Posts Tagged ‘marriage’

Before I met my husband (and for many years thereafter), I was a city girl. I was born in they city. I grew up in several cities (serial city-monogamy, if you will) since we moved quite a bit in my formative years. As such, I grew up hearing mostly city noises: cars honking, people yelling at each other at all hours, sirens blaring from emergency vehicles…yep, those emergency medical workers, those were my peeps. When I got older, I went to college in the city, as was proper. I stayed with what was familiar, with what I knew.

It was my comfort zone and I was sticking to it.

My husband grew up in one city, but because it was on the border of a town, it was more bucolic in setting than the cities that I inhabited in my youth and young adulthood. As such, my husband grew up hearing more countrified-type noises: birdsong, crickets, frogs croaking and the like.

I was used to my outdoor noises. He was used to his, much like I used to listen to disco music and he liked alternative rock…we made peace with it, in a never-the-twain-shall-meet sort of way.

One (very early) morning not long after we married, I was driven to put the pillow over my head to cover my ears. No, my husband wasn’t snoring. It was those damn birds! Chirping their stupid heads off! Waking me up at dawn when I (inherently a night person at that time in my life) had barely been asleep for 4 hours!

Him: “Why is the pillow over your head?”

Me: “Because those stupid birds are chirping so loudly that they woke me up and I can’t get back to sleep!”

Him: {Silence}

Years later (read: yesterday) he told me that he seriously wondered if he had chosen the right life partner (and further wondered if I was deranged) because I’d made that statement.

Good thing I hadn’t told him about how I was envisioning shooting each one of them in their little heads after each chirp.

Desperate times.


I hate to exercise but I walk as often as I can and call it that. To take the edge off, I walk at the ocean when possible. To make myself feel even happier when I’m out walking, I often will slow down to look for sand dollars, unusual shells, sea glass, and rocks, especially heart-shaped rocks.

One day I had especially good luck. I found about a half-dozen rocks, all different sizes, and all were pretty well-defined  heart shapes.  I stuffed each one into my pockets as I found them as I walked my usual route to the jetty and back.

When I got home, I emptied the contents of my pockets out onto the kitchen island. They were even nice than I thought! I was pretty excited about what I’d found, so I called my husband over to see.

Me: “Look what I found at the beach!”

Him: “What?”

Me: “Heart rocks!”

Him: Silence

Me: “Aren’t they great?”

Him: Silence

Him (finally): “What are they?”

Me (picking one up and holding it closer so that he could see it better): “It’s heart-shaped rock! Are you kidding me? Can’t you tell?”

Him: “That looks like a pancreas.”


Posted: April 12, 2012 in Occasions
Tags: , , , , , ,

My husband works every weekend, so that means he also works every holiday that happens to fall on a weekend. I actually can’t remember the last time he had an Easter Sunday off.
I felt bad that he had to miss the holiday with us. We were celebrating with his family, having Easter dinner with my in-laws at my sister-in-law’s home.

He missed out on the preparation of the Easter Basket goodies for the kids. He didn’t get to participate in or watch the annual Easter Egg Hunt.  I felt especially bad that he was missing out on the food. We had a traditional dinner of turkey, ham, mashed white and sweet potatoes, corn…and stuffed shells, and sausages and meatballs in gravy…hey, we’re Italian, what can I say? Also the cookies, brownies, fudge, cakes, pies…well, you get the idea.

I decided to make up a plate for him, so when he got home from work he’d have a little of the holiday waiting for him to cheer him up. I called him that afternoon to tell him.

Me: “Hi honey. We’re missing you today! I made you up a plate for when you get home. Happy Easter!”

Him: “It’s Easter?”

A recently retired husband puttering around the house is a good thing, right?  It’s true that the aggravating errands for which I am responsible have been cut in half, but I envisioned that all the aggravating chores might be cut in half, given that I’ve been burdened with both the lion’s and lioness’ share of household upkeep for many years.

