Most of our days we go through life so fast that we don’t even notice them passing. Especially in light of the holidays… working, raising kids, maintaining the house, figuring out how to pay for Christmas… it’s all a blur. Those days are the filler of our lives. “What’s new with you?” “Oh, you know, just carrying on.”
But there are other days too. The days everyone hopes to avoid, yet everyone has.
Everyone knows what I’m talking about. Unexpected tragedies. Burdens that almost break your back. Worries that rob you of sleep. Family Discord. Anger. Pain. Resentment. Fear.
I woke up this morning, worrying (again) about something that I’ve worried about for so long, it’s automatic. My Achilles heel. Yet for all the times I’ve given it my attention – freely smothering it with my hard-earned energy – that worry has never come to pass.
I am – literally – worrying about something non-existent. What happened in the past, what could happen in the future, yet has no bearing on the immediate present.
I’ve cried to God about it so often that I, myself, am tired of hearing my own complaint!
I thought of everyone else. Doing the same thing I do. Just trying to make a living, taking care of our families, getting as many errands done in one day as possible, and attempting to hold it together one more day. Meeting the demands of everyday life.
You know. Scrabbling around gathering nuts. (Yeah, the squirrels do it. We do it. Every bug and plant does it. In short… every living thing is concerned with the same thing. That constant need to push back at the struggle of survival doesn’t take a vacation for losing your job, the kid’s measles, or home repairs.)
You know what? This is the price of life.
So. If this is the price of life, then what is the paycheck?
Sweet kisses on my face from Hubby. Kids. Sisters. The dog. (’nuff said). Family! Who can describe the connection with family? Love.
Then there’s music. Oh, happiness – it’s that time of year when every choral/instrumental group performs the most wondrous sounds.
Dark, cold nights spent cuddled under piles of soft blankets. Dog snores from the bedside.
Christmas movies. Driving around and viewing all the sparkling decorations. Holiday scenes made out of gingerbread and candies. Eggnog.
A warm bath. Good books and good neighbors. Ice sculptures of incredible beauty. Snow. Crystal clear night skies, sparkling white and blue days.
Green! (There’s always green somewhere.)
The scent of sugar from the Tea Olive plant on my windowsill. Jasmine flowers.
Yes, the price of living is high. But the paycheck is pretty darn great.
What are some of the rewards included in your paycheck?
“Joy and sorrow are the light and shade of life; without light and shade no picture is clear.” Hazrat Inayat Khan
Hubby and I went to see the movie Interstellar late last night. Interstellar Heaven!
I was so pumped to see this film, but I know how that can be… you get yourself so excited by your expectations that the actual event can’t live up to it, and you’re disappointed.
I didn’t want that to happen with Interstellar. (Hard sci-fi films are so far and few in-between as it is nowadays.)
So before we went, I read many of the on-line comments and reviews, both professional and from the general public that had already seen it. It seemed people were divided between two camps. Lots of 5 star reviews from people that loved it, and a lesser amount of 1 or 2 stars from the haters. There were very few in the middle.
You either loved it, or you hated it.
General consensus of the lovers:
- Amazing special effects.
- Moving emotional performances.
- Gripping tension that kept you glued to the edge of your seat.
General consensus of the haters:
- What exactly is happening? Too difficult to understand.
- Too long.
From within both camps there were comments that the sound quality was a problem. The music, they said, was too loud to hear the dialogue.
After reading the reviews, I was still looking forward to seeing the movie but my expectations were tempered, mainly because of the sound thing. I already have hard-of-hearing issues and those movies where I spend every other minute whispering to Hubby “What did they say?” tend to drive me nuts. Not to mention Hubby doesn’t enjoy the constant interruptions.
So we saw it. And here’s my take:
It was gripping enough that the 3 hour length didn’t bother me. Nor did it bother Hubby, and he often gets antsy even in 2 hour movies. He even wants to see it again. (I’m not so sure I do, although I’d love to see that ending again.)
