American Muscle (and no I’m not talking about Mike)- August 3, 2010

In my attempt to spread happiness, cheer, and optimism around to one and all, I think I’ve been bamboozled. That’s right, B.A.M.B.O.O.Z.L.E.D, by my very own husband. Let me get right to it.

Mike has been moping around for the past six months in between cyber-stalking the Brown’s Performance car website, perusing their inventory for the perfect muscle car. At first he had his heart set on a Pontiac GTO, but when he told me how much those suckers cost, I shut it right down! “30k for a 1967 car?” is what I’d ask him over and over and over again, to which he’d say, “You don’t understand. They’re worth every penny.” Not my pennies they aren’t. I would stare at him blankly, thinking that even though I wanted nothing more than to give him what he wanted, there was no way I was agreeing to it. Especially not when I can see every inch of the beautiful maple hardwood floors in my living room and dining room because we have NO furniture!

When we bought our house in September we agreed that we’d renovate it before going out and buying furniture. It seemed smart, and responsible to not run out and splurge at The Pottery Barn or Restoration Hardware on the most exquisite furniture only then to worry about it getting ruined during the demo of those rooms. And being the planner that I am, I figured, instead of renovating right away, we should: spend this year eliminating debt, save money, max out our IRA’s, open up a CD or two, and then start renovations in 2011. Sounds like a good plan, right? One that doesn’t involve my husband buying a big ole toy, right? Ha, ha…Who am I kidding?

Two Sunday mornings ago, Mike and I were lying in bed talking when I heard the clackidy-clack of the keys on his Blackberry, and I knew exactly what he was doing. But before I could turn over to look at him, he was shoving his phone showing a picture of a car in my face, and in a low-key, borderline desperate voice he asked, “Can I have it, honey?” And as I looked over at those hopeless eyes, my heart coercing my mouth to respond way faster than it should have, I said, “Yes honey, you can have it.” What in the heck??? I’m not sure if it was the residual Xanax (which I took while at the hospital visiting my aunt) left in my system, his piercing amber eyes that always seem to get me, or my new outlook that life is short and we should live it being happy, that did it. But whatever the reason, I said yes, and there was no getting out of it.

This past Saturday, Mike drove his baby, a 1971 super shiny gunmetal-gray Camaro home and I must say, she’s quite the beauty, and everything and more he said she’d be. She doesn’t purr like a kitten, her 454 big block roars ferociously like a lion. The quake she makes when idling accompanied by the sound of plump, plump, plump is simply melodic. Her chrome shines like the top of the Chrysler building (I will quote any and all things Annie. I’m forewarning you now), and even the scent of fuel spewing out of the exhaust pipes is somewhat alluring. I know the descriptions may sound odd coming from me, but my dad wanted me to be a boy and we went to the Auto Show every year, hence my ridiculous fascination with cars. My mom once asked me when I thought I’d grow out of it. I remember shaking my head thinking, probably never. Though she wasn’t amused, I know Mike sure is glad I haven’t.

This car is crazy sexy, and tough, just like Mike. And I don’t think I can justly describe the look on his face when he pulled into our driveway with it. As I walked to the door and looked out, I could see there were already neighbors outside ogling over the car, and Mike’s smile couldn’t have been brighter. He looked genuinely happy, and at that moment I couldn’t have been happier to have said yes.

Life is about more than a list of things you have to do. It’s about compromise. It’s about working hard and being rewarded for it. Mike gets up every day and goes to work. We have paid off a lot of debt, maxed out our IRA contributions for the year, opened up CD’s, and have gotten a lot of work done on our house already. Not to mention we made a movie last year we’re proud of, that we funded ourselves. We pay our own bills. Take great care of our animals. Put money away every month for a rainy day, and try not to frivolously throw cash around. So why shouldn’t he have a toy that genuinely makes him smile?

I went outside and Mike started to walk toward me, his beam hard to hide, and he said, “What do you think?” And I just smiled as I walked around the car admiring it.

I may have to wait a little longer to get my Pottery Barn living room set, and it may take us a tad longer than planned to get the last of the credit card paid, but that’s okay with me. Because as I sit here thinking about the smile on Mike’s face when he was showing me the car, cleaning out the garage for the car, driving off to a car show in the car, the excitement radiating from him when he came back from the car show and told me about all the people that made comments about the car, and the joy he had just to go to LOWES to buy a new door lock for the garage his car is in, I know it’s only a small price to pay for his happiness.

Initially I thought I was bamboozled and maybe I was, but that’s cool with me, because I have a little bamboozling of my own to do. I’ve created a new list, that has “Chores Mike Has To Do” written all over it! Payback’s a B, Mikey!!!! Just joshing.

Life is good!