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Freezing at Five
My husband and I were recently invited to a friend’s house for a picnic and decided to go at the last minute. I hadn’t thought about what food I was going to take, and I’m not known for keeping it simple. I decided on a dessert that needed ice cream. Sounds fine until I tell you that our friends live 30 miles away, and it was a 98-degree day. Not the best choice? True that. Bobby drove our Challenger SRT, his pride and joy. I asked him to stop at a grocery store closer to our destination for the ice cream. Bobby assured me that he could make Hulkster “a…
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Flying Underwear: A Lesson in Respect
In 36 years of marriage, I can count on one hand the number of fights my husband and I have had. Yet, two of those were sparked by my attempts to organize him. Early in our marriage, the clutter of papers scattered around our small living spaces began to irk me. I’m not Mrs. Fastidious, but the mess bugged me. Bobby, my husband, didn’t have an office back then and often worked from a corner of our living room. We disagreed over the value of form versus function—he saw empty flat surfaces as storage spaces, while I envisioned them adorned sparingly with pretty decor. To give you a bit more…
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Sustain a Marriage With Forgiveness
I read an article recently called “Why We Need Moments of Mad Thinking.” In it, the author contends, “We banish a great many thoughts from our minds on the grounds that they are, as we put it, ‘mad’. Some of them evidently are: too mean, flawed, absurd or petty to deserve further exploration. But it’s one of the tragedies of our thinking lives that, amidst the detritus of dismissed thoughts, there are invariably a great many that could have been of high value, if only we had dared to examine them further, if only we hadn’t been so scared of their less conventional and more speculative dimensions, if only we…
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How To Show Appreciation To the Love of Your Life
Growing up, my family had the best tradition at Thanksgiving. Gathered around the table, we would each take our turn and share what we were most thankful for that year. My brother was always funny, as he’d take the opportunity to poke fun at everyone for things that happened throughout the year. But then, right at the end, he’d hit us with the sentimental zinger that always made me and Mom cry. Dad and Mom always said they were thankful for the same thing every year: Family. I don’t remember what I said, but I recall how those words of appreciation reminded us that were weren’t just four people existing…
