You Say Potato, I Say "Oh that reminds me..."

Day 3: "What funny thing happened yesterday?"


Okay. It has been a couple of low-key days around here. Laughs have been limited. However, something was kind of funny on Thursday...

Big Daddy and I are driving in the car. I mentioned to him that I thought the baked potatoes we had for supper the night before were especially delicious.

Yes. We are deep like that. Who needs politics, current events, and the economic status of the country when there are more pressing matters to discuss?

Other topics may include:

• Who's cocaine was in Paris Hilton's pants?
• Will Bachelorette Ali and her man stay together?
• How does Kate Gosselin claim to raise her children herself, alone, while she is on a press tour and mentions they are in school?
• Is Snookie really a Lindsey Lohan Wanna-be?
• What's for dinner tonight?

Look for my ebook, Married Couples: How to Keep The Flame Alive When The Kids Are Gone, to come out this winter on Amazon.

He agreed that they were good. I said that I had got them at Publix. One thing I don't like about Publix is that they only carry baking potatoes. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about ten pounds of baking pototoes. Especially when there's other methods of preparation other than baking.

I know right about now you are wishing you were a fly in the car listening to this riveting conversation.

Anyway, I don't remember how the conversation went to a trip to the store a few weeks prior and we were looking at potatoes. He takes this moment to inform me that Idaho potatoes are russet potatoes.

I'm all, "What? How are they the same?"

He says, "Russet potatoes grown in Idaho are the only ones that can be referred to as Idaho potatoes. The rest are simply russet."

I reply with, "Then why is it that when I said in the produce department, 'I don't want russet potatoes. I don't like them. I only want Idaho,' you didn't say anything."

"Um. I didn't hear you?"

"Well, good lord. No wonder that woman looked at me like I was crazy. Thanks a lot."

"You'd think someone that worked in the produce department would know the difference."

From there we went on a wild goose chase of conversation, as most of our deep meaningful conversation tends to do.


You know. Now that I think about it. It's not that funny.


But what is funny, is my $60 CSN gift card giveaway. Someone has to win. It might as well be you. Go! Enter!

Two things on the agenda this evening:

I've got myself a little bloggy gig. Thanks to Bridgett, I am a contributor of Making a Mommy. There is some serious talent in there. I am lucky Kadi invited me. :)Tonight, I read that "Supernanny", Jo Frost has been by the blog! That is like what? Two degrees of separation to an actual celebrity.

I didn't have anything of substance to write about tonight, but after reading Rachel's entry, it made me think of something funny. Since my husband have been married for 10 years and one month today, the timing is perfect.

You remember those early days of a relationship? When you do everything you can to impress him. And avoid doing things that are human-like? Like pee, pass gas, burp, ect?

That's where we were. We'd been talking for a couple of months. Our first "offical" date had been like a week or two prior. Somehow we came up with the idea that I would cook dinner, and he'd come to my place.

I am not sure what possessed me to do that. Probably show him that I was capable of cooking. And why I picked beans, fried potatoes, and cornbread is BEYOND me. Probably the fact that this was my pre-ability to cook. Also, I was a vegetarian. Who knows?

He asked me the day of what I was making. When I told him he said, "You did remember the turnip greens, right?"

(I thought I was going to die.)

(I had never made turnip greens.)

(The very smell of that whole family of greens makes me gag.)

So, wanting to impress him, I go to the store, take the chicken way out and bought a couple of boxes of frozen.

I cooked them.

I served them.

He laughed. Like rolling on the floor-peeing-his-pants-laughing.

About an hour later he said, "I was only kidding. I hate greens."

I think that is when I knew I was going to marry him. It was that sense of humor. And that I would NEVER have to cook greens again.

That was the last time that I didn't get "it." But every once in a while, I let him think he got me.

Good times.

In the beginning...

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 begins here.

I didn't let him know that night that I was the one on the other end of the phone. I was so scared that either: a) he would be mortified, or b) he'd reject me. Neither option was one that I was ready for.

A couple of days later, I was coming back from dropping my girl off at my parent's house. As I was passing this laundry mat, I noticed his truck out front. Something inside me snapped. The next thing I knew, I was at the house (which was right around the corner) touching up make-up, fluffing hair, and changing shirts. I raced back just sure that he was gone. I decided to do a drive- by and see what his status was. I had to go up to the light to get into the shopping center. The way everything was laid out, I had to drive up to the strip mall. In front of the Piggly-Wiggly, which is the corner shop, there is a stop sign. I stop (of course) and am looking to the left because that is where I was heading. As I look to the right to make sure traffic is clear, he comes out of the store holding up the paper--reading and walking.

