The Husband

The First Conversation Of The Day

/ Ally Bean / 13 Comments

•  Here’s what I said to Zen-Den first thing this morning:

“What do you want to do… oh never mind, we can’t do that.”

•  Here’s what I was thinking as I said what I said:

“What do you want to do…

…it’s cold outside this morning, we should make waffles… yeah waffles… oh no, we don’t have any whole wheat flour or buttermilk to make Alton Brown‘s basic waffles… phooey… hey wait a minute, we could make those cornmeal waffles that are so good with maple syrup on them… yeah waffles… wait… i used all the cornmeal last week to make cornbread to go with the chili… humph… i really need to put those items on the grocery list…

oh never mind, we can’t do that.”

•  Here’s what he said to me upon hearing my statement:

“Of course.”

•  And then here is what he did– and has continued to do off and on for the last three hours.  He stepped away from me as if he was on stage, and started singing/dancing/arm moving to the Backstreet Boys classic hit, “I Want It That Way.” Except that he changed the words to:

“I WANT IT YOUR WAY.”

•  And here is what I’m thinking:

Great idea.  But could you lose the bad singing, goofy dancing and ridiculous arm gestures when saying it.  It’d make me think that you were more sincere– and really meant what you are saying!


The Lighter Side Of Marital Miscommunication

/ Ally Bean / 12 Comments

We were watching a football game on TV.  And by we were watching I mean Zen-Den was watching the football game and commercials, while I was looking through a stack of home decor catalogues… and aware that a game was on TV.

In one of the catalogues I saw an outdoor small table with two chairs that at first struck me as something that we might want.  The table and chair were made of metal but looked like twigs had been put together in such a way as to create a table and chairs.  Very chic.  I thought that they might work on our deck over against one wall for me to use at noontime when I’m eating lunch by myself.

So I started to show Z-D the photo of the small table with two chairs, but in mid-show I decided that I didn’t like the table and two chairs after all.

Z-D wasn’t really paying much attention to what I was doing.  No surprise there.  Instead he was staring at a commercial for Cialis— and as with all commercials for Cialis the serious male announcer voice was telling us very important information.

TV commercial:  “Blah, blah, blah… When the moment is right, will you be ready?”

Me, referring to the photo in the catalogue:  “That’d make nervous if I had to look at it very much.”

Z-D, thinking that I’m watching the TV commercial:  “Why?”

Me, staring at the photo:  “Because pieces of it stick out funny.”

Z-D, still thinking that I’m talking about the topic of the TV commercial:  “Why would you care about that?  That’s not your problem.”

Me, getting ready to turn the page in the catalogue:  “Because I’d have to sit on it and that’d be uncomfortable.”

Z-D, finally paying attention to me:  “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”

Me, handing him the catalogue with the photo:  “This chair that looks like it’s made of twigs.  Why?  What’d you think I was talking about?”

Z-D, dissolving into laughter: “The commercial on TV for ED.  I thought you were watching it.”

Me, indignant then realizing what I’d just said:  “No, of course I wasn’t watching that… HEY WAIT A MINUTE.  You thought I was talking about THAT?”

Z-D, staring at me in amazement:  “Yep.  And you were darned funny, too.”

Speaking Of Archetypes

/ Ally Bean / 5 Comments

“If you can’t say something good about someone, come sit next to me.”

~ Alice Roosevelt Longworth

~ • ~

‘Tis the season of… meeting and socializing with lots of different, unique people.

So we’re sitting at home discussing where we’ve been and Zen-Den, who is not at all fluent in archetypes because he did not major in English in college, asks me:  What’s up with X?

I explain to him that she considers herself to be a Possibilitarian.  That it’s an archetype.

And he counters with: that’s the most ridiculous term I’ve ever heard– you mean, someone who doesn’t actually do anything, just talks about what is possible?

I tell him that’s the gist of it–  someone who focuses on aspirations.  Who thinks and talks about what might be.

A dreamer with a fancy vocabulary.

He nods in amazement.

Then Z-D, who doesn’t usually drink very much, asks me:  Do you suppose if I drank more alcoholic beverages more often I could call myself a Chillaxatarian?

I tell him that I’d refer to him as such.  And that he could definitely get X to refer to him as such.  And that by doing this he’d have his own, very special, archetype.

A goofball with a bottle of beer.

He nods his approval and then wanders off to the frig to get something more to drink.

And so, with that, a new archetype was born.  One that encompasses all that is relaxed and beer related.  One that you know is bound to be popular.

~ • ~

Hallelujah and pass the brewskis, there’s a Chillaxatarian in our midst!

Cross Examined At Breakfast

/ Ally Bean / 16 Comments

I walked into the kitchen the other morning wearing five pocket straight leg jeans and a t-shirt.  I was carrying my sweater to put on after I ate breakfast, but before I went out the door.  The following conversation ensued.

~ • ~ 

Him:  You have sparkles on your butt.

Me:  [shaking my tail feathers]  You like?

Him:  There’s shiny stuff on your back pockets.

Me:  [reaching for the carafe and pouring myself a cup of coffee]  Pretty, huh?

Him:  What are those sparkles doing on your butt?

Me:  [pushing him aside to get into the pantry]  They’re fashionable.  They’re just there.

Him:  Does your sweater cover your butt?

Me:  [ripping open a breakfast bar and biting into it]  I dunno.

Him:  Well, if it’s long enough your sweater will cover the sparkles on your butt.

Me:  [taking another bite of breakfast bar]  Yes, and if it’s short enough you’ll see all the shiny on the pockets.

Him:  Is that what you want?

Me:  [eating my last bite of breakfast bar]  I don’t care.

Him:  Here, put on your sweater.

Me:  [putting on my sweater]  Okay.  How’s it look?  Sparkles or not?

Him:  Your sweater covers part of your pockets.  You’re only half shiny.

Me:  [slurping my last slug of coffee]  Okie dokie then.  I’m a sparkly half-ass.  It’s confirmed.

Him:  Why’d you buy those jeans?

Me:  [grabbing my purse from the floor where I’d put it beside my canvas tote]  I bought them because they were on sale.  I don’t care what happens on the backside.  I don’t see it.  And they fit really well.

Him:  Hmmm.  Yes, they do.

~ • ~ 

And this my friends is what it’s like being married to a lawyer.  He can’t just say “pretty.”  Oh no.  He has to get all the details first.  Establish a fact pattern.  And then he’ll comment.  If he’s in the mood.