While gardening the other day, I noticed that every time I pulled a weed from my rose garden, a patch of dirt would jump.
The answer, of course, was that a mole had set up camp amongst my Tamora and Heritage roses, and I was making too much noise in its hallways. I was interested in getting a glimpse of the little rodent, so I moved in closer. All of the sudden, I remembered that this was how the lone woman in horror movies ended up dead. She’d investigate, only to be pulled underground by the tentacle of some other-worldly creature that came to earth to hunt humans.
So, I backed away.
When I related this tale to a friend, she asked me if I stabbed the mole with a pitchfork. That’s when it hit me – why was my first instinct to investigate and my second to run for fear of alien moles? Eliminating the little aerator might be practical, but for me, I guess the movie fan part of me took over.
ET Moles Amongst the Roses – sounds like a movie to me.
Married 25 Years Today and Happy About It
It doesn’t seem like Chuck and I have been married 25 years. He even mentioned today that time must have sped up or some time warp developed, because there’s no way we’ve been married this long.
Time has flown by and marriage has been a lot easier than we ever imagined. Having said that, there is a thing or two we’ve learned that worked for us.
This isn’t advice, but it helps if you believe in it. We do.
When Chuck and I walked down the aisle a quarter of a century ago, we were both a little nervous. I’d read all those magazine articles about how to have a successful relationship, and it all sounded really hard. You had to think about every little thing you said and did. I’m not sure what Chuck was worried about, but he admitted shortly after we were married that he was relieved he still had some “alone” time to himself.
Time has flown by and marriage has been a lot easier than we ever imagined. Having said that, there is a thing or two we’ve learned that worked for us.Great Grandma Was Right
My mom told me that her grandmother told her that when you met the right guy, you’ll know. After many years of dating and finding great guys, but not the right guy, I was concerned that I was too stupid to know a good thing when I saw it. Sure enough, it didn’t take long before I realized Chuck was the one; it was the day I realized I couldn’t imagine him not being in my life.
Great Grandmother Dema also said that you should “season a guy.” This is good advice, too. You need to know someone at least a year and see him in all types of situations before deciding to spend your life with that person.
Let Go of Preconceptions
I thought I knew how married life was supposed to be, but it turns out that the definition of how to act in a marriage depends on the folks involved. For instance, I thought as a loving wife I would need to cook dinner every night. Turns out I dislike cooking every night and Chuck loves it. Lucky me!
Be Thankful
When it comes right down to it, no one really has to do anything. A spouse can become a couch potato and not lift a finger and you’re stuck with the situation, unless you opt for divorce. So, when my husband cooks, takes out the trash, etc., I say thank you and he says the same to me. Doing things around the house for the other person is a sign of respect and love; certainly that deserves politeness!
Pollyanna Was on to Something
The author of the book, “Pollyanna” was given a hard time, because the main character was always looking on the bright side. I highly recommend it in a marriage. Focus on the good in your spouse and maybe they’ll focus on the good on you. Leaves room for not being perfect – and having the option of not being perfect is really important.
Be Lucky
Here’s to 25 more years with Chuck and 25 more after that.
Debating the Merits of “I Love You” Over “Oh #!”
As I endeavor to teach my son to drive a car, I’m reminded of that fact that my first two years of driving were intense. Every time I thought I was going to have a car accident, I’d let out a string of expletives.
It quickly became apparent to me that I did not want my last words on earth to be the type that would have made the devil blush. I decided that a much nicer response would be “I love you.” It would be my way of telling my passenger in the car, myself or God that I thought fondly of them.
Once when my mother and I were passengers in my Grandmother Roberta’s car, she pulled out in front of a fast approaching car. I thought we were going to be broad sided and let out a loud “Oh #!” The other car managed to stop in time and my grandmother was oblivious. When my grandmother got out of the car, I leaned over and made my apology to my mom for cussing.
“That’s OK,” she said. “I thought we were going to die, too.”
Even though she understood, a nice “I love you” would have been the better choice.
I rarely find the mood to scream out while driving because my maneuvering skills have improved. Still, I worry that I might someday say that to someone I would never say that to, like a male coworker or longtime male friend.
“I love you! Wait, I didn’t mean that. I thought we were going to die. And not that I don’t like you, although not in the case of “like” like, but I often say that instead of #$**## which isn’t nice for a person to say, so, and I never want my son talking that way, so what I’m really trying to say….”
Geesh. In that case, a simple “Oh #!” and slam of the brakes would need no explanation.
It quickly became apparent to me that I did not want my last words on earth to be the type that would have made the devil blush. I decided that a much nicer response would be “I love you.” It would be my way of telling my passenger in the car, myself or God that I thought fondly of them.
Once when my mother and I were passengers in my Grandmother Roberta’s car, she pulled out in front of a fast approaching car. I thought we were going to be broad sided and let out a loud “Oh #!” The other car managed to stop in time and my grandmother was oblivious. When my grandmother got out of the car, I leaned over and made my apology to my mom for cussing.
“That’s OK,” she said. “I thought we were going to die, too.”
Even though she understood, a nice “I love you” would have been the better choice.
I rarely find the mood to scream out while driving because my maneuvering skills have improved. Still, I worry that I might someday say that to someone I would never say that to, like a male coworker or longtime male friend.
“I love you! Wait, I didn’t mean that. I thought we were going to die. And not that I don’t like you, although not in the case of “like” like, but I often say that instead of #$**## which isn’t nice for a person to say, so, and I never want my son talking that way, so what I’m really trying to say….”
Geesh. In that case, a simple “Oh #!” and slam of the brakes would need no explanation.
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