12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 12

I accidentally skipped yesterday, which would have been Day 12, but it isn't because I don't appreciate my husband. I started teaching again yesterday and the day got away from me.
Another thing, a 12th thing that I love about my husband is that he always finds me beautiful.
I was 25 when we met, 27 when we married. I weighed 118 pounds.

Times have changed.
No matter how much weight I gain or lose, my husband tells me that I'm beautiful. No matter how short or long my hair gets, straight or curly, glasses or contacts, he still tells me that I'm beautiful.
And whether I believe him or not, it's nice to hear it after 25 years of marriage.

Here we are at the entry to Le Riad, a Moroccan restaurant in Aix en Provence

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 10

I didn't realize it when I married him, but my husband is very good at fixing things. In spite of the fact that he's a journalist, he has a real mechanical bent. He can look at things and figure out how they go together and which part might be causing the problem.
When I told him a few days ago that the dryer smelled  hot, he pulled it out and cleaned the lint from the dryer vent and attached a new one.
When Tucker got a new analog watch and couldn't figure out how to set it, my husband realized that the bar over the knob simply snapped off to allow the stem to be pulled out and the watch to be set.
When someone drove past Spencer's car and knocked the side mirror off, my husband tracked down another mirror and watched a Youtube video that showed how to attach a new mirror so the mechanics worked and the mirror could be adjusted electrically, even though it included taking the door panel off.
It is such a relief to have a husband who can fix things without needing to call a repair person every time. And it takes a certain amount of patience to be able to take things apart and put them together.
I'm grateful my husband has mechanical aptitude.

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 9

Here I am on day 9 of reasons why I appreciate my husband. In case you have not been following along raptly (ha!), I find it helpful to remind myself how lucky I got 25 years ago when I married him. I'm not trying to say that I have a perfect marriage, only that marriage takes work and focusing on the positives instead of the negatives.
Another thing I appreciate about my husband is that he is much better at de-escalating fights than I am. I'm stubborn. I grab onto a point and won't let it go.
I reasonably know how to fight fair, to focus on I statements and explain how things make me feel, but my actions don't always follow the logical fight pattern.
Not every time, but many times when we are in the middle of an argument, my husband can pivot, concede a point, apologize for a specific thing that he did, let me know that he hears my point even if he doesn't agree. Any of those things can help to lessen the argument.

Here's my husband with one of the kids hanging onto him as they gaze out at Lake Huron.

I've learned lessons from him about arguing, not that I can always apply them, but I'm pretty sure my marriage wouldn't have lasted this long if he didn't know how to de-escalate.

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 8

Today, on the first day of the new year, after staying late at a party, my husband got out of bed and went to work. Someone always has to work holidays at the newspaper. He doesn't complain about it. 

And he has worked hard at his daily job since I first met him. His salary has been the one that supported our family, giving me the luxury to stay home when the kids were little. 

I appreciate that my husband is a hard worker and good provider. 

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 7

Love.
Obviously, I married my husband 25 years ago, after two years of dating, so we love each other.
At the time we married, I realized that I loved him in a soaring, unconditional way that he might not have reciprocated. He loved me, but it was more tempered.
He has told me since then that he couldn't imagine life without me. So we married.
But today, I can unequivocally say that he loves "me more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow...." My husband loves me more now than he did on the day of our wedding.

And that's a beautiful thing.

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 6

I'm halfway through my 12 Days of Appreciation countdown. I'm focusing on the reasons that I feel grateful for my husband. I'm not doing this because I think that we have some sort of superior marriage, but in an attempt to remember the important things in the midst of the day-to-day work of life.
Last night, my friend Najah came over. She's single and she gives relationship advice to my 23-year-old daughter. She started talking to Grace about the book The 5 Languages of Love.  Since I've been
married 25 years, it's not a book I'd heard of. The basics are that people need to figure out the main way the give and receive love, and how their partner gives and receives love. The five main ways the author describes are"Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch."
As Najah explained them, I realized that my husband's pretty good at most of these (except the gifts which neither of us find important), but the main one I see is "Acts of Service." He'll come in from a day at work and ask if he can get me anything. That's crazy!
"Go relax," he'll tell me. "I'll unload the dishwasher."
And he is the main laundry washer in my house. He might have an ulterior motive since he thinks my laundry skills are inferior, but if he prefers to stay on top of the laundry in the house, I'm happy to accept it.
My husband has learned to steam the milk on the espresso maker so he can make me a latte even though he doesn't drink coffee. He shows me love through his acts of service every day.

