A weekend of “Surprises”

Posted on May 26, 2009
Filed Under Daily, Life With The Boss, Newlywed | 4 Comments

The Boss came home Friday night for a weekend visit and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t too happy when I called him on Thursday and was like, “Hey can you take a taxi home?” He was like, “What?” and I was like, “Can you take a taxi when you get here?” And he goes, “What?” and I’m all, “WTH man? Do you need me to say it in Spanish? Can-prode You-nay E-Take-E-Taxi To Casa Blanca?” And he was all, “That is not Spanish,” and I’m like, “Well, I never said I spoke Spanish.”

And then he was quiet for a moment.
“Okay,” he said. “If my WIFE is too busy to come get me from the airport, then fine, I’ll take a taxi.”

And I was all, SCORE! Now, my plan can move into serious action.

What the crazy little guy didn’t know is that I was preparing a feast for him at home and everything needed to be perfect for when he got there. I wanted all the food on the table to be piping hot, which wouldn’t have been possible if I had to turn off the oven and the stove to go get him from the airport because that would have totally ruined the surprise and I hate when my surprises are ruined.

If you’ve been following me for a while (or at least since March anyway) then you know that The Boss (who is the man I married — wow, you must be really new — but that’s okay, welcome!) moved to L.A. and left me behind.
Okay, well it’s not as dramatic as I’m making it sound.

He got a really great offer through his job, and after talking it over with each other for more than a week, and asking our parents for their advice, we decided to take the offer. Only the “we” turned into just him. We decided that I would hang back, pack up the house, and then join him six weeks later. But then “six weeks” turned into 2 months and 7 days (as of today) and by the time I get to The Left Coast it would have been nearly three months that we’ve been apart.

When The Boss got this job offer, it was such a sudden move, that his company agreed to pay for the first month’s rent, barring that everyone pretty much lived together. The two married couples got their own place with one extra person (read: a third wheel) and the single girls and guys each got their own place  — boys in one house, girls in the other. Since I didn’t go with him, The Boss fell into ‘the singles’ category and has been sharing a one-bedroom place with a sun room with two other guys. My guy has been sleeping on an air mattress in the living room for two months and stacked his moving boxes around his “bed” like a fortress for privacy.
And they only have one bathroom — which if you know how messy most guys are — ukh.
I can’t even imagine what it looks and smells like.

On Thursday, I was out all day grocery shopping and picking up all the ingredients for the things I knew The Boss would want to eat. It had been so long since he’d had a proper meal, and even though he loves L.A., I know how much he misses home. I wanted him to feel like he was the guest of honor at a big welcome home party when he arrived…only I’d be the only guest…which is totally cool, because I’m like, the life of the party anyway.

I did all the prep work the night before he came and I even had my mom supervise me while I tested a new recipe for and Indian dish that I normally cook — you know, in case anything went wrong, she could step in.
She once told me to use a pinch of a spice in a dish I was making (kind of like a secret recipe thing) and later when I saw her, I was all, “Hey, Mom! I used that secret pinch of coriander you told me about!” And she was like, “Huh?” and I was all, “Remember….you told me about the coriander?!” *WINK-WINK* And she was all, “Sabrina, you were supposed to use cumin.”

On Friday, I kept texting The Boss to make sure he was taking a taxi and he texted me back with, “I know!”
AHAHHAHA. Can you believe that, Readers? Texting me with an exclamation mark? Oh, the nerve.

Friday night when I saw the taxi pull up, I peeked out the window and watched him get out of the cab. When the doorbell rang, I checked my hair in the mirror one more time and made sure my mascara wasn’t clumpy and my lip gloss perfectly applied.  And then I sat on the steps for like 20 seconds — maybe 30.
I didn’t want to open the door.
Is that weird?

It was kind of weird to see him after such a long time. He looked so frail — I guess two months of Pop Tarts and Taco Bell as your breakfast and dinner (no time for lunch) will do that to you.
Also, he cut his hair! Ever since I’ve known The Boss, he’s had a fade. But a few years ago he grew his hair long and I loved it. I love long hair and I think everyone looks better with facial hair.
(Okay, well not everyone. When I used to work at Lens Crafters in high school this woman with a mustache came in. And I asked her if she needed help. And she did. So I helped her. Then she used a check to pay for her glasses, so I asked to see her driver’s license. And that’s when I found out, she was a man.)

Point is, I love that sort of unkempt look on guys. Like, I’d probably pass out if The Boss got dreads, but when he first got to L.A. he said he was thinking about going to the barber. Since it’s his hair, I told him to do whatever he wanted even though I was really hoping that he would keep it long — at least until I got to Cali.

The night before he came home, it occurred to me that I should ask him if he cut his hair. I was like, “If you cut your hair, would you tell me?” And he was like, “Why?” And I was like, “Because I hate surprises.” And he was like, “Okay, I cut my hair.” And I was like “WTH man?!?!” And he was like, “Well I didn’t say anything because I wanted to surprise you,” and I was like, “How is that a surprise?” And he was all, “Because it’s different,” and I was like, “Different is not a surprise. A surprise is something that benefits me. A surprise would have been if you were like, ‘Hey guess what? I got you The Body Bug. Surprise!”

Needless to say, his new look took a little getting used to. I kind of felt like we were back in 2005 when he asked me to marry him.
Actually, that’s not how it happened.
We were eating lunch at a deli, and I was in mid-bite when he goes, “We should get married.”
I put my pizza down, thought about it for a minute, and then said, “Yeah. Okay. You’re right.”
And that was that.
No down on one knee, no ring, no flowers, no show.
And it was perfect.

The weekend flew by, but we had a great time together. We hung out with my family, went to my friend’s wedding and even watched the Lakers play on Saturday — the first game we’ve watched together since the Playoffs started.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, when The Boss came home and saw all the effort I put into his homecoming, I didn’t even have to say anything. He looked at the table and then looked at me and goes, “I get it. I knew you were up to something.”

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