Wait, You Think I Actually Want to Drive This Thing?

For a couple of years now Devoted Spouse has been driving this ultra cool little fire engine red fast Mazda Miata convertible – it was his mid-life crisis thing.  I was real glad he brought home a red car…not a younger redhead if ya get my meaning.

Tonight I wanted to try a new rib joint in town and as we walked out to the garage I said, “Sweetie, let’s take your car.”  That really surprised him.  My back has been acting wonky lately and I think he was a little concerned with me trying to get myself down into that little sardine can and then get back up and out of it again.  I just wanted to do something different.

Into the Miata I got and off we drove.  We had a good meal and a fun time and then it was again time for me to get into a car that pretty much is about the size of Barbie’s dreamcar and strap myself in with my knees up in my nose and no place for my purse, let alone the box of left-over ribs. (note to self: crap, get ribs out of car.)

On the way home I was reminiscing about how when we were first married 26 years ago, he had this old Datsun that was a stick shift and he tried so hard to teach me how to drive it.  I remember driving around the parking lot of the local shopping mall on an early Sunday morning coz there were no cars there and I could actually go fast enough to shift into a few gears.  I wasn’t very good at it.  In fact it was a total disaster.  The phrase stripped gears comes to mind.  He took me out on the open road and it was a classic scene of the parent teaching the teenager to drive…’No, let out the clutch easy…No, don’t ride the clutch…No, you’re in the wrong gear.”  “Use the emergency brake!”  Jeez Louize.  Driving a stick shift was a pain in the you-know-what.  The Datsun was parked in our suburb one day (we used to park and then take a bus into the Pentagon in those days) and I got sick at work.  I got a bus out to the suburbs but had to drive the Datsun about two miles to our townhouse — I think I drove in 1st gear the whole way.  It was just a matter of days until Devoted Spouse sold the Datsun and we bought “the family car.”

Anyway…back to the present time…tonight we’re flying down our country roads and I notice he has six gears and I’m watching him work all of this stuff and I start asking questions.  When do you put the clutch in?  If a deer runs across the road now do you have to put the clutch in as you slam your foot on the brake?  Does the clutch have to go in all the way and do you have to downshift before or after you run over the deer?  Why are you in 6th gear when you’re only doing 40 miles an hour?  I had so many questions.

I reminded him of how when he was teaching me to use the stick shift and we were on a hill at a stoplight, I would ride the clutch and he would get so mad at me.  But if I didn’t ride the clutch, either the car would drift backward, or the engine would stall when I tried to get it into 1st gear again.  Gah…  It was a major no-no – “Don’t ride the clutch.”

So, this evening as we’re on this country road I start talking about how to keep it from rolling down the hill and he STOPS THE CAR and starts going through this rigamarole of showing me how to clutch and then  you pull up on the emergency brake thingie and it’s the emergency brake thingie that keeps you from rolling down the hill.  Then you ease the emergency brake down and let out the clutch a little I think and let your foot off the regular brake, and probably pee a little, and Oh For The Love of Mike WTH is he goin on about? I just asked a question; I didn’t expect a demonstration.  I’m listening and thinking in my head La La La La and we’re TOTALLY STOPPED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FREAKIN’ ROAD IN THE DARK OF NIGHT.  He thinks I understand what he’s showing me.   Now I ask you if I’m driving this 6-speed monster and I’m stopped at a light on a hill and I have to have the emergency brake on in order to keep the car from drifting backwards and then the light changes and I slowly lift up on the brake while trying to remember to put the clutch in and also the accelerator and put the gear shift into 1st gear, HOW THE BLOODY HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO CHANGE THE CD I’M LISTENING TO?   Exhausting.   Crap on toast.  (Why is it when you ask a man a question he either has to draw something or actually show you how to do it — just tell me.)  He actually thought I wanted to LEARN to drive this thing.  Snort.

So that was my first ride in his car for 2010 and will be the last one for awhile.  Just watching him go through all the motions wears me out.  Ya might know an automatic transmission kinda gal would end up with a raving stick shift kinda guy.  sigh…

That Blank Look On My Face Does Indeed Have a Meaning, Dear

I’ve discussed communications in a marriage before.  I have another example I want to share with ya’ll.  This won”t take long but it’s a good thing to know.

