I’ve been thinking Thursday: Supportive

I try to only be positive about my hubs in public. It’s one of those things I think is important to the health of your marriage. Praise in public, critique in private.

I’ve occasionally deviated from this. Once, fed up with his leaving his oatmeal bowl on the counter with oatmeal in it until it dried into a crusty nastiness of epic proportions, I wrote a post about secondary characters. Giving them a life of their own, rather than leaving them to serve the main character.  One of my examples was about a time traveling journalist who kept leaving his oatmeal bowl for his wife to clean. LOL

But today I want to talk about one of those ways, he is amazing.

I can not spell. And despite teaching writing, compositional and creative, at the coop, my use of grammar is fractured to say the least. But the hubs…oh man….the hubs…

When I was working on my bachelors and the hubs was getting his masters, we both had to take this lame ass writing exam. Two parts, 75 multiple choice and then an essay. Timed.  Essay was scored on a scale of 1-12.

The scoring was weird though. The better you did on the multiple choice the less well you had to do on the essay to pass, which got you into 100W, required by all majors on campus. Then there was a pass plus which got you out of 100W. And of course fail.

The hubs got a perfect score on the multiple choice, which was all grammar and sentence structure, but scored so low on the essay he had to take 100W.

I got the lowest passing score possible on the multiple choice, but scored so high on the essay I qualified to waive 100W.

Why do I tell this story? Because my husband painstakingly edits my novels, multiple times. Sure I could pay someone to do this for me, but they wouldn’t know when they came across an error, what I really meant. And he always does. He knows when I write a long string of gobble-gook that I meant to say something profound and will ask, then tell me where to put the commas or suggest alternate arrangements that make the significance clear.  You can’t pay for that.

And why does he do this? Certainly not because he has too much time on his hands and nothing to do.  bwahahaha

He does it cause he supports my writing and he shows it by giving me the help I need to make it happen.

Sorry ladies, no brothers. LOL.

 

 

I’ve been thinking Thursday: False Imprisonment

I am steaming mad right now. I was just falsely imprisoned.

Definition:

False imprisonment occurs when a person is restricted in their personal movement within any area without justification or consent. Actual physical restraint is not necessary for false imprisonment to occur.

 

So I go to pick the kid up from a local park program. On my way in I see they are setting up for a cross country thing. Ok, whatevs.

I pick up the kid and start driving along the single road that gets you out of the park. The only exit.

Where I am stopped by some guy in a large group of people who informs me that the kids are running so I can’t drive.

I remind him they aren’t supposed to be running on the road.

“Oh but they need to cross it, twice. You’ll have to wait until the race is over.”

WTF? This long line of cars, now, has to wait several hours for your cross country meet to be over because runners who are no where in sight have to cross the road at some point, twice?

I just about lost my shit. I should have called the police, false imprisonment being a felony and all, but instead I got a parks employee who reminded said jerk that the cross country race contract specifically prohibited them from stopping cars on the road unless there were actual runners in sight.

Again I ask WTF?

Is humanity so single mindedly focused on their own desires they have lost the ability to act like a human?

I was pondering this on the drive home as I watched 6 or 7 cars refuse to a let a car in that had turned onto the road and was stuck in the suicide lane.

And yes, I let the guy in. He waved thank you.

No need to thank me man, just a flipping human over here.

I’ve been thinking Thursday: Popular?

Coop started this week. I was a bit worried about it’s health and welfare this past August but as usual it’s pulled itself together, opened the doors, and welcomed a new gaggle of folks.

I’m teaching two classes this year. Variations on what I like to teach each year : history and writing. It’s what I do. It’s what I know. Every year I have around 6 students per class. I get the occasional drop in and sometimes a student leaves but generally, 6 per class.  I like it that way.

I have 15 in Creative Writing and 14 in History.

Say what?

I was talking to another mom as we picked our kids up from another home school location where they take classes, and she was like “I’m so glad we registered early, you got really popular this year.”

popular

adjective

pop·u·lar | \ ˈpä-pyə-lər  \

Definition of Popular 

1of or relating to the general public (I think I always did this, the public of home schoolers anyway, LOL.)

2suitable to the majority: (yeah, so not this ever, I teach straight shot history for kids who like the truth, even when it’s messy. That’s a small group of humans.)

3frequently encountered or widely accepted (I only teach 2 classes…)
4commonly liked or approved, a very popular girl

I think that’s the one she meant. Ugh. NO thank you.

The whole idea makes me nervous. The problem with being popular is people talk. People talk and then other people seek you out to see what the big deal is and of course you fall short of the inflated expectations and then they talk about how much you suck.

With that many kids you can’t connect with them all. You can’t get to know them. Some of them are going to be let down and I hate that.

I know what you’re thinking, those are really large classes, why didn’t I put a maximum on?

