Grapes, Unexpected Encounters, and a Trip to Beantown

Communication Breakdown
You would think that after nearly 23 years of nearly constant marital bliss, my lovely bride and I would have the whole communication thing down pat. The sad and ugly truth is, however, that we don’t. There are a couple of theories floating around out there as to the reason for this. According to me, she often doesn’t tell me what’s going on, then springs things on me at the last second, which catches me by surprise and throws me for a loop. According to her, she often tells me about things, then I forget that she told me, and then I get testy when they actually occur. Anyway, this all came to a head recently when I noticed some grapes in the freezer. You might be wondering, why were there grapes in the freezer? Well, I was wondering the exact same thing, which was, “I wonder why there are grapes in the freezer.” I assumed, for whatever reason, that the grapes were Katie’s, and that they were somehow connected to her job (not sure why, but it seemed like it made sense at the time). She, on the other hand, had also noticed the grapes in the freezer, and she (along with wondering why there were grapes in the freezer like everyone else) assumed that they belonged to me, and that I had some very logical and well thought out reason for storing a bunch of grapes in the freezer. Time passed, and the grapes in the freezer remained frozen, and we both continued to wonder why there were grapes in the freezer, until finally one day as I was putting the groceries away, I asked Katie, “Why do you have grapes in the freezer?” to which she replied, “I thought they were your grapes,” to which I replied, “I thought they were your grapes – aren’t you using them for some kind of school project?” to which she replied, “Why would I used frozen grapes for a school project?” to which I replied, “I don’t know, maybe it’s some kind of an art project - or maybe you’re studying grapes or making wine - or something,” to which she replied, “Are you serious? An art project with frozen grapes? Wine-making with little kids?” to which I had no reply, other than to shrug sheepishly. Eventually, we worked through all this confusion and came to the conclusion (thanks to input from our lovely daughter, Carrie) that the grapes, in fact, belonged to our eldest daughter, who had visited for a couple of days over Spring Break and had invited friends over to watch movies and make smoothies, hence the leftover grapes in the freezer. Mystery solved.

Strangers in Paradise
Since Katie and I will be traveling out of town this weekend (more on this below) the kids will be spending some “quality time” with the g-parents. So Katie was informing Connor of this the other day and said, “I’ll take you to meet Grandma on Friday afternoon,” to which Connor replied, “But I already know Grandma.” Gotta love that kid.

Beantown
The big day is just around the corner, and all our ducks are (hopefully) in a row. Airline reservations are set, hotel rooms await, entry fees are paid, and bodily systems have been trained, peaked, and tapered so that they will (hopefully) perform admirably under the stress of running 26.2 miles as fast as possible. Katie and I will rise early (in the 4’s) on Saturday, board a plane, make a transfer, cross a couple of time zones, and wind up in Boston around 5:00 pm (eastern time) or so. Then on Monday, I’ll get up very early again, take a bus to get on another bus, which will take me to the starting line, where I’ll sit around and wait for a couple of hours, then line up behind 12,000 people who are faster than me (but in front of about 14,000 others) and wait for the gun to go off, then will inch forward inch by inch until I finally cross the actual start line and the race begins. The race starts at 10 am eastern time, which is 7 am here in Tucson, and it will probably take 20-30 minutes before I actually cross the start line. If you’re interested, bored, or have nothing better to do Monday morning, you can follow my progress throughout that morning (let’s hope it doesn’t stretch into the afternoon) by logging onto the Boston Marathon website (http://www.bostonmarathon.org/) and entering either my name, or my bib number (12597). The site will update automatically when I cross certain checkpoints along the course, so you can see how I’m doing.

I’ve got sub plans to write, so that’s all for this entry. Until next time, may your beans grow in straight and orderly rows, may your freezers remain grape-free (unless you’re planning on making smoothies), and may your jell-o break the mold.