The emotional performances were just what they said. Great. McConaughey acted his a** off, not something you usually see from him. Matt Damon played an irritating character, and he did it decent enough so that you really didn’t like him much. Jessica Chastain did a good job as the adult daughter of McConaughey but the one who really stole that role was Mackenzie Foy, who played the same character as a child. Even Anne Hathaway who – I’m sorry, I just don’t like her – did a really credible performance.
As far as the science of the film? Quantum gravity at its finest. Loved the strings! Loved the Rama-like spacecraft (just exactly when is Morgan Freeman’s production company going to film Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous With Rama anyway? He’s been promising it for years!) It was reminiscent of several hard sci-fi books, actually. Using “dimensional shortcuts” (like a fifth dimension) to travel or send messages through space-time is a trick of many a science fiction plot.
And then there was all the relativity. Can you ever have too much of Einstein’s relativity?
I think not.
The negatives I would give the movie echo the same as other reviewers… the sound quality. The science is daunting… I’m a bit of a physics buff but I certainly didn’t understand all of it. You really need to be up on all the latest theories to grasp the whole thing. But I might have understood more if I could’ve heard it! The music, while intense and wonderful, grew so loud – right during the key points of the story, of course – that even Hubby didn’t know what they said.
Do you think they did that on purpose? So we would miss a key physics explanation? Maybe they were fuzzy on it themselves and so covered it up with loud music? Ha – probably not. But it was kind of frustrating.
The other negative just has to do with my own personal idiocies in movies. I LOVE disaster films. And I was really looking forward to those gigantic tidal waves, frozen clouds, and planetary fires that were promised in this film.
They were a disappointment. The waves were pretty good, but the frozen planet was “eh” and the planetary fires were fields of corn burning on Earth. (Oh yeah, as an aside, that plant blight and Dust Bowl rendition of Earth was pretty cool.)
Still, when you have so much of Albert’s general theory of relativity in a film – well, as far as I’m concerned, Albert rules over all, so disaster disappointments are forgiven.
Plus, it was wonderful (for a change) to actually see hard sci-fi on the big screen. So much of what they call sci-fi nowadays is more like magic, or fantasy. I’m not opposed to those, I enjoy those too, but I’m old enough to remember when fantasy and sci-fi were different shelves at the bookstore. Nowadays, you go to Barnes & Noble and look in sci-fi and find mostly paranormal fantasy. Vampires, witches, and a few alien adventures with swords.
When and why sci-fi became vampires is another subject. Maybe I’ll explore that on another post someday.
But for now, here’s the bottom line:
If you have a working knowledge of physics, Interstellar is going to rock your world. You’ll be discussing it with your friends for days.
If you don’t understand the science one iota, it’s still pretty cool.
I say “Go”. At the speed of light.
Halloween is my husband’s favorite holiday. It has nothing to do with ghosts and goblins, and everything to do with pumpkins.
As of last count, we have 17 pumpkins so far this year. Luckily – this being Halloween week – I think it’s (almost) safe to say we might finish the season under 20.
What is it about pumpkins that Hubby finds so fascinating? I mean, seriously, we spend quite a chunk of money on those orange orbs!
Whatever the fascination, shopping for pumpkins with Hubby has become more than just picking up a few at the grocery store. It’s become a major tradition for us, and has pushed our neighbors to collect pumpkins as well. My husband has single handedly boosted the pumpkin industry to new heights.
I go outside to get the mail and run into the neighbor lady across the street… “Uh-oh,” she says. “I see you’ve added a sixth pumpkin to your collection. I better get a move on, I only have four.” She confesses to me how every night, when she drives home, she counts the number of pumpkins we have. It gives a whole new meaning to “keeping up with the Jones’s”. (I LOVE our neighborhood. Entertainment central.)