Devoted Spouse now has another volunteer job at our church — one afternoon a week he goes to one of our branch churches and hangs out around the computer lab in case someone using a computer has a problem.  He does this for about 3 hours at a time – usually from around 3pm to 6pm.

Coincidentally on the same day he has this volunteer position I attend a class at church which starts at 7 pm meaning I leave my house around 6:40 or so.  So sometimes I see him come in as I am leaving and sometimes we miss each other.

This evening he walks into the house earlier than usual — in fact I was scarfing down a really bad chicken pot pie as he arrived.  He said and I quote:  “Reinforcement arrived early.”

I looked at him with the thousand-yard stare and said (using my ultra large vocabulary), “Huh?”

He repeated…”Reinforcement arrived early.”

One more time, I stared at him as my eyes glazed over and said, “What?”

I truly had no flippin’ idea what his statement meant.  Really.  What was being reinforced and why was it here early?

I finally in total frustration probably raised my voice just a tad and said something to the effect of , “What the crap are you talking about?”  What reinforcement — is the Cavalry here?”  WTH?

What he meant was that someone at the church had arrived to take his place at the next shift so he could come home early.  Well why in the blue blazes didn’t he just say that?  Because he thought I would understand his shortened version.

I didn’t.  I walked away in total frustration thinking that, yes, I had gone over the edge because I couldn’t understand a simple statement made by Devoted Spouse.

Later I simply requested of him…”The next time you say something to me and I give you the thousand-yard stare, for the love of Gawd, don’t keep repeating what you already said.  Find another way to express yourself so I understand what you are trying so hard to tell me.”

Discussion over.  Communication failure solved.

Sometimes it’s the simple stuff that is the hardest.

Marriage and the Art of Communication Part 2

Gen and Mrs. George B. McClellan from Library of Congress

Maybe it’s holiday stress, or maybe it was just a matter of me being in the right place at the right time to witness communication in progress.

Devoted Spouse and I went out to run some errands and as we came to a stop light there was a van ahead of us.  Pulling up behind the van I noticed a woman driving and a man in the passenger seat.  What really got both our attention was these people were MAD – the man was flailing his arms and he was making a fist and it was directed at the woman in the driver’s seat.  She, in turn, was obviously yelling by the way she was moving – and then she would put her hand out and touch the man as if to calm him down.  It didn’t work – he became angrier and I got to thinking it was a good thing he had a set belt on else he might have become airborne.

I found this episode morbidly fascinating, albeit a bit frightening.  I wondered what on earth had happened to make them so angry that this man was becoming violent.  I wondered if the lady was going to be able to make the left hand turn or was I doomed to sit behind them as they paid attention to their fight and not to the road.

She turned and I followed — not too closely mind you.  The van made a right hand turn at the same street we were headed – luckily as we turned into the bank, she went straight.  I wondered most of the day what happened to this couple.  Nothing was on the evening news about any domestic violence calls in our community and there were no reports of murder.  I was thankful.  But still I wondered what on earth had gotten them to that point.

I found an article on relationships authored by relationship coaches (who also happened to be married) entitled The Reasons Couples Fight and it listed 5 reasons and how to overcome them.  I thought I would share this valuable information with you — and perhaps comment just a bit on each one as they relate to my own successful relationship with Devoted Spouse.  Call this, my advice Christmas gift to you on relationships – and yes, I’m qualified on the basis of  being happily married for over 26 years now.

So…Reasons Couples Fight

1.  Old Fears Surface

Well, this can be true.  The relationship coaches mention former broken hearts and how that can impact your current relationship.  What came to mind for me as an old fear was spiders.  One of the reasons my marriage works is I am afraid of spiders and demand that Devoted Spouse routinely kill them and then flush them down the toilet.  Again, the marriage is successful because he does just that with any spiders I happen to come across.  Be proactive about old fears.

