Living with "I Love Karen"

“I think I’d like to go camping for my birthday”. “Hello? Shoot did I lose a signal again?” I was talking to my husband on my way home from work.

“No, I’m still here.”

“Then why aren’t you answering me?”

“Because I don’t know what to say – again.”

My husband, bless his heart, is the All-American Ricky Ricardo. He’s handsome. He can sing. He could play the bongos if he tried. And he’s married to a blonde “I Love Lucy”.

“I want to wake up in nature!” I exclaimed, getting caught up in the potential of my make-believe world. “I want to smell the coffee and bacon cooking on the campfire. I want to gaze at the stars and watch the birds and wildflowers.”

“We can do that from our back deck. With comfortable chairs and a nice glass of wine.”

“You are missing the point,” I said, exasperated. “Think what an adventure it would be.”

“It’s a daily adventure right here with you. I don’t think can stand anymore adventure. We have plenty.”

“But we have the gear! The tent, the sleeping bags, the air mattress, the portable stove…”

He cut me off. “The tent was loaned out 10 years ago and never returned. The mice in the garage decided they not only wanted to sleep in our sleeping bags, but that they tasted pretty good too. And one of the kids borrowed the portable stove for their apartment and I think it caught on fire. We have no “gear”. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

Just like Ricky, he could see the wheels turning in my head. I must get some kind of look or smile, because I swear he knows when I am trying to conjure up a harebrained idea.

“Karen…don’t do it.” (This said with a fake Hispanic accent. He thinks he’s funny.)

“Oh don’t worry honey. It’ll be ok. I’ll see you at home. In about an hour or two. I have a couple stops on the way”

“Seriously, Karen. What have you got up your sleeve? You have some ‘splainin to do.” (Did I mention he thinks he’s funny?)

“There is a sale at the sporting goods store and…”

“Do me a favor. Let me plan your birthday. I will handle the whole thing. And you will love it. I promise.”

Darn. How could I refuse that? I gave in. And the next day he presented me with his plans. It was a compromise, he told me.

“I’ve rented us a room for a few nights at a romantic bed and breakfast. It’s way out in the country. Lots of hiking trails. You can wake up to the sound of birds and the smell of coffee and bacon. You don’t have to blow up an air mattress. You can take a shower every day. And they will make your bed.”

Wow. He drives a hard bargain. How could I refuse? I hugged him and told him he was the most wonderful husband in the world. And as he walked away, a smug smile on his face, I could swear he was singing “Babaloo”.

Now we just have to find out if Fred and Ethyl can watch the dogs while we are gone.