Every few days Hubby comes home with a new pumpkin from one place or another. On weekends, we go pumpkin shopping, looking for the best deals. (When you buy in quantity, you can’t afford pricey.)
Several years ago we found a place called Bob’s. Or maybe it’s called Dan’s. I can never remember. But who can blame me for forgetting the name of the place when it’s located between Frank street and Tom’s pumpkin farm? Whatever… Bob’s is a pumpkin man’s paradise. It’s entrance is a skinny little dirt road tucked in between tall trees. If you’re not careful, you’ll miss it and pass right by. (And end up at Tom’s. Something Tom is probably happy about.)
Once you turn into Bob’s, just beyond the trees, is a wide clearing in the woods, filled to capacity with pumpkins. HUGE pumpkins. Bob’s pumpkins are all the same price… $6.00 each. It doesn’t matter what size you choose, every pumpkin is $6.00, from pie size to monstrosity. But here’s the funny thing… they’re ALL monstrosities. There are no little pumpkins!
Plus, it’s all self-serve. Bob is not there. Nobody is there. A shabby looking, beat-up wood box is set up at the far end of the clearing (surrounded by huge pumpkins, of course), with a sign that says you are on the “honor system”. You total your number of pumpkins by 6 and feed your money into the slot on top of the box. One glance up, and you see a number of security cameras sitting in the trees, some of them conveniently located to catch the license plates on your car.
So apparently Bob is not as trusting as his sign would leave one to believe.
Bob’s is a great place. Hubby looks forward to our trip to Bob’s every year. He roams around from one huge pile of pumpkins to the next, trying to decide between them. “They’re all so beautiful!” he says. (Obviously, orange is Hubby’s favorite color.) Of course, we never leave with just one. Usually we have our dog in the back seat (he needs a pumpkin outing too) so Hubby is limited to how many king-sized pumpkins he can fit in the trunk. He thinks the dog should be able to share his seat with a pumpkin. I put my foot down on this. The dog is 95 pounds. He needs the whole seat. (I also refuse to carry a pumpkin on my lap all the way home.)
By the way – in case you’re wondering – yes, we do carve a few of them. Our neighbor lady comes over (brings her own pumpkin) and we have a little carving party, during which Hubby reads “The Great Pumpkin” by Charles Schulz. It’s another wacky part of our pumpkin tradition.
But mostly, all those pumpkins just adorn the outside of our house. When they start to soften we move them under the trees or back into the compost pile, where the wild critters have come to depend upon them for winter food. Every time the weather warms up enough for the fruits to thaw, you see squirrels sitting on top of the pumpkins, eating handfuls of orange.
Some people may think this pumpkin obsession of Hubby’s is a bit out of control. But it doesn’t bother me. Pumpkins make Hubby happy. Besides, I’m hardly a stranger to obsessive behavior myself (see My Family Intervention). The year I ordered well over 2,000 flower bulbs, Hubby helped me plant them. He never complained and he hauls stuff around the garden for me all the time. I figure what comes around goes around… I don’t complain about his pumpkins.
There was, however, that one year when the neighbors did (The Great Pumpkin Patch). But given some of the crazy things our neighbors have done, I have no worries. Like I said, I love our neighborhood.
Isn’t this what makes life so much fun? Happy Halloween everyone!
Sometimes I feel like I’m surrounded by ignorant people. Sometimes being this morning, actually.
Logically, I know it’s not true. In truth, I don’t think I’ve ever even met an ignorant person, so how could I be surrounded by them? We all have subjects which we’re ignorant of, but that’s not the same thing as someone who is ignorant. Plus, our definitions of intelligence are 1) subjective, and 2) frequently prejudiced.
No, being surrounded by ignorant people is only a feeling I get, born out of frustration during those times when I don’t get the co-operation I think I should, from people whose co-operation I need. (Usually, it has to do with things like: doctors who don’t listen to what I’m saying or who don’t treat my family members with that same courtesy, contractors who take advantage of my ignorance and do a lousy job, etc.)
