Ben has made reservations for Pat and changed my seat assignments so we can sit together. This will be a fun trip. I've got to let Mike in on the big secret. I've been trying to postpone the fight for as long as I can. Usually I preface news I know he will consider bad with "Before you fly off the handle and say irrational mean things, take a deep breath and let what I'm telling you sink in, then do your best to react like a mature man instead of a spoiled brat." He keeps a cool head with that warning and we avoid a major blow-up.

If, however, he refuses to accept my plans as finalized and not open to negotiation, I'll suggest we have a session with Dr. Irby. I finally gave up on trying to discuss it or make plans with him because everything he said was so negative. And he acted like I needed his permission to do this. It's exactly what pushed me in years past to making several trips to Tampa with Jeanette instead of him. At the last minute, usually the day before we left, he would say, "I've changed my mind, I want to go with you." Who can make plans with a partner like that?

So I've learned over the years to just leave him out of the equation, do what I want to do, and he usually makes it fine while I'm gone. I haven't done this since his stroke, so he will need to make plans for help while I'm away. From the trips we've made together I've learned that he really doesn't enjoy traveling, complains the whole time we're away, and diminishes my enjoyment, too. What should be a vacation turns into even more trouble and stress for me than I already have.

It's so nice out today, I'm going for a long walk with the dogs. The rest of the week is supposed to be rainy. An hour later. I walked, they ran, unleashed, we all came in hungry and thirsty. We've had lunch, and like angels, they're now down for their afternoon naps. Mike's still out. He left around 10 headed for the gym, the grocery, and the pharmacy.

The birth certificate came today. I need to get the passport ap filled out and turned in. Mike found the UPS envelope on the back porch when he came in, saw that it was addressed to me and it was from Texas, then said, “must be some of your family tree stuff.” Totally clueless. If he weren’t so easy to deceive, my conscience wouldn’t hurt like it does, but it’s too much like taking candy from a baby. I feel really rotten and ashamed.

On the other hand, why isn’t he more in tune to my wants and needs? Why didn’t it occur to him that something from “Vital Statistics” in Austin, Texas, might just be my birth certificate? Especially since I told him just last week that a birth certificate is required to get a passport. He’s probably forgotten that I am a native Texan. And he probably thinks I’ve not thought any more about going to Ireland, since I haven’t mentioned it to him for the past week. I sent him a link to this blog two weeks ago, and he hasn't looked at it once, that's how little he cares about what I think. Now that I have rationalized and justified my plans, I feel a little better.