Rabulous

Even though we’ve completely overhauled our eating habits over the past few months by regularly making dinner at home (instead of calling for takeout 3x a week), Jeff and I still observe our weekly rituals.
We used to do a burger night every wednesday at our local bar, where a giant burger and a pint of beer was only $5.  But, after the results from a recent physical, we chose to amend those rituals.  Now, we go to Tuesday wing night.
ha. we’re pretty pathetic, I know. 

Every Tuesday like clockwork, Jeff and I meet up after work as sort of a mid-week break.  We catch up, complain and connect over a plate of buffalo wings and a few pitchers of beer.  The deal, actually, works out for both of us:  I don’t have to slave in the kitchen after a shitty commute.  And he doesn’t have to manually wash the dishes after an exhaustive drive home.

Since getting married, we’ve started a few little menial rituals, but of them all, our weekly date nights at the bar are my favorite.  It’s never ideal to have too many pitchers on wing night, only to suffer with a throbbing hangover on Wednesday.  But for the few hours that we’re there, I love unwinding and sometimes even, beating our retired baker friend at a game of pool.
 
And because it’s tuesday again, I’m reminded of a silly conversation I had with my husband on our walk home from Wing Night.
We stopped in at the Bodgea to pick up an innocent six pack (I guess to solidify our weekday drunkeness.) Since we’ve only been seeing one of the two brothers who owns our local bodega, my husband was concerned of his whereabouts.  Jeff likes to trashtalk sports with them whenever we stop in the store.  Fueled by the pitchers of beer, Jeff’s lack of inhibition prompted him to query the cashier guy about the missing bodega brother.

Jeff slurs to the cashier, “So, ush, did Jaime buy out his brother?  I haven’t seen him around.”
cashier guy, typing into his Sidekick, without looking up: “ah, no. Jose works in the morning. I guess they have a set schedule.”
Jeff: “oh, well, I thought he was gone?  Oh well, I’ll catch him some other time.”

As we left, Jeff looked at me very Quixotically: “I guess Jaime didn’t buy his brother out, huh?”
I shrugged my shoulders and raised my brows in my bitchy, wifely know it all way, “Uh yeah. where have you been?  Jose’s always there in the mornings. duh.”

Yelling loud enough for all of Bayonne to hear, “Well THANKS.  NEXT TIME, WHY DON’T YOU JUST LET ME WALK IN THERE WITH DOO-DOO SMEARED ALL OVER MY FACE.”

Yep.  My husband said doo-doo. smeared all over his face. 
It’s a week later, and I’m still laughing.  With every laugh over every ridiculous thing he might say or do, I’m entirely grateful for how marriage complements us.

The old adage explains it:  Water seeks its own level.  (*or in this case, doo-doo)

So, there you have it.  Not only do we like to go out on weekdays, just so we don’t have to do dishes; but quality time with my husband often involves too much beer. 

I know there’s a contingent that frowns upon married people going out and having fun often, especially the kind of fun involving neighborhood bars and happy hour. (mom comes to mind)  I actually heard someone say that bars are an inappropriate form of fun for married couples, implying that it’s an immature social outlet.
Nonsense! I’m a big believer in marriage and the immersion of fun.  Whether it involves scrabble, Soduku on the couch, croquet in the backyard or Wing Night at your local pub, you have to have fun!

Studies say that married people live longer and healthier. 

Being married, staying married, being part of a married couple changes people’s choices. 

Maybe some of our rockstar Jameson chugging nights aren’t the healthiest of choices, but really, a fun night out with friends/family goes a long way for us.  Fun=healthy marriage for us.

While some of my friends are enjoying parenthood, home ownership or whatever path they’ve chosen, I’m openly chuckling over healthy conversations involving doo-doo. 

Happy Tuesday!