Why My Husband Is A Rockstar, by Mandy, Age 32

I went swimming with a girlfriend Friday morning, and it felt great to be back in the water – really great. I did pretty well, too – I was constrained more by available time than by lung capacity (hurrah!) and did ¾ mile, with every 5^th lap being a sprint lap.

Keep in mind that the term “sprint” is completely relative – with the Olympics on, I wouldn’t want to invite comparisons. I mentioned that I needed a new suit and goggles because my suits are pretty worn and my goggles fog up before I’ve even completed one length of the pool these days. Special K said, jokingly, “hey, why don’t we get you one of those new high-tech, super fast Speedo suits that all the Olympic swimmers are wearing?” I said “well, as much as those suits are great for helping those elite-level athletes glide through the water, my cellulite jodhpurs would re-introduce enough drag as to make the whole thing something of a waste of money. I appreciate the thought, though.”

But back to my main point. This morning, Special K indulged me and got up at 5:30 when I did, and hit the pool with me. Now, keep in mind that he hasn’t been in the water in many, many months – he’s more of an elliptical trainer kind of guy when it comes down to it. My husband busted his tail and swam for the entire 30+ minutes in which I was doing laps. Go Special K!

This past weekend was a bit if a whirlwind. I’m in the unhappy role of watching a friend make some very, very bad choices and feeling somewhat powerless to help her. The only thing I can do is offer support as she begins to weather the storm she’s running into at full speed. So that’s been on my mind a lot and making it really hard to concentrate on the things I need to concentrate on. We spent lots of time hanging out with the C’s again, which is always fun. We had some friends over for a barbeque on Sunday, which was great. (Special K cleaned the house while I was working at church Sunday morning, which was even better!)

We dropped Whitey off at the mechanic this morning, so I guess we’ve committed to that course of action. I do feel better than I did previously, but it would be, perhaps an exaggeration to say that I feel “good”. I’m not there yet. But he will be fixed (goodbye, emergency fund…) and that will be one less thing to worry about for now. I wish my knee-jerk way to finish that sentence didn’t involve me saying “until something else breaks”. Even though it’s totally not his fault, I have a feeling that Special K feels bad about it. That, or he’s sick of hearing me bitch about it – the facial expressions are similar. But we may hold off on the repairs on my car for a little while, since we *can* get by on one car, as long as it’s one car that we can both drive. It’s not ideal, but it’s not awful, either – it’s just life.

I’m off to Guam in a few days. I’ve noted that it’s part of my “Obscure Destinations” tour, when coupled with my time in Yemen. Although, if I had to pick one in which to spend four days and one in which to spend 2 ½ months, I sure as hell would have reversed them. Ah well. Wasn’t really an option at the time. That would have been a short conversation “would you prefer to spend ten weeks on a tropical island where all your electrical appliances work, they have running water and electricity all the time, and you can drink the water, OR would you like to spend those same 10 weeks being spied on and stared at, crapping out half of your body weight in the space of three days, and working like a dog because that’s the only thing you’re really permitted to do without getting a man’s permission?”

Hmm..that would have been a toughie.