Wedded Bliss

I'm still wavering in the blogging business.  I started with this blog was "discovered" by Vibrant Nation, but then found it difficult to write for both.  I was copying some of my blogs from this post to Vibrant Nation and vice-versa, but if people are reading both I feel there should be different blogs on each site.

Dave Barry and Erma Bombeck have always been my guiding light as I want to be humorous, but I don't always feel funny every day.  Also, I've been trying to write my blogs more like syndicated columns, which isn't really the idea of a blog.  So for now I'm going to write this blog as more random thoughts and keep the column-style type of posts on Vibrant Nation.

So what can I chat about today?  This past weekend was my twenty-seventh wedding anniversary.  My husband and I went out for dinner on Friday and then Saturday went to a craft fair and later that evening to a movie.  We get a popcorn to share.  Now here's my first dilemma.  He eats very fast.  I want to save the popcorn to enjoy during the course of the movie, but he could polish off that bag before the previews are finished and I want to be sure to get my fair share.  Isn't that sad?  Twenty seven years of marriage and I'm still worried about my fair share.  He has always made sure I have everything I need.  In fact, he generally stops eating after a while and gives me the bag to finish.  So why do I still have this keeping even mentality?

Secondly, as he's holding the popcorn with his left hand, his right hand is on my knee.  Isn't that sweet?  Not.  All I can concentrate on is the fact that he's also eating with his right hand.  And he put extra butter on the popcorn and then he put his hand back on my knee.  I'm going to have to wash that butter out of my pants.  I've been worried about the romance going out of our marriage, but I think I'm the one with issues.

What to talk about is another issue.  Does anyone else have trouble talking with their spouse?  He doesn't want to talk about religion, or politics, or the news.  We don't want to discuss our jobs.  We don't have kids.  Luckily we have a dog that we sort of talk through.  I think she's like a ventriloquist's dummy where we can channel our thoughts out loud through her.  We've discussed everything about each other over the course of thirty years of knowing each other, so what's left?

I do the like the comfort level of not having to be my best 24/7, but I think I need to at least go by some new jammies.  Especially with winter coming up.  I generally have a sweat shirt from one outfit with the bottom half of a pair of flannel pajamas and generally a sexy type of thick pair of socks which ties the whole ensemble together.  With all of these reality shows, perhaps they need a new show that has a makeover for housewives and husbands.  They pull these two poor schmucks out of the crowd as they walk along.  The wife is wearing clothes as least ten seasons old, the husband is picking some sort of food from his teeth and then they whisk both away separately to give them a makeover and a romantic evening out.  Wouldn't that be wonderful to see what we could possibly look like if we gave it half a try?

Well, that's it for tonight in the wonderful world of wedded bliss.

Marriage Game Plan

Day one of marriage - you start with all your worldly belongings.  For me, that would be my clothes, a twin bed, a dresser and a yellow, vinyl bean bag chair.  In the olden days, that wouldn't even translate into one goat.  Luckily, he checked my teeth and they were good.

Duties - you share everything.  The grocery shopping, the cleaning, the laundry.  "What do you want to buy for dinner, darling?"  "Whatever you want, sweetie."  Life was grand.  Eventually you split chores.  It's really a matter of saving time.  This way, you have more quality time during those few hours each night after work. 

Then came the house.  Houses are good investments; they are great to come home to; they are the black hole of time, energy and money.  Now duties were divided out of necessity.  We didn't care who did what, but obviously one person couldn't do it all.  I was a fortunate wife in that my husband was a whiz at doing anything and everything.  Cooking?  No problem, he was like Chef Gordon Ramsey.  Yardwork?  Piece of cake.  Finish the basement?  Who needs to hire out when you're married to Bob Vila?

He, on the other hand, did not marry Martha Stewart.  Hem pants?  Hello, there's the tailor.  Prepare a gourmet dinner?  You mean fish sticks and canned peaches aren't considered fine dining?  Ironing was, and still is, my nemesis.  I knew I was in trouble at the beginning when he wanted his socks ironed.  "Your socks ironed? Are you kidding me?"  The first half is hidden under your trousers, part is hidden in the shoe, the rest is about a one inch strip around your ankle so if there any wrinkles, they're stretched like Joan Rivers facelift so wrinkles won't show.  Yeah, the honeymoon was over.

You learn each other's moods, facial expressions, eye tics and throbbing veins on the side of the neck.  These are vital clues to know when to spring the news about how the dog chewed the carpet, that new outfit you bought, your mother is coming for the weekend.

Oh, life can get a little too routine sometimes, but it's sad to see so many throw in the towel before they review the game book.  Eventually, when everyone finds their position on the team and learns the moves, that winning goal is worth the effort.