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 5

Sometimes it's the simple things in life that help improve it.
Often, when my husband comes to bed, or if he wakes up in the morning and I'm still in bed, he gives me a backrub.
Who doesn't love a backrub?
Just one other reason that I love my husband.

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 3

Some days, when we get caught up in the day-to-day grind of cooking meals, cleaning, working, dealing with children, we forget about the higher qualities of your spouse. We can find ourselves in a negative rut if we aren't careful.
The positive thinking books encourage readers to focus on the good, to be grateful for what we have, and I'm focusing on the blessings of a devoted husband.
I went for a run this morning with the temperature hovering around 66 degrees. That's ridiculously warm for December. I dressed in a short sleeved shirt and knee length running tights. After nearly 40 minutes, I felt drops of rain falling on me. I turned right, hoping the rain might not have arrived farther south, but the rain intensified and the wind picked up, roaring down the street and bending young trees over so that they nearly touched the ground.
As the rain soaked through my clothes, I listened for thunder and watched for lightning. In spite of the intensity of the storm, no thunder and lightning, so I ran the mile and a half home, dripping. Each step squooshed with water.
Even as I continued to run, I knew that I could stop in any doorway, pull my phone from my waterproof belt and call my husband. He would walk through the rain to the car and drive down the streets to rescue me.
Having someone who will be there in any situation is such a luxury; one that I don't feel thankful for often enough. So today, I'm feeling grateful.

What Kind of Wife Are You?

Sometimes I wish I was one of those kinds of wives. You know the type. The ones that expect their husbands to take care of everything.
I was huddled in my car at 8:30 tonight, ready to drive home from teaching. The snow was falling heavily, and my windshield wipers scraped at the ice beneath trying to clear the glass.
I called home to see if anyone needed anything.
Spencer, home for spring break, planned to take the car after I got home.
Damn.
I had been debating whether I needed to stop and get gas. I could brave the snow and get gas on the way home while the temperature hovered around 30 degrees, or I could wait for the next day when the snow would have stopped but the temperature would plummet.
If Spencer was taking the car, I'd need to stop and get gas. He's a poor college student so has no money to fill up the car.
Earl offered, "You could come home and I'll go out and get gas."
But I couldn't. I'm not that kind of wife -- the kind who would go home where it's warm while her husband ventured out in the snow for no reason. I was out already; a little snow and cold wouldn't kill me while I filled the car with gas.
And so, I did.

But Earl told me, "You can be that kind of wife if you want to."
I'll keep that promise in mind, just in case I ever need it.

Catching Up on Cooking

I left on Saturday to take Spencer back to college. He didn't really need me since we flew, but I wanted to spend some time with my parents who live about an hour and a half from Spencer's college.
I flew back on Wednesday and was in my back door by 10:30 a.m. I love flying rather than driving for 16 hours.
While in Florida, I received a call from my baby boy (17 years old)  who was home with his father.
He claimed there was nothing to eat in the house.
"How bout all those frozen meals I bought?" I asked.
"The only one left is baked ziti.  You know I don't like ziti."
I had no idea that he didn't like pasta if it was shaped differently.
"I've only been eating Raisin Bran Crunch all week and now we're out of milk," he complained.
So from my parent's house in Florida, I got online and ordered, plus paid for, a sandwich from Jimmy John's that he could eat after his swim practice. Jimmy John's delivers.
I could have argued with him, but I was on vacation, plus he's my third kid and I rarely have the energy to argue with him.
When I came home Wednesday morning, my first stop after home was the grocery store. I planned a meal, homemade pizza, salad, brownies with white chocolate chips.
When Tucker walked in from play practice Wednesday  night and said, "Is there any food?" I pulled the pizza from the oven. He went back for seconds of salad too.

After five years working evenings, usually 4 to midnight, my husband Earl started on days this week. I wasn't there to greet him on Monday or Tuesday evening, but Wednesday evening, as he let me know he was on the bus ride home from downtown, it suddenly hit me. I needed to greet him like a 1950s housewife with a drink at the door.
I couldn't put the "kids" to bed, since he was 17 and it was 6:30 p.m. But I did put on sexy dress with high heels and twisted my hair up into a chignon. Then I put on an apron and poured a glass of red wine. I stood in front of Tucker and warned him, "I don't want to scare you. I'm just playing a joke on Dad about being a housewife for him now."
"Whatever." Tucker's eyes might have rolled up into his head.
But Earl was thrilled when he walked in the house. Unfortunately, it won't be a habit since I start back to work next week.