2.  Not Feeling Loved, Valued, Understood and Appreciated

Taking your spouse for granted can be a real marriage killer.  Luckily for me I laid down the rules from the beginning; I was to be treated like the princess I am and Devoted Spouse readily agreed.  He lives up to all my expectations by valuing me and appreciating me on a regular basis.  He also takes care of me when I am sick or injured (remember the Ice Incident of 2009?) and he delivers my coffee daily along with the paper.  Oh, I feel loved.  I take care of him, too.  I buy him his favorite things to eat even though they would make a maggot gag — things like Vienna Sausages.  Now there’s no reason on God’s green earth to have Vienna Sausages in your house, except that Devoted Spouse likes them and I want him to be happy.  I value him and appreciate him; hence the Vienna Sausages.  *shivers in disgust*  Am I understood?  Oh hell no – but that’s another post.  Is he understood?  See prior answer.  *giggles*

3.  Not Making Their Relationship a Priority

This one reminded me of the Bud Light commercial about the couple sitting at an outside cafe and the young woman asks a series of oh-so-stupid questions making her partner choose between her and something or someone else.  When she gets to his Bud Light or her, he hesitates and she leaves.  Well, duh, what did you think would happen when you asked your partner to choose between his beer and you?  Stupid girl.  I would never ask Devoted Spouse to choose between me and something or someone else.  He knows better.  He would always choose me – it was in the “pre-marriage Princess talk” discussed earlier.  I’m first.  Deal with it.  Same goes for him.  I choose him over everything.  Except….nope, that’s another posting.

4.  One or Both People are Made to Feel They are Wrong

Well, crap on a crutch, this is easy.  They are.  And don’t blame me because statistically it’s the man.  The trick to a good relationship is for the man to know from the very beginning that he is always going to be the wrong one; admit it, and press on.  He can think whatever he wants, but outloud he’d best be saying “You’re right, honey, what was I thinking?”

5.  Not Healing Your Heart After a Previous Relationship

I think what these relationship coaches are advocating is not to get into a rebound relationship.  That makes sense.  They suggest you take time to heal your broken heart prior to jumping into another relationship.  I tend to agree and I think the judicious use of cabana boys is a definite good first step to healing.

That’s my advice to all of you – now, in my earlier posting my buddy Mrsupole suggested something I had left out – great and vast amounts of wild sex — unfortunately she didn’t specify who you should be having that sex with and I started thinking about Tiger Woods, and well, I’m staying away from the sex advice and sticking to other forms of communication kids.  If you want sex advice apparently Mrsupole is your lady…or maybe that, too, is another post?

Marriage and the Art of Communication

Okay not all couples live Gone With The Wind type romances – many of us are married folk who have been together for many years and in those years we have learned what each other’s facial expressions mean, how to finish each other’s sentences, and the art of succesful communication in general.

But sometimes we goof a little.  Take the other day for example.  Devoted Spouse and I were standing in the kitchen playing with the new coffee pot I had brought home and while standing next to him I said something to the effect of, “I am SO done with you.”  He turned around and looked at me with this puppy dog look on his face as if I had just asked him to pack his bags and get out of Dodge.  Actually I was referring to the fact I had finished buying his Christmas presents.  For some reason I expected him to understand this, because I had been having this conversation in my head about Christmas.  I simply forgot he couldn’t hear what was going on in my head (and that’s not a bad thing).  So, of course, I quickly amended my statement to “I am SO done with your Christmas presents.”  The puppy dog look left his face.  Successful communication often involves thinking quickly on your feet or moving your feet quickly to get out of the way.

Here’s another example of how to communicate.  One day last week Devoted Spouse had a doctor’s appointment and at that appointment he had to give some blood (ick).  So when he came home there was a bandage on his adorable little arm where they had leeched him (just kidding about the leeches).  Now, Devoted Spouse knows I have a problem with some bodily things — like blood, especially his.  And I’m very squeamish about bandages and wounds, and even the smallest bandaid if ripped off in front of me can reduce me to tears.  So what does he do?  When he finally realizes he still has the bandage on his arm he starts chasing me, pointing to the bandage and making ripping sounds.  Isn’t that cruel?  I might have started yelling…things like, “Ack, dont’ rip that thing off in front of me!” Or I might have said something like, “Rip that bandage off in front of me and your clothes are going out the bedroom window.”  He kept joking around with the bandage and I kept yelling.  Louder and louder.  EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer, figured this was a new pack game and she joined in the fun and frolic by running in circles around us, “Gimme the bandage, dad, I want the bandage, I love bandages.”  She would have eaten it, too, had she been given a chance.

