Exit Ramp — March 23, 2023 - Johnny Boy Marketing

🧩 Today’s Puzzle Pieces 🧩
Anniversary Changes 💍
Near Death Experience 💀
Dreamcatcher Drama 😳

All relationships change over time. Friendships, parent-child, boss-employee, husband-wife … no matter the relationship, the only constant thing is change.

My marriage has changed mightily since it began. When Wifey Poo and I said our vows on March 22, 1997, we were — looking back — young, dumb kids. Of course, neither of us thought of ourselves that way at the time. We were young, smart adults.

Maybe “dumb” is too strong of a word. It’s probably better to say “ignorant.” The only way to learn a lot of things life has to teach you is by living it. And, boy-howdy, have we lived it.

Wifey Poo and I celebrated 26 years of marriage last night with a dinner at our Italian restaurant. Everywhere we’ve lived, we’ve had an Italian restaurant. We play off the Billy Joel song “Scenes From an Italian Restaurant” and regularly tell each other we’ll meet any time we want … at our Italian restaurant.

Our current Italian restaurant is Anthonino’s Taverna, a wonderful place on The Hill, the Italian neighborhood in St. Louis. The restaurant is a fusion between the husband-wife owners’ Italian and Greek heritage, and so were the meals Wifey Poo and I chose last night. I had chicken marsala. She had a gyro. We shared cannolis for dessert.

The conversation over our meals showed just how much our relationship has changed through the years. We have a shared history, some great and some not-so-great, that we touched on. We have kids with complicated schedules to juggle. We have different individual pursuits. We have a son who’s getting married in about a year. We have a future daughter-in-law whose birthday falls on our anniversary. All of these were topics to discuss as we ate.

And then we walked around The Hill for 15 minutes, not because either of us were particularly in a mood for a post-dinner stroll but because we had to do something for a quarter hour.

Boy The Younger has a particular talent with Rubik’s Cubes that he’s discovered and developed over the course of the past year or so. He can solve the standard cube in as little as 17 seconds and has moved on to solving 4×4 cubes, 2×2 cubes and pyramids. There is such a thing as speed cubing competitions, and BTY is ready for his first. It’s on May 9 in Columbia, Missourah, and signups opened at 7:15 p.m. last night. Rather than get caught in the car driving from the restaurant to our Humble Country Home and risk missing out on one of the 100 available slots, we walked around and then logged in from my car to get him signed up. We even Facetimed him so he could witness this historic Core Four event.

So yeah, relationships change. My marriage has changed. It’s like nothing either of us could have imagined when we said “I do.”

Despite all the trails and heartache, despite all those changes, it is fundamentally, amazingly, wonderfully good.

… And then it was almost over. To say that I nearly died on my anniversary is a slight exaggeration. But only a slight one.

Wifey Poo and I met at the restaurant for our anniversary dinner. The Hill isn’t far from my office, and it’s about 50 minutes from our home. That meant we drove home separately.

As I was preparing to exit Interstate 70 for the last few miles of country-road driving, I noticed headlights. That should not ever be a thing when you’re getting on an exit ramp. Last night, though, it was.

A huge-ass moving truck was traveling down the exit ramp. I slammed on my brakes and laid on the horn, which is quite a weak sound when you drive a Shitty Little Nissan Versa (TM). Thankfully, it got the point across.

The dumbass in the moving truck backed up the exit ramp, then proceeded about 20 feet to the right turn he meant to take — the service road that leads to the truck stop and greasy-spoon restaurant.

Exactly how far that moron would have gone had I not been exiting at that moment is something I shudder to think about, but he was showing no signs of slowing down as he nearly entered I-70 going east in the westbound lanes.

Idiot.

My Lab Partner, Amanda

(Editor’s note: Welcome to Living Eulogies. All recollections are accurate in the author’s mind only. Apologies in advance to everyone who has different recollection of the same events. Send all complaints to your Tucker Carlson. Apply liberally.) Writing these Living Eulogies has brought up many things — for me, for the people who have read…

Exit Ramp — March 23, 2023

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