Carey, are you okay?

Right now (assuming that I work this correctly and this posts on Saturday), Abby and I are enjoying family time in upstate New York, and Carey is holding down the fort at home. Alone.

Have I ever told you the story of my first night of classes at Fordham? After Carey and I got married and moved to Hoboken, NJ, I started a graduate program at Fordham University's Rose Hill campus in the Bronx. Because most of the other people in my program were teachers (this was a Masters Program in History), classes were held at night. My first night of classes, I jokingly told Carey to stay safe and not burn down the house. Our apartment was a short three block walk from the PATH train, and as I rounded the corner onto our block at about 10:30 pm, what do I find in front of our brownstone? A fire truck. I break into a run (impressive given that I was wearing heels), not slowing down until I'm in front of our house and realize that it's not on fire. (We later found out that the firemen driving the truck, which was responding to a non-fire medical emergency down the street, knew our downstairs neighbors and stopped by to say hello.)

So, as Abby and I enjoy family time in Bergen, I hope that Carey is staying safe and enjoying himself. But, just in case, why don't you call Carey to make sure he's okay? You can bet that I'll be calling, but I don't want my handsome hubby to get lonely... :-)