Nothing like an idyllic first married Christmas.

The morning of December 27, 2011 in Virginia Beach came cold, rainy, and too soon.  I had an early morning breakfast lined up with a very dear friend, and I was excited about it.  "Jon, honey, sorry to wake you.  I hate to do this to you, but can you please hop up and move your car out of the driveway so I can take the minivan to meet Michelle?," I cooed in a warm and cozy, nurturing, yet apologetic voice to wake him.  I was greeted with an angry grunt and a strong suggestion that I move the car.  Preposterous,  I thought.  "Please Jon?"  Again I was kind, but come on - you can crawl right back into bed here, mister.  I decided to give him a few minutes to warm to the idea and padded my way to the powder room in the interim.  I returned.  "Jon, can you please move the car real quick?"  Suddenly, his head shot up in protest, "Can we please talk about this?"  I quickly became a raging GRUMP and replied tersely, "No.  I am late."  He practically growled at me as he threw the covers aside and slipped on a fleece + hippy TOMS, per usual.  What followed was not pretty.  (But it was really funny)

After a near-scuffle in front of 948 Bobolink, a one Erin Horne jerked the white minivan into reverse while yelling out the driver's window, "Oh great attitude, you big baby!"  [Threw it into Drive]  "Thanks a lot, Jerk!" *Honk*  And careened out of Joyce and Glenn's driveway.  Turns out the joke was on me.  I didn't know there's a glitch with that window.   Once it's rolled down, a real effort is required to get the fool thing back into place.  It was a cold and wet ride to Mary's for breakfast.  Ahh yes, the mystery of marriage.  And all before 8am.  HILARIOUS.

I was laughing pretty hard about this like 10 seconds down the road.   And I came to find out that Jon Horne was smiling as he marched back into the house, all the while being verbally assaulted from behind by the lunatic in the minivan.  My parents' poor neighbors.