33

Easter weekend last year, after filling up the Jeep with gas, Jon returned to the driver’s seat all freaked out because it had cost exactly thirty-three dollars and thirty-three cents to fill the tank, and “that’s how old Jesus was when he died”. Easter weekend, $33.33. Crept him right out. I laughed for an hour, then forgot all about it until yesterday morning when he woke up and exclaimed, “I’m as old as Jesus!”. I considered gifting him a white robe and some sandals in honor of this birthday milestone, but ultimately decided against it (though Jon tells a hilarious story of a new convert attending a Halloween institute dance dressed up as Jesus. I wish I'd been there!). Instead, I got him the usual – a DVD, a sixer of his favorite non-alcoholic beer-flavored beverage, blah blah blah. Borrrring. Worst wife ever.

When I asked him what he was going to spend his birthday money on, he told me he was buying us both Keen sandals in preparation for moving to the Caribbean. TOO BAD, though, because we already bought them last week, NOT for his birthday, and there is NO WAY I'm allowing him to pass that off as his gift to himself. He’s always trying to do that – spend his birthday money on gas, groceries, etc. My mom has taken to getting him ONLY gift cards so he doesn’t have that option, but whenever she enlists me to figure out where he wants his card from, he always drags his feet for so long that I want to call her back and say, “ANTHROPOLOGIE. He wants a gift card to ANTHROPOLOGIE.”

Yes. We bought Keens, so I guess it’s official now. We ARE moving to an island. Jon’s been trying to get me to buy some for years now, but I never had any use for them. Let’s be honest, it’s not like I’m apt to up and hike the Narrows at any given moment, and before now that was really the only reason I could foresee having a use for high-tech hybrid waterproof shoes.






We got them in Phoenix last weekend. Then Penny contracted some form of stomach virus or something on Easter Sunday at my aunt and uncle's house, and it was not pleasant. Jon had to correct me twice when I misidentified the substance she was sharing her crate with. And that's all I want to say about it, because a delicious-looking lemon cake just came out of the oven, and I plan on eating at least two large slices of it immediately. Yes, it's a belated birthday cake, and I don't want to hear about it.


Happy Weekend!