I nearly hyperventilated.

Not thinking clearly (due to lack of oxygen, no doubt) I turned right. Quickly. There is nothing out that way so I am not sure what I thought I would accomplished. The road ended after a couple of miles, so I turned around trying to decide what to do next. My confidence was waining, and I wasn't sure if I could follow through with my plan, which ironically, I didn't actually have to begin with.

What I am sure now was the hands of fate, my car turned and I parked on the other side of the laundry mat. He was sitting in his truck reading the paper. I could see him through the windows that ran along the front and side of the building.

Now in hindsight, having a basket of laundry would have been a more subtle approach in this situation, but I think we have established I was more about spontaneity at that time.

I walked around to the other side of the building--he had noticed me by then--and casually stroll up to his truck, you know, all nonchalant.

So, we go through all the usual pleasantries. Somehow it comes out about the phone call. I admit that it was me. He says, "I was hoping it was you."

:::chorus of angels:::

I am beside myself with joy on the inside, but cool and crisp on the outside. I just happened to know that he had the weekend off and was using telepathy to get him to ask me out. Then my mouth overloaded my brain. "What are you doin' this weekend?"

"Oh. I am leaving in a few hours. I am going to Ohio. I'll be back Sunday night."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo.

I leave after a bit, and head back home, with defeat in my heart but uplifted because it was true. He really did like me.

This was late July. For the next few weeks, things were clean and innocent. All contact was made by phone. No one knew anything. Then, the wind shifted. I was manipulated to a point that almost cost us everything.

To be continued..

In the beginning...

I was doing a blog jog yesterday. I am not sure what I was looking for, but I was given some inspiration. I wish I could remember where I was when I was hit with the bug, you know, to give the proper linkage and all.

One thing I always love to hear about, whether it is IRL (in real life) or online, is the "how we met" story. My husband and I have been married for nine years, and I love our story. That probably is a redundant statement; who doesn't love their story?

Anyway, for your reading pleasure, may I present to you, "How We Met."

My husband and I met at our place of work. He was the manager, while I was a lowly employee.

Gripping, isn't it?

In June of '97, I took a job at a local grocery store working part-time as a cashier. In July, I left my job at Cracker Barrel (Oh, how I miss that money I made). Still needing the income being a single mom, I drove straight to my new job and asked the store manager if he could use me full-time. Luckily for me, a woman that worked in the produce section needed to go on a medical leave, and if I was willing, I could work there. Little did I know it, at that moment, my life had changed forever.

About the same time this all had come about, I had been through some tough times. I had been divorced for about a year. While the divorce itself wasn't nasty, just the letdown that comes with something like that took a toll on me emotionally. While that was not my lowest point, I certainly didn't feel worthy to be in the company of any man. I saw girl after girl get asked out, and I was left to be home with a four-year old and Barney. It was clear that I was meant to be alone. I swore off looking for a boyfriend, let alone a husband.

About a week into my lettuce and apple gig, the assistant manager would come into our area quite a bit. He had all these little jobs I needed to do and none of them seemed to benefit the fruits or vegetables. For example, a couple of times a day, I was supposed to check milk. Which was on the other side of the store. The milk was in the cooler far away from the actual display. Inside that cooler, the crates were stacked in a single line, upwards, over my head. I would have to go in search of this manager to have him down stack the milk so I could reach it.

Somewhere around the third week, a colleague mentions that Assistant Manager never comes into our area when I am not there, nor do they get requests to re-stock milk. I am all, "whatever," but he was insistent that Assistant Manager was "totally diggin'" me.


The dance begins.

It is well known that most companies frown upon "fraternization between employees." especially when one of those is a member of management. I never really thought there would be ramifications should I choose to date a manager. My philosophy has always been whatever happens off the clock, happens.

A couple weeks of the extremely subtle flirting(from both parties) went nowhere. I was certain by this time he did have a crush. One of my friends worked in the office, and she had been working there as long as he had--since the store opened. She knew that he liked me and ended up being a key player.

I was getting anxious. Now you know that I had read "The Rules"--it had recently been published. I was very much into doing exactly as the ladies had lined out so carefully for us single gals. (Isn't one of them divorced now?)

But patience isn't a virtue I always possess, and frankly I am more Rizzo than Sandra Dee. And what would Rizzo do if she was jonesin' for her man? Yep. I called him.

And he wasn't home.

But, he was familiar with *69. About twenty minutes later, my phone rang, with his number on my caller ID.

I denied having called him. (Yeah, I know.)

We talked about forty-five minutes, yet at the end, he had no clue who was speaking on the other end.

To be continued...