Thursday, December 1, 2011

A 3-Hour Tour

2 weeks later the hockey season had ended, Grey had played a whopper of an April Fool’s joke on me (stinky goalie gear in my car overnight) and Jameson hadn’t mentioned medical school in the Caribbean.  My internal countdown had started:  4 months. What was Ja thinking? Why hasn’t he mentioned anything? He knows me well enough  to realize that my systematic and panic genes have a close working relationship.
Mental Checklist: remind husband that not everyone operates under the “fly by the seat of your pants” rule. Oh, and figure out who came up with that saying anyway – when I think of pants I don’t think of procrastination or spontaneity.
Grey was just taking the last of the dishes to the sink from the dinner table when I began my Caribbean fact-finding mission.
“Ja, how was dinner? Too much garlic on the chicken or no?” Too obvious? I think not.
“Ohhhhhhh, Dad, you’re in trouble. Mom’s doing that thing with her face.” Grey’s advance warning to Ja made him realize that I didn’t really care about the chicken. Ja could have choked on the chicken and I wouldn’t have noticed. I needed answers.
Jameson directed our son to head upstairs and finish his homework for Monday. Grey put up a fight because sitting in the kitchen and listening in on what could only be good gossip sounded better.  My husband won in the end. The promise of extra ice time is all the leverage he needed.
“Wife,” he started, “I know you’re stressed out. I can tell by the way you’re acting. You cleaned the bathroom 3 times today. Was there really so much toothpaste on the sink that you needed to scrub it 3 times? My sense of smell is completely gone for the next 24 hours thanks to your use of bleach.”
Why can’t men appreciate a clean bathroom?
“Husband,” look at me using his talking technique. “I’m just curious what is going on. You brought this up at the last practice and then nada. I’ve heard nothing. So… I made a list of some questions.”
“Of course you did,” my husband smiles at me, leans back in the chair and puts his hands behind his head. This is his typical listen-to-my-wife’s worries pose. I took that as an invitation.
I take the list of 10-bulleted items out of my pocket and begin with, “I’d like to submit into evidence the story of our AUC Campus Tour.”
“Submit into evidence? What? Are you an attorney now?” Jameson is mocking me.
“I watched reruns of ‘The People’s Court’ today while I was doing Minutes from my meeting. Don’t judge. May I continue?”
My husband nods and I begin again, “Remember when we vaca’d in St. Maarten this past January and we went on that campus tour. Wait – rewind. I’m out of order on my list. Before we even got there for the tour you contacted the school to schedule it. Remember?”
Jameson nods.
“Well, do you also remember that after submitting your tour request online using the school’s website that you followed up with the coordinator 3 times over e-mail because they had us scheduled for the wrong date? Do you really want to go to a school where the office staff mix-up the months of January and February?”
My husband argues, “Kel that could have happened to anyone.”
“You’re telling me that ANY person that we encounter could easily mix up the first 2 months of the year three times in a row. Can we test that and call Grey down here? He’s 12; let’s see if he makes the same mistake.” 
I was only on my second bulleted item on the list and I could tell Ja was getting uncomfortable. He crossed his arms, a classic keep-talking-but-I’m-only-half-listening pose.
“You finally get the tour dates figured out, we arrive and are greeted by the girlfriend of a 5th semester and she feels ‘weird’ because she thought it was only one person on the tour not two. Then, she spends the next 15 minutes walking around the rotunda and talking about her boyfriend. Would they get engaged? Where will she live during his residency?  Oh! I also remember her telling us that the weather was really bad for her nails. It dries them out. I actually think that’s probably true. I bet the weather there is really hard on your hair, too.” 
I digress and Ja gives me a weird look. Did I really just talk about hair? 
“As I was saying, in the middle of all of this really important information about AUC life, we look in the window of one lecture hall and she shows us the cafeteria. Is this the school you’re talking about attending?  The school with the All-U-Can-Eat for 5 bucks lunches?” I’m asking sincerely and Ja bursts out laughing.
“Wife, I love you and all of the lists that you make. We don’t need to go through all of your questions. I can answer now – yes. This is the school I want to go to.” He stands, walks around the table, hugs me and then leaves the room. I can hear him call up to Grey, something about socks on the stairs.
Mental Checklist: we’re leaving the rain soaked city of Seattle to head to the land of sunshine and heat. I need to find a good hair conditioner.

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