Lessons on marriage learned on a trade show floor - Cracking Up - The Orange County Register

as published at www.ocregister.com on November 8th, 2012:

"You have to talk nice to me if you want me to sell your software," I tell my husband as we check our bags at the LAX Skycap.

"What do you mean? I always talk nice to you," Michael says.

PHOTO COURTESY MORGUEFILE.COM

"Not when it comes to techie stuff. When I tell you the remote’s not working, you look at me like I just asked you what country we live in or something and ask, 'What’d you do?'"

He assures me he’ll treat me like the boss, though I’d settle for executive assistant. Which for a week, I am. It’s just one of the many roles I occasionally show up to fill as the wife of an entrepreneur.

We’re on our way to a national healthcare convention in Orlando, Florida, where we’ll be selling Michael’s home care software at a tradeshow. I tell some of my friends this beforehand, and they ask if I’ll be wearing a tight black dress and throwing out candy to garner the attention of passers-by. “That’s not why he’s bringing me!” I retort. Or is it?

I’m always up for an adventure, especially of the travel variety. I’ve even gotten excited about road trips to Reno. But there are so many things seemingly wrong with my inclusion on this trip, I’m still second guessing whether I should yell out “I have a knife!” as we pass through security so they’ll send me back home.  READ THE REST:

Lessons on marriage learned on a trade show floor | marriage, trade, cracking - Cracking Up - The Orange County Register

I Married Me a Toyota

Let's just hope he doesn't have an accelerator problem...
So today I was driving down the street to preschool when I stopped to say hi to Kelly next door. But when I rolled down my window, it came off its track and fell down into the door! How random is that?

As I tried to pull it back up into its upright and locked position (to no avail), I had to laugh. I had a full day of driving ahead of me with no stop at San O Mechanic on the docket, and would thus be cruising around town with my snaggle-toothed window sneering at all the passing cars. And of course, being the amnesiac I am, I continuously attempted to roll down the window at every gated neighborhood keypad and drive-thru I entered, only to hear a cringe-inducing duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn from my discombobulated window.

This car has been good to me. It's nine years old with mileage well into the six figures club, and road trips yet to burn. So I could never let a little thing like a grumpy window induce thoughts of a trade-in. I worked hard for this car (with some begging and pleading and dare I say-tears?when Michael "walked off the lot"), and I've spent many happy years indenting my grooves into its leather with my rear end and Raisinets. So I'm in this relationship 'til death do us part.

When Michael came home, he completely overturned my plan to visit the mechanic tomorrow. "Come on, Gavin, we've got a man's work to do," he hollered as he headed out to the garage to find the tools. Typical of my Mr. Fix-it, a google search and an hour later, they wiped their hands clean as the mission was complete.

Spouses are kind of like cars. As time goes by, some people trade them in for a newer model. But when you have a good one, I think it's way better to make a few repairs with the one you've got than start all over again. I'm glad I married me a Toyota. Who happens to love old classic cars. Let's just hope I get better with age. :)