This went on for some time until I finally convinced Devoted Spouse it was no longer funny (it hadn’t been funny to begin with) and if he ripped off that bandage and I fainted, hit my head on something and died, I would come back and haunt him forever.  He went upstairs, out of my sight, and did whatever it is he does with used bandages.  I didn’t care as long as I didn’t have to watch it.

It’s all about communication and getting to the point where you can say anything and your spouse or partner will understand.  Sometimes communication is as easy as finishing each other’s thoughts outloud.  Sometimes it’s a bit more forceful, as in “Touch that last cookie and tomorrow I have the locks on the house changed.”

Always keep the lines of communication open.  Be ready at a moment’s notice to fully explain what you meant to say.  And if all else fails, get your spouse’s mind off whatever subject is getting heated — toss them a beer – fast.  Then go shopping.  And remember to bring home a surprise.

How Many Husbands Does it Take to Turn A Light Off…or Communication 101

pic courtesy of doroteos2.wordpress.com

Sometimes life is just a he-said, she-said.  Sometimes I don’t think anybody is listening at all.  I hear so much fighting about politics and religion and schools and whether or not to listen to a stupid speech and it just goes on and on ad nauseum.  Sometimes I think we engage our mouths without letting the “reason” section of our brain catch up to what we’re considering saying out loud.  Other times we simply don’t pay attention to one another in the simplest of ways.

That sort of happened to me the other day.  Ya’ll (all 6 of you) know how I just ’bout adore Devoted Spouse and how I’ve gone on and on forever about how he’s taken such good care of me all throughout these many long months of me trying to get my strength back from my accident.  Well, turns out he’s got a fault — and it’s one of those teeny, tiny, little picayune, ridiculous faults that we all suffer from at one time or another.  But it’s driving me quite crazy.

He cannot remember to turn off the light in the bedroom closet.  That’s it.  That’s what is about to drive me over the edge of insanity and take him with me.  It is so irritating for someone who doesn’t sleep well to finally get to sleep, only to be awakened in a couple of hours as she tries to rearrange to get comfortable and is awakened by the light peeking out from under the door of the master bedroom closet.  It’s like lightning — it lights up the whole room.  It wakes me up thoroughly, because once I notice it’s on I have to get my sorry, hurting body out of bed, cross the room, and turn off the silly light switch, then limp back into bed and try to get there before EmmaLou takes my warm spot.  Then guess who is wide awake?

Last night I sent him to the guest room because I was truly hurting and didn’t want either his flailing arms or the cumbersome body of EmmaLou to accidentally bump into me during the night — no, that bed was going to be mine — all mine.  I got into bed; I got somewhat comfortable, I read for a few minutes, realized I was truly tired and turned off the light only to notice that #%$# closet light was still on.

I got up from bed and limped to the guest room and found Devoted Spouse in the guest bed reading with EmmaLou curled up by his side.  I walked over to him and told him that it pained me to do this considering how wonderful he has been to me the last 9 months, but I was being forced to take action.  He sheepishly looked up at me and said, “I left the light on again, didn’t I?”  I agreed that he had, indeed, done that terrible thing.  But here was the kicker.  He was going to be punished the next time he left that light on.  He looked at me funny like I was just making a joke.  I’m not making a joke.  Sometimes we have to learn lessons the hard way.

I’m going to the store tomorrow and buy some wax – the kind you heat up and then put on your legs and when it just cools you take a strip of cloth and lay it over the wax and then RIIIIIPPPP off the hair on your legs.  It hurts twenty seven thousand times more than an Epilady ever did.  I have informed Devoted Spouse (who has extremely hairy legs like a gorilla) that will be his punishment if he does this again.  He’s getting a leg waxed – just partially – just enough so the guys at church will look at him when he’s wearing shorts and wonder what’s up.  Then he’ll have to explain what he’s done.

I’m not kidding – if the wax doesn’t do the trick, I’m getting the tweezers – the rusty ones.

Maybe the closet needs one of those clapper lights instead.  Nah, I’m looking forward to the waxing session.