I’m sometimes told my own judgment could be suspect in these cases. Or, as Hubby would so aptly put it, “You just get upset when people don’t see things your way.” (aka: too controlling). Leave it to Hubby to tell me the truth. (“Ha!” she answers defiantly.) This was the case last night (and again this morning) when I expressed frustration with the “ignorant” someone who frustrated me.
There’s just enough little girl in me to wish my dad was still here. If Dad was here, he’d know what to do. I’ll never forget when I was in my early twenties and I made some derogatory remarks to my Dad about one of his friends…
My parents were part of a coffee clutch that met at a local restaurant. It was a fairly large group – probably 15 or more people – and several hours every morning the members would drift in and out of the restaurant, sit at a long table, eat breakfast and chat with each other before they had to leave for their jobs.
I was a college student at the time, and sometimes ate breakfast with the clutch before I went to classes, always finding it interesting how diverse my parents friends were.
There was the beautician who owned the beauty shop next door to the restaurant. She’d stop in around 9 a.m., order coffee and dry toast and spread local gossip she’d hear from her customers.
There was the manager of the hardware store… a disgruntled fellow who came (and went) early, since his store was clear across town and traffic could get bad. And the high school teacher, who ran into job trouble when the school district found out he was gay (this was back when “coming out of the closet” wasn’t fashionable).
I remember one fellow who was quite handsome. He had exquisite Greek features, attractively styled hair just barely frosted with gray, and he was always impeccably dressed. He was the owner of a men’s clothing store, my dad bought many of his expensive office suits from that man. Rumor had it that he had a penchant for cheating on his wife.
As for my dad, he was an executive for – now that I look back onto it – probably one of the largest employers in the area. A national corporation whose headquarters were in Stamford, Connecticut.
This coffee clutch was, basically, an interesting representation of the townspeople. They ranged in age from thirties to retired, women and men alike with varied livelihoods, interests, religion, and political opinions. I loved being a part of the clutch whenever my schedule permitted it.
One of the clutch members, however, was someone I really looked down on. His name was Al and he was a retired farmer who lived on the outskirts of town. To fill his time he did odd jobs for friends and family.
At the time, my dad was a controller. (No, that is not a description of his personality… it’s the title of a top managerial financial person, responsible for all the financial/accounting related activities within an organization.) A numbers man.
When our back yard fence needed repair, or the garage door opener jammed up, Dad would try his darndest to fix these things, but mechanic’s was definitely not his forte. His fingers worked fine on a calculator but when it came to home repair, he was all thumbs. Instead, he came to rely on Al.
To look at Al was to look at the stereotype of the typical “backwoods” farmer. He wore denim bib overalls, long-sleeved shirts and dirt encrusted work boots. He drove a small, dented pickup truck. His thinning gray hair always looked like it needed to be trimmed. He had a missing tooth and a rough, grizzled manner.
I thought Al was the most poor, worthless, uneducated man I’d ever met. As I said, I was college age. (We all remember how “smart” we were at that age, right?) I don’t remember exactly what my disparaging remark about Al was, but I do know it included the words “dumb” and “poor”. My dad became very angry.
“Al has more money than any of us up at that restaurant,” he said.
My eyes grew wide in surprise as Dad went on to explain. Turns out that – in exchange for fixing things around our house – Dad did Al’s taxes and helped him with his accounting. Something I hadn’t known. Al had no college degree, but he was a savvy, shrewd business man who, as a result, was very wealthy.
He knew what his area of expertise was and he knew how to capitalize on it. So much for “ignorant”!
After Dad “educated” me, I was more respectful of Al. Money talks, I suppose, but mostly it was because I saw my dad as a smart man, so if Dad thought Al was smart, then he must be, and I had judged prematurely.
