There is a NASCAR race in Charlotte this weekend.

Also, my agency is hosting a 5k run next Saturday to raise funds for our housing programs. We have been trying to be creative and market this thing as cheaply as possible, and one of our ideas was to send staff members out to other runs and hand out postcards.  Well, the Director and I were supposed to go this Saturday, and he called to get permission and they said no, they would prefer that we didn’t. OK, fine. I have my Saturday back.  So I called my husband.

Me: “Hey. Terry and I don’t have to go to the race on Saturday to hand out fliers.”

Him: “OK. That’s cool.”  “What?”

Me: “What?”

Him: “There are so many things wrong with that I don’t know what to say.”

Me: “What?”

Him: “You, a former debutante, and Terry, an African-American man, were going to a NASCAR race to get NASCAR fans to run to raise money for people with AIDS.  I just can’t process all the wrong in that.”

Me: …

Him: …

Me: “We weren’t going to the NASCAR race. We were going to the 5k run to benefit the Children’s Hospital.”

Him: …

Me: …

Him: “Well. That makes a little more sense. Because seriously.”