We’re still in Kansas. Breakfast with the in laws (it still sounds so weird to me to say in laws) then they nap and early dinner with the in laws. Nothing dramatic, exciting or even mildly interesting to write about…Sorry.

Here’s a story from last week while we were still in Vegas.

We were starving. Usually our eating out food agenda is a trip to the raw food cafe for some bizarre concoction for me, and then through the Taco Bell drive through for Andy. Then we eat together in the front of the Eurovan, listening to the XM and watching cars stopped at the traffic light.

The problem at the moment was that we were going through the drive through with a hundred dollar bill. Taco Bell does not accept hundreds. The drive through lady said she would hold the food while we went somewhere other than Taco Bell to get change. Andy starts to drive and talk to himself, noting that there are no gas stations close by. I put on my crisis hat and decide to take charge of the situation. I tell him to drive into the Wall Mart, I’ll jump out, buy something and meet him out front. He agrees and I jump out.

I run in and grab three tomatoes and a bag of mixed greens, or as people who do not eat as lofty of salads as I….lettuce. I turn from the produce section and march with speed and purpose to the self checkout lane at the other end of the store.

I don’t know if it’s a well known fact about me or not, when I go into “crisis mode” I become focused to the point of only being aware of the situation at hand and the solution I need to arrive at. This mode has caused me to jump in between Murphy and an attacking neighbor dog and also without thinking, plunge my hand into a toilet I had just peed in to retrieve my glasses that had fallen in….that last part was too much information I think.

As I’m walking I feel someone brush up against me and, I think, cop a feel. I decide it may possibly be an honest mistake. I say “excuse me” and step up my pace. Again a few seconds later I feel a person behind me, and someone most definitely grabs my ass. I spin around, ready to punch this person in the face. I’m already over hungr, jangled and getting more upset by the second and this person is going to receive every ounce of my rage.

I turned and inhaled ready to let fly some choice swear words and came face to face with my grinning, proud of himself husband. The hunger, the focus, the pressure the rage at the anonymous ass grabber flowed out of me as I yelled, really loudly, “You JERK!” and threw the bag of mixed greens as hard as I could at my fun loving, well meaning husband.

Here’s another thing that you may or may not know about me. I can call you an asshole, motherfucker, cocksucker, shithead, looser and we can laugh about it. If I call you a JERK, I’m really mad.

The fury lasted for three seconds and then dissipated. He felt horrible, then I felt horrible for making him feel horrible. He said, “I’m correct in thinking that if circumstances would have been different, that would have been funny, right?” I agreed. And really it was funny by the time we walked to the self check out lane.

I’ve told that story a few times, and I always have to specify a bag of lettuce because automatically they think I chucked a head of lettuce at Andy’s face or something. It is for a funnier visual, but it makes it not so funny since with a head of lettuce you could break your husband’s spine as pointed out by my husband. “It only takes four pounds of pressure”.

P.S. I was going through the emails that Andy and I sent each other while we were dating, and I would like permission from Mr. X to post the best love letter in the history of the entire universe written by Mr. X to Mrs. X, formerly known as girlfriend of X.