So here’s the thing about dealing with “ignorant” people… do we get upset because people disrespect us? Or do they know something we don’t? Certainly you need co-operation (or at the very least, explanation!) when it comes to people you receive services from. Such as doctors. (My source of irritancy was a doctor, of course. I should qualify here that I have a profound distrust of doctors. My paranoia of them is probably deserving of some serious therapy.)
Well, I can’t quite let go of my frustration yet. But I am willing to take a step back and try not to control the situation every time I step into a doctor’s office. To admit that I could be reacting more to how I think the doctor perceives me than I am to why we went there in the first place. After all, it’s at least a possibility he may actually know what he’s talking about (that’s cheeky, isn’t it?).
It’s practically impossible to know what someone else thinks of you, and dangerous to base your reactions on what you think those opinions might be. I have no idea what knowledge or experience that doctor has had that, added to my own experiences, lead to our lack of communication. What kind of a day he had or what his emotional, spiritual, or physical state was at that moment. What I do know is that I doubtless could’ve gotten more co-operation if I’d handled it better. Tried a different approach, instead of just reacting from expectation.
That’s the danger of letting others define us. That’s the danger of defining others.
My dad’s not here to set me straight anymore, so I have to figure these things out without him. But I like to think that God has appointed Dad to keep an eye on me. To help me, by bringing to light memories from our past. I think of my dad as more of a disciplinarian than I do God, so that thought may not be enough to always keep me from reacting first and thinking later… but it is enough to give me pause.
After all, it’s not just a loving, forgiving God watching over me. Dad might be watching too.
I recently read on Yahoo that cable TV was on its way out. It’s days were numbered, being replaced with the option of buying only the channels you wanted to watch and downloading them onto your TV or computer devices. Internet-delivery TV they call it. It sounds complicated to a non-techie like me, but I’m all for learning about ways to cut my 3-digit cable bill. The light at the end of the tunnel. Definitely something to look into.
One thing I can’t wrap my mind around though, is downloading a movie and watching it on your carry devices. Like a cell phone, or even something like an I-Pad. I don’t really understand why the same consumers that buy big-screen TV’s for their living rooms would also watch a movie on a device that’s smaller than a child’s shoe.
But that’s the world of options. And isn’t having options just the grandest thing ever? In the world of options, “little” and “big” are important words.
Life is like that too, don’t you think? We have so many options from the time we’re born to the time we die. Big options that affect every other moment of our lives, and those options that have little impact.
Do we live life safe, in a little box? Or take a bigger, riskier step, and put ourselves out there? One isn’t necessarily better than the other, it depends on the situation and what you need, or what you want. It’s those options again.
I remember when I was planning a trip for my family to go see Niagara Falls. Hubby (who is far more well-traveled than I) had seen Niagara Falls before, and told me not to expect too much, because the Falls were “just okay”, but that if I wanted to see something really spectacular, I needed to go out west and see the Grand Canyon. Compared to the Canyon, he said, the Falls were just mediocre. His insistence, of course, had the opposite effect and I could muster no desire at all to see the Grand Canyon.
Then when I saw Niagara Falls, I thought What is he talking about? These are incredible!
They were. Unbelievably gorgeous. And BIG! Maybe it’s because of my low travel quotient and lack of experiences, but I was terribly impressed. Which got me to thinking… if he thinks this is “just okay”, then what must the Grand Canyon be like?
So now we’re planning a trip out west for next year. To see some REALLY BIG things, like the Grand Canyon. And the redwood trees. Plus, something I’ve dreamed about seeing for some time now. Something that was once available for all of mankind to see, and now is seen by only a small percentage. Something that I can remember seeing when I was little, but haven’t seen in a long time. Something that it’s estimated eight out of every ten people born today – 80%! – will never be able to see.
A truly dark, starry night sky.
In the definition of “BIG”, NOTHING is bigger than seeing the Milky Way and thousands and thousands of stars. Are you old enough to remember how the night sky was so immense and lit with stars, from horizon to horizon, that to gaze at it gave you vertigo, and you had to close your eyes from feeling you were falling off the earth?