Why didn’t I? I never need one before. I could always guess which kids would take my classes down to the letter.

Not anymore. sigh. I’m popular now.

I’ve been thinking Thursday: Naughty questions

This is a not PG rated post, in case you want to stop reading now.

I was watching an old episode of CSI. I’ve been enjoying them this stress filled summer. Excellent unwind capacity. But on this particular episode a woman is dead. Everyone who met the woman when she was alive kept going on about how beautiful she was and what an amazing body she had. Then you see her laid out in the morgue in a bra and panties.

Her hip bones stick out of her abdomen a good 2 inches. So does her pubic bone. Her ribs stick out further than her breasts in a push up bra.

This got me thinking. Yes, she’s beautiful but when you’re in bed with her, don’t all those bones hurt? Or is it like an acupressure thing?

So men, if you’ve had sex, vigorous or not, with a woman with bones sticking out everywhere, what’s that like?

No, don’t describe it. laughing. This is a mostly family friendly blog.

I want to understand the physics here. Do you have to be careful? Or it not even a thing?

I’ve been thinking Thursday: bias

How often do you hear someone say, oh yeah I’m Irish too. Or German. Or Lebanese. And then when asked where they come from, they say oh I was born in America. American’s are very concerned with their ancestry. But sometimes it works to your advantage.

I’m in Sint Maarten with the kiddo going on a snuba excursion. One of the women working on the boat has a slightly off accent from the Sint Maarten norm. I mention her accent sounds different and ask if she’s from the Netherlands. She says yes. I say, “My husband is Dutch.”

I see the eye roll she wants to do even though she’s too polite to do it as she sighs and says “and where is he from?”

“Gouda.” And I pronounce it the Dutch way.

Her entire face changes. “I used to live outside Gouda.”

Suddenly she’s calling the kiddo “my love” and our dive time extends way beyond the time stated in the tour.

ROFL.

I’ve been thinking Thursday: Distracted Drivers

I once got a ticket for texting at a stop light. I groused about it a bit because really, I was at a stop light and the cop had to pull out of a parking lot and weave thru traffic, lights and siren going to catch me. That always seemed more dangerous than my text at a red light but ok, did the crime, paid the fine.

But sometimes…

This morning the woman in front of me stops at the green light. The GREEN light. I give her a 3 count and then beep my horn at her. She waves but doesn’t move. There is no other lane I can pull into. It’s a concrete wall next to me holding up the freeway above my head. I honk again and mouth it’s a green light. She flips me off, takes off peeling rubber, and dive bombs across the lanes on the other side of the concrete wall while going thru the light.

And I was a danger texting at the red light? Where are the police when people pull this shit, which is actually dangerous on so many levels?

I’ve been thinking Thursday: Marriage Advice

Lately I’ve been listening to Gone Girl on audio while driving about. I haven’t decided whether I like the book or not yet but Amy is constantly ranting about the advice they got when they got married and I remember getting similar advice. Which led to me thinking about whether that was actually good advice or just the crap people say to sound like they know how to make a marriage work. With divorce around 50% nationally (3.2 out of 6.9) you have to think people are full of crap right?

Compromise

How many of you heard marriage is about compromise? I certainly did.

What I’ve learned however is constant compromise leads to repressed anger, which leads to resenting your spouse. Hello divorce.

Go for the win-win solution. There is always one to be found when you love the person you’re negotiating with.

Never go to bed angry

F that. Go to bed angry. Some situations can not be resolved quickly. And staying up to argue it out so you can go to bed at peace is a bad idea. Why? Because how good are your decision making skills when you’re angry? Now add exhausted to the mix. Yeah. How long before you say something you will regret after a night’s sleep?

Go to bed angry, in separate beds if you need to. Let a little time chill out the negative passions.

Discuss it rationally after a cup of coffee, or three.

Communicate

This one is actually true. Only how many of us have been taught to effectively communicate? I certainly wasn’t. Which leads me to this one….

Don’t air your dirty laundry

Keep the issues in your marriage within your marriage. You wouldn’t actually wash your clothes at a public drinking fountain, right?

No, but you might go to a laundry mat, cause that’s the appropriate location to wash laundry. If you have issues in your marriage, air that shit in public, at the appropriate location. See a therapist. Talk about what’s going on. Get instruction in communication.

It’s ok to admit you need help. It’s ok to admit you were wrong.

Never let your husband get the upper hand

Yup, somebody actually told me this. More than one somebody actually.

The thing is the hubs and I are a team. So I want him to get the upper hand, as often as possible, because it’s good for me too. Cause we’re on the same team.

Maybe I’m naive but if I can’t be vulnerable, needy, or at my worst with my husband, why the hell did I marry him?

What advice did you get when you got married that you look back and think – huh?