I Think I'll Stick To It This Time

New Year's Eve was the last time I blogged. Have mercy! I used to love blogging. In fact, after I left the daycare, I would go to the library every day just to blog. So... I'm picking it back up. I may or may not keep the same "fan base" but really I don't care. I just love to do it.

I was engaged the last time I blogged, and I am now happily married. I lost my job right after the wedding, and am now a stay-at-home-wife/step-mom. Hubby has a wonderful new job. He's doing the same thing that he's been doing for the last 15 years, but he's making more money, and dazzling his new boss. I'm just so proud of him... there aren't even words to describe it!

Of course the never-ending drama of the World of Stacy continues. Poor Hubby just got thrown right in. I tried to warn him, but I don't think he was fully prepared for all the comes with me. Hahahaha. He takes it in good stride though. I think each little time makes him love me more. Which is good, because I can't escape it.

Our first drama to encounter as a married couple occurred when we were on our way home from our honeymoon. We had just spent a week in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, a place I would suggest to anyone looking for a great vacation spot. So we're on our way home. It's a long drive by itself, and we had taken two detours. One to see the University of South Carolina's football stadium, and another to see the one at the University of Georgia.

As we were getting close to Atlanta, we were getting hungry. Hubby had mentioned Mexican, because believe it or not, we hadn't had any the whole week. Mexican restaurants are not listed on the food signs at the exits on the interstate. I suggested that we just take a crowded exit and we'd probably find one. Well... it started raining. And not just a little. It was so bad that we had to pull over for a while. When it became apparent that we would be sitting there all night, we got back on the road, driving only about 30 mph with our flashers on. Anxious to get off the road and quite hungry, I saw a crowded exit, so I took it. Sure enough, there's a Mexican restaurant. It was in what appeared to be an old Pizza Hut building, painted in true Latino fashion in bright yellow, green, and orange. Hubby was not entirely comfortable about stopping there and suggested that we go next-door to Taco Bell.

I was of the opinion that the best Mexican dives look like this, and that we were in for a treat. Well, a treat is what we got! We walked in and it was something akin to a bad made-for-tv-movie. The music screeched to a stop, and every eye turned towards us. We were the only people in there not of the Latino persuasion. I'm not being prejudiced in that; it's just the honest truth. A not-so-friendly hostess took us to our seat, threw the menus at us, took our drink orders, and offered a muttered invitation for us to help ourselves to the chip 'n salsa bar. When she was out of earshot, Hubby informed me that neither of us would be going to the bar, or the restroom, or would even be allowed to make a strange noise. I felt like an invader! We were completely unnerved.

As I began to take in my surroundings, I realized that this was the most authentic Mexican restaurant I'd ever been to. Not such a good thing really. All the signage around was written first in Spanish, with the English translation added as an afterthought in small, barely legible lettering. The menu was that way too, fully equipped with dishes such as cow tongue and what-not. I decided on a beef burrito, rice and beans. Hubby opted for a chile reino, taco, rice and beans. Words can't describe how truly awful it looked when it arrived. We both tried to tough it out and just eat it. About the time that his chile reino vomited some really yucky stuffing onto his plate was the same time I pulled a soggy, brown piece of lettuce out of my burrito. It was at that point that Hubby said it was time to go. We scooted our food around our plates as to not to offend anyone until we were gone, paid out $13 for the "meal" and went next door to Taco Bell.

It's a thousand wonders that our stomachs were not seriously damaged by the few bites that we did eat! Welcome to my world, Hubby!