Thanks to artificial lighting and population growth, there are very few places left in the United States to look up and see the Milky Way. We are not alone in this, the rest of the world is in the same shape we are, and those places where there is still natural darkness will soon be full of light.
Luckily, this is another one of those options we’re always given. It’s easily within our power to change back to being able to see the night sky, before the generation that remembers it is gone, and the remaining generations don’t even realize there’s anything to miss. A gift we could give our ancestors.
And all we have to do is turn off the lights.
Article’s about last night’s total “blood moon” lunar eclipse (where the red part of light is cast onto the moon’s surface) evoked all kinds of comments about science versus religion. “Light”, of course, being a BIG word in both circles. I got to wondering, how many times does the word light appear in the bible? So I looked it up.
Using the bible and an online Christian reference*, here are the results:
Light appears 272 times. This includes both the Old and New Testament, but does not include variations of light (Lighted, Lighting, Daylight, etc.)
To gain a comparison of its usage and importance, I looked up these other words (again, this does not include variations):
Faith appears 247 times.
Wisdom – 234 times.
Grace – 170 times.
Joy – 165 times.
Salvation – 164 times.
Believe – 143 times.
Forgive – 56 times.
Redemption – 20 times.
Obviously, light is an important word in biblical circles.
Some of these words (specifically: salvation and redemption) were not listed on the Christian reference site I used and I needed to combine information from various avenues. I suspect that may be because of translation issues.
Light, however, was on every resource I viewed. No doubt someone could dispute me on this, it was hardly exhaustive research. Nonetheless, there is no disputing the importance of light in the bible, and given our nature of always looking for answers, is it any wonder we’re all fascinated with it?
Light was right up there, comparable or only slightly under some heavy hitting words. Like:
Pray (313 times), Love (310 times), Covenant (292 times).
The really Big Words? The one’s that were literally off the charts in distance from all the rest? No surprise there:
Jesus – 983 times, (all in the New Testament).
God – 4,444 times.
Lord – 7,946 times.
Much of the time, when the word light appears in the bible, it is referring to God’s light inside of us. As in:
- In Him was life; and the life was the light of men.
- … arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.
- The spirit of man [is] the candle of the LORD.
- …thy whole body also is full of light.
- … for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb [is] the light thereof.
- For God… hath shined in our hearts, to [give] the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.
- Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.
- He knoweth what [is] in the darkness, and the light dwelleth with Him.
It’s not hard to think that perhaps light is an integral part of God’s nature, and perhaps even is One with the Holy Spirit, as well as part of our own nature and the natural laws of the universe.
For the record, the words:
Holy Spirit appears 7 times (3 times in the Old Testament and 4 times in the New Testament).
Holy Ghost appears 89 times, in the New Testament only.
Might it be that a quest to understand light could really just be the Holy Spirit within, driving us ever closer to understanding the nature of God?
Then again: how did we get here; do we have a purpose; where are we going… isn’t this also a quest that we’re all on? Whether we consciously state it in those terms, doesn’t everyone ponder the Big questions in life?
And given how physically we respond to light, and that every cell in our body has light receptors (see: Clocking The Light), could it be that both scientist and theologian are just using different protocols to study the same thing?
Note: Translating the biblical manuscripts is difficult. Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic usage differs from English in grammar and structure, so there is no definitive translation. Also, the number of times the word light (and its derivatives) appear in the bible depends on which bible version you are using. For the sake of this article, I used the King James (KJV) version. The KJV was translated by the combined efforts of approximately 50 scholars and all scripture quotes are in the public domain.
* Noncommercial Educational or Religious Publications
Except for Bible quotes and images, the materials posted at The Christian Bible Reference Site may be quoted or reproduced in any form (written, visual, electronic or audio, including translations into other languages), without further permission, for noncommercial educational or religious purposes (examples: home, church, school, Sunday school, CCD, or Bible study classes.) “Noncommercial” means the publication is distributed free and contains no paid advertising.
