And the Countdown Begins....

For most people watching football these last few weekends, you probably got up to get a beer when the commercials started and didn't pay much attention to what was going on when the action broke on the field.  We were doing the same thing but somehow we managed to sit our beer-drinking behinds down on the couch and saw the announcement that made us cringe.

The upcoming Daytona 500.

For most race fans, the announcement of the Daytona 500 was something to celebrate (especially if you were rooting for an NFL team in the AFC West and, therefore, your football season was over around mid-November).  But for those of us who feel like the race season just ended and the start of it means the end of weekends as we know it...it didn't get us all that excited.

Personally, I would like to thank NASCAR® for delaying the season just a bit so that Mike will actually be home for Valentine's Day this year.  I know that this delay has race husbands all over the country wondering what in the hell they're going to get their significant others now that they can't surprise her with a romantic trip to a race track and a candlelit dinner in their campers.  But for the first time since Mike and I have been together...I actually get to see him physically scramble around to try and figure out what to get me for Valentine's Day.  Because the excuse, "I can't do much because I'll be at the track" just won't fly this year.
Can't wait to see his romantic ass in action.

And for those race husbands...sorry, guys.  Guess you'll just have to surprise her with a die cut car of her favorite team.  Every woman's wish come true.

The #78 team is doing what I'm assuming every other team out there is doing:  Never able to just sit back and relax during the 8 weekends they actually have off every year, they started working on the 2012 season the second the 2011 season ended.  Oh sure, about half the team took a few days off to get married at the beginning of the off-season (if you're a commitment phobe...don't drink the water at the shop), but as soon as they came back, it was back to the daily grind of making a car go at the speed of light.

They spent last weekend (yes, one of their precious weekends off) testing in...you guessed it...Daytona.  One can only assume that NASCAR was worried that teams across the country might get too used to sleeping in on a Saturday and form a movement to have race day moved to Wednesday.

But NASCAR shouldn't worry.  I can only speak for what goes on in my house, but thanks to 38 weekends of getting up at 4 AM (what are you NASCAR execs?  A bunch of dairy farmers or something?), Mike hasn't slept past 7 AM since I've known him.

So, now the countdown is on.  And we have a mere 5 weeks until the start of the season that never ends.  Mike and I will scramble to fit in a year's worth of a social life in the 5 weekends remaining.  And once that happens, we will see each other for about 4 hours every week because, between 6 kids and all of their activities, we are completely booked up on the days that he's in town.

Guess it's time to start our engines.

Photo Credit

Feeling "Off" on an Off Weekend

I know all of you NASCAR fans were disappointed that you didn't get to see that goofy little gofer this weekend, but I was good with it.  It means I got to have a normal weekend with Mike.

This has been, of course, off-set by the testing the team has to go to on Tuesday which means he'll be gone for about a week solid.

ARGH.

We were hoping to come up with a plan for the weekend, but our ideas of what's fun on an off weekend somewhat differ.  Since I'm stuck at home all of the time, holed up in my basement office with hardly any sunlight (I know...I sound like a character from Twilight or something), I wanted nothing more than to go out and have a night on the town.  I don't want to cook, clean, or even look at dirty laundry on the rare off-weekend.

Since all Mike ever does is sleep in a different hotel room every week, he wants nothing more than to hole up in the house and not see sunlight for about 5 days straight.  All of his clothes are dirty and he hasn't had a home-cooked meal in about 2 weeks. 

You can see where this might be a problem.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, I managed to pull him away from his computer and convince him to put on something other than pajama pants on Friday night so that we could go out to dinner and air ourselves out a little bit.  We got so gussied up, we even put on our nice blue jeans.

And we were both rewarded with food poisoning later that evening.

Back to the pajama pants.

Now we are on the countdown to reality, where he'll leave on Tuesday for a test and then it's off to Bristol, his favorite track (I think because it looks like a coliseum and satisfies his secret dream of becoming a gladiator).  He'll be hanging out with his buddies from the team while I'm left behind with the kids who do their best to fit in as many "potty words" in one sentence as they can.

So basically his conversations on the road with the guys and my conversations at home with the kids are about the same.

Once Upon a Time, I Met a Prince in a Fire Suit....

I am a reluctant NASCAR fan.

In fact, if it weren't for my significant other, Mike, my Sundays would open up significantly until football season.

But now I sit on my couch, hoping to catch a glimpse of my love in a fire-suit because that's the only time I see him on weekends.

NASCAR and I are in a custody dispute about who gets him the majority of the time.

I'm losing.

See, for all of you NASCAR fans, the fact that they race 38 weekends out of the year is a good thing.  Gives you something to shape your week.  But for those of us at home...we're waiting for the checkered flag because that means someone is getting ready to come home and tackle his honey-do list.

I know...not as romantic as you thought it would be, is it?

Dating someone on a Sprint Cup team has forced me into a fast left-hand learning curve with a steep bank.  Up until I met him, I thought all the driver did was get in the car, push a button, and turn left.  The only thing I wasn't sure about was whether they were allowed to use cruise control or not.

Can you see where I might have been a little lost when we first met?


Now I'm so educated, I should have a PhD in NASCAR gossip.  I know that no one wants to get assigned in the pits next to Dale Earnhardt, Jr. because he isn't the best at parallel parking while going 70 miles an hour.  I know the drivers who are nice to their fans and Mariah-Carey-Diva-Like when they get into their motorcoaches.  And I know immediately what's happened at work that day by the smell of burnt gear oil that rubs off on me when I give him a welcome home hug.

Judging by what's going on at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway today...he may smell like a lot of things when he gets home tonight.  But champagne from Victory Lane won't be one of them.

ARGH.