Earl and I were meeting his daughter and son-in-law for dinner last night. Just as we were leaving our home, the phone rang and someone wanted to meet Earl regarding a real estate deal. I heard him say, “We’re going out to dinner, but I’ll stop by and drop off a business card.”
We stopped by, and Earl asked me to go in with him. Maybe it was to confirm that we couldn’t stay. Or maybe it was for some other reason. No matter, I went along . . . which is completely out of character. I usually opt for staying in the car.
So we walked into the clubhouse, and I saw a sign that read “Happy Birthday Anne.” Hmmmmm . . . I thought . . . we’re crashing someone’s birthday celebration just to pass off a business card?
Then I saw my older son Kevin, and I realized the Anne in question was me. That’s when I lost it, walked over to Kevin with tears and a hug, noticed Don and Sue, then Hugh and Judi, then members of my book club, then Earl’s son Rich, and then, and then.
Earl is the big picture person in our marriage. Me? I’m the detailist. He says, “Let’s go to Europe.” I make the arrangements. He says, “I want to see a ballgame in Milwaukee.” I buy the tickets. Yet, he pulled this off without my ever having an inkling that plans were in the works since last year.
So kudos to Earl for hiring a sign maker, a lifeguard, a keyboardist, a caterer, and inviting everyone I would have invited had I been asked. He just needs to know he’s blown his cover; and, in the future, I’ll assume he can do details too.
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