We woke up on Saturday to sunshine and blue skies. Jay, who spends the week lit by fluorescent lighting and the flicker of his computer screen, announced that WE NEED TO DO SOMETHING!

So, good wife and family activity organizer that I am, I leap for my computer. Click click click… “AHA! Here’s something… how about this? Remlinger Farms. Blueberry picking… farm animals… a steam train. It’s perfect, right?” And he agrees.

I leave the website up on the computer. “Why don’t you write down the directions,” I suggest, and am off to pack my backpack.

I have, at times, been accused of being untrusting, obsessive, possibly even a nag. I prefer to think of it as conscientious and thorough. As we load into the car I ask him again, “Did you write down the directions?”

He nods and grunts, which worries me a little. Jay tends to be a bit… shall we say overconfident when it comes to the detailed map of Seattle that exists in his head. But I let it go… I wouldn’t want to be accused of (gasp) nagging.

I roll down my window, turn up the radio, and we head east.

Several miles later we pull off of 520 and into less familiar territory. “Umm…” Jason pauses at an intersection, looking uncertainly from right to left.

“What?” I ask, “I thought you said you got the directions!”

“Well, I looked at them.” He turns right. “I think it’s this way.”

We drive several more miles, and Jay’s face gets less and less certain. “I’m not sure this is the right road,” he finally admits.

“Wow, good thing you WROTE DOWN THE DIRECTIONS.” I shoot back. Admittedly it is rather caustic. But come ON!

I pull out the Thomas Guide from the back seat. Never fear, always-prepared Jenny is… ta-da! Prepared!

Although as it turns out, always-prepared Jenny, while prepared, is not so good at reading Thomas Guides. And so Jay pulls the car off the road. We scan the maps together. After seven minutes we ascertain that we ARE in fact on the right road… We think.

As we drive, Jay says, “If we see a tourist attraction sign that says Remlinger Farms, we’ll know we’re on the right road.”

“NOOOOooooo!!!” I exclaim, with withering sarcasm. Jay sends me a weary look, but it’s not enough to stop me. “CAPTAIN OBVIOUS, I’m so glad you are with us! Whatever would we do without you? What happens if we see THE FARM… does that mean we’re on the right road too?”

At least *I* think I’m funny.

We did make it to the farm. And next time? Oh, I wish I could say that next time Jay would responsibly look up and write down the directions to our destination. But I know he won’t. And when he gets confused, or we get lost, that’s when I’ll jump in and make witty and cutting remarks at his expense. It’s how we operate, and there’s a certain comfort in the predictability of it all.

THIS is what marriage is all about.