Cat Out of The Bag (AKA: I Suck.)

Posted on November 22, 2008

I am terrible at keeping secrets.  Don’t tell me ANYTHING you don’t want anyone else to know, because I will talk.  As much as I day dream about being a spy, there is no way in a million years I could be.  For one, I could never pull of a “secret” identity.  Someone would ask me, “What so you do for a living?”  And I would spill it.  “By day I am a mild manner house wife, by night I am a bad ass super ninja spy.  What do you do?” Plus, if I ever got caught, well Imagine me tied to a chair with a sweaty and unwashed bad guy with some sharp implement watching me from the other side of the room, then imagine that scene from Goonies where the Fratelli’s were interrogating Chunk.  That would be me.  “So, don’t even bother with the torture.  When I was in 1st grade I…”

For the last two weeks I have been planning a surprise party for John’s 30th birthday.  I was doing SO good.  I made babysitting arrangements, sent out of the Evite, figured out the venue (Rock Bottom, one of our old haunting grounds when we lived in Colorado,) and told John we were going on a date.  Then, last night after a couple of REALLY strong White Russians, John asked if we should change our date to the Chart House (where we got engaged, and then went to for all of anniversaries when we ived in Colorado.)  A very sweet thought, but not at all in the plans.  Now, I could have told him it was too far away.  Or that traffic to get there would suck.  Or even that I had my heart set on Rock Bottom.  But no.  Not me.  I tell, “We have to go to Rock Bottom because I am planning a surprise party for you and everyone is meeting us there.”  I.  Suck.

So, John knows.  However, there is a little element of surprise to the whole thing.  He was surprised I kept it a secret for as long as I did.  So, that’s something right?

The good news is he is really excited about his party.  He’s really happy its going to happen.  The bad news is I feel like a tool.  Oh well.