Silly me, I fantasized gliding across the wood floors in my house without the disgusting grit and crunch that comes four or five days post-vacuum, after we’ve walked around, our pets have shed, and the groceries and other junk have been dragged in from the alternately dusty or muddy outside.  The detritus build-up becomes intolerable by day seven post-vacuum.  Ideally the vacuum fairies would come daily, but reasonably I figured that we could move from a once-a-week vacuum up to a twice-a-week vacuum up, because there were two potential vacuumers at home now.

When my husband asked what chores he might do on a rainy day, I suggested ‘Well, you could vacuum.’

To which he replied ‘Oh, I don’t want to take that away from you!  I know you love vacuuming.’


He thinks I like (worse—love!) vacuuming?

How could I love dragging a canister around, emptying the crap, listening to the noise, catching the cord, unplugging the cord, moving the furniture out, moving it back, hauling the beast up the stairs?  Do I like (no—love!) knowing that the hour I’m burning is really wasted time—it’s not like once you do it then you don’t have to do it again.  The second you stop someone starts dropping pieces of crap all over the place.

Seriously?  I like vacuuming?  He doesn’t get it.

What I like (love, even) isn’t vacuuming. It’s when it’s done and it’s vacuum-ed.

Huge difference.

This week’s guest blogger is Sheila. Thank you so much for your post!!!!

My husband is always challenged by the fact that my birthday and Mother’s Day fall in the same month. In one way it’s good: he gets them both over with and doesn’t have to think about it for another year. In another way, it’s bad: he has to come up with not one but two gifts in the space of two weeks! The pressure!

He came up with a unique solution one year. He knew that I loved Dr. Scholl’s sandals and had been thinking of getting a new pair. He even knew my shoe size. I had been coveting a red pair but hadn’t bought them; they were pretty expensive.

He decided to surprise me with them for Mother’s Day. When he gave me the present and I opened the box, I was very surprised, and very happy! I really, really wanted these. I was confused though, when I only found one sandal in the box. After a moment, I said, “I love them! Thank you! But where’s the other sandal?”

Wait for it….

He was giving me one for Mother’s Day, and the other one for my birthday.

He made me wait, too.

On their wedding night, the young bride approached her new husband and asked for $20.00 for their first lovemaking encounter. In his highly aroused state, her husband readily agreed.

This scenario was repeated each time they made love, for more than 40 years, with him thinking that it was a cute way for her to afford new clothes and other incidentals that she needed.

Arriving home around noon one day, she was surprised to find her husband in a very drunken state.
During the next few minutes, he explained that his employer was going through a process of corporate downsizing, and he had been let go. It was unlikely that, at the age of 59, he’d be able to find another position that paid anywhere near what he’d been earning, and therefore, they were financially ruined.

Calmly, his wife handed him a bank book which showed more than forty years of steady deposits and interest totaling nearly $1 million. Then she showed him certificates of deposits issued by the bank which were worth over $2 million, and informed him that they were one of the largest depositors in the bank.

She explained that for more than three decades she had ‘charged him for sex, these holdings had multiplied and these were the results of her savings and investments.

Faced with evidence of cash and investments worth over $3 million, her husband was so astounded he could barely speak, but finally he found his voice and blurted out,
‘If I’d had any idea what you were doing,
I would have given you all my business!’

That’s when she shot him.

You know, sometimes, men just don’t know when
To keep their mouths shut.

My husband and I had gone out to eat for breakfast and I sat across from him watching him read the paper.

Not talking with me.

I just sat and ate.

I was stewing about his jacket. He has this tan jacket that he wears ALL THE TIME. It has seen better days and the tan has turned to black around the middle and on the cuffs. I hate this jacket. It belongs in the garbage. I feel it is way too dirty to ever be worn to town, let alone in my company. He wears it happily to his parents’, to work, and to church.

Oh, how embarrassed I am by this!

I finally cannot stand it anymore and say to him, “Let’s get you a new jacket.” His simple response is,  “Why? I have a new one at home.”

I thought I was going to explode. He had a new one at home and I have been going to town with him wearing this dirty one. I blurt out, ” Why aren’t you wearing it? ” He says, “If I wear it, it will get dirty. I don’t want it to get dirty.”

The new one is still hanging in the closet and has a nice layer of dust on it.