This notice of copyright must appear adjacent to the quote or image , or in a footnote, or on the title or copyright page of the publication: “Copyright © by Cliff Leitch, The Christian Bible Reference Site, http://www.ChristianBibleReference.org. Used by permission.
(Re: usage of light in the Bible.)
Hubby and I just celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary together. We celebrated by painting the kitchen window and front door (one of those shades of white).
As of this post, it’s already been two days since our anniversary, which means I can no longer remember whether we even went out to dinner or anything. We may have had Taco Bell.
Friends and family wished us a happy anniversary on FB, and we were tagged in one of our wedding photos which showed up online. (That’s me in my Kelly green wedding dress.)
All in all, it was more fanfare than I usually think to give to our anniversary.
It’s not that I’m not happy with Hubby. I am. Very. I think we have true love.
People tell me I’m lucky to have a husband like him and I think they’re right. He is, after all: handsome, friendly, kind, forgiving, and lenient. That may seem like a strange list of attributes for the perfect husband, but personally I think that’s the right kind of man to have. (If you had to live with me you’d probably tack on a few more of those “lenient”.)
And then there are those poppy-blue colored eyes….. sigh. But when it comes to romance, we are complete opposites.
I can only take so much of all that mush. Hubby, on the other hand, is over the top.
I’m glad I have a husband who remembers every anniversary, birthday, first date, etc. I’ve heard plenty of stories from women who would give anything to have a man who brings them flowers regularly, wants to hold their hand wherever they go, tells them they’re beautiful when they’re wearing paint splattered clothes or haven’t brushed their teeth yet. (Hubby does all of those things.) But a little goes a long way for me.
I try to think more romantically for him. It ain’t easy.
Like, once, we were in the bookstore and I saw him reading a book about putting more romance in your life (as if!). A few days later I was drinking an iced tea when something caught in my throat. I started choking, and up came a little piece of paper.
“What the hell is this?” I said.
“Read it,” he replied.
So I did. I don’t remember what it said, but the gist was that Hubby had frozen little love notes in the ice cube tray. Something he’d read in that fool book. He had that tender look of love in his eyes and expectant smile on his lips. I think I was supposed to tell him how romantic that was. Instead I belted out – “You could’ve killed me!” – then spent the next half hour apologizing and trying to sooth his hurt feelings.
There was the Easter season that Hubby hid a dozen long-stemmed carnations for me to find. Instead of an Easter egg hunt, it was a flower hunt. (Okay. I have to confess. I kind of liked that one.) Still, I would’ve been just as happy with one green egg.
Luckily, I have to say, that after 22 years he’s gotten used to me. So on our anniversary I was getting the supplies together for us to paint. I was annoyed because he was procrastinating, wanting to spend a few minutes time going down memory lane and talking about our wedding.
“You know,” he said. “I’m so glad we got married. I’m totally happy with you.”
“Well, whoop-de-do,” I replied. “Let’s get this window done.”
He laughed and we got down to work. Later, when we were sitting at the table surveying our handiwork, my earlier response seemed funny to me too and I thought about writing this post.
I knew Hubby never signed on to our computer. I don’t think he knows how. He doesn’t read my blog. He doesn’t have a FB account. He doesn’t text. Computers aren’t really a big part of his life. As far as his days are concerned, what happens online isn’t part of the real world.
Still, our family and friends ARE online. They can see what I write about him. I wondered if I was being fair to him, or doing something he’d rather I didn’t do. If that was the case, I’d respect his wishes. So I asked him.
“Now that I write that blog I find I put a lot of our conversations into my posts,” I said. “You’ve become one of my favorite subject matters.”
“Uh-huh.” He stood to go into the other room.
“How do you feel about that?” I asked.
“Whoop-de-do,” he answered, as he disappeared from view.
Ah… true love.