The cooking continued this week. Before Tucker left for school Thursday morning, I pulled cinnamon rolls from the oven.
Thursday night, I had steaming potato soup on the stove when he walked in and a baguette.
 Since Earl worked evenings, I often skipped making meals for dinner. Now that my husband is working days, guess I'll have to be more diligent. But if I don't feel like cooking, I'll just suggest we head to a nearby Chinese place.

Many Happy Returns

I've really been a lax blogger recently, and I apologize. I seem to be racing from one seeming emergency to the next and in between, I just collapse. No real emergencies, just everyday life of teaching college and raising teenagers.
People are emailing to say things like, "Are you going to post that review?" and "Weren't you going to send me a copy of your book?" or "Did you ever manage to download that thing I sent you?" and I realize that my to-do list may have fallen by the wayside.
However, the weekends offer a respite and I plan to take advantage, especially now that my husband has limped home, I mean returned triumphantly, from his camping/hiking/canoeing trip. I'm sure he'll have pictures that I can share once he's awake. For now, he's sleeping in a real bed and maybe remembering that camping in  your 50s isn't as much fun as camping in your 30s.
He got home sometime after 2, so I was in bed obviously. He came in to kiss me goodnight, ran into the desk chair in the hallway and bent over very stiffly to tell me he was home. Then he headed straight for the television to check "the scores." By that, he means baseball because he is a St. Louis Cardinals fan and they are in a tight race to get in .... something that could lead to the World Series.
When he came to bed later, I groggily mumbled, "Is your back hurt?"
"Shoulder," he responded. All that canoeing from lake to lake in Canada aggravated an old football injury that used to pop his shoulder out of place and they'd simply pop it back in and send him into the game again. He has a huge railroad track scar above his collar bone where the cigar-chomping surgeon worked on the shoulder injury.
I'm sure I'll hear many fun camping stories once he is up and I return from work.
Meanwhile, here's a photo that a friend just put on Facebook of me and Earl at a New Year's Eve party. Always fun to find a decent photo.

Have a happy Thursday.

Husband MIA

All it takes to realize how much someone does for you, is to have them leave for awhile. Lucky for me, it was only a temporary absence as my husband and oldest son gallivant around the state of Florida, leaving me and the 16-year-old home alone. I can tell you that the 16-year-old has not picked up the slack. Even now, I'm waiting to hear the dryer start because I asked him to put the sheets in the dryer and turn it on. The dryer is empty; the sheets are washed. It's a fairly simple act if he can hoist his teenage body off the futon and away from the video games.
My husband mowed the lawn before he left last week, so I haven't had to tackle that. I have had to take out the trash and scoop the kitty pan everyday -- something he usually takes care. I needed to remember to set the trash cans and the recycling bins out by the curb the night before our trash pick up.
I've had to do the laundry, which he usually handles. My husband works evenings, so when I'm gone to work during the day, he takes care of the yard and household things. Then I get home and collapse. I'm so wimpy.
I have had to wash by hand all the dishes that Tucker and I have used. Our dishwasher has been broken since September, and it was never a good dishwasher any way, so instead of getting it fixed, we plan to buy a new one. But it's stainless steel so we need to replace it with a stainless steel one and those are more expensive, plus college payments keep getting in the way. So the dishwasher stands empty while I keep filling the sink with sudsy water, washing the dishes and setting them out to dry on the countertop. Lots of times when I'm at work, Earl takes care of that too.
Some simple things that he takes care of have gone undone. One day, we didn't bring the newspaper in at all. It just laid there on the front porch. Earl's also the one who gets the mail, usually the next day since it comes after he leaves for work and I never think of getting it, so I've had to remember that.
Luckily, nothing has broken while he has been gone, because Earl fixes everything in the house.
I can do without him for a week or so, but the whole place would probably fall apart if he left for much longer.

Adapting

My friend Stephanie teared up on Saturday when she talked about her daughter going back to college. She couldn't think about it, much less bear to watch her leave the house and return to the college two hours away.
It's times like this, that I realize I may be lacking in some basic emotions. It's not like I love my kids any less, I'm just not overly emotional about them heading off to college or France or wherever their lives take them.
I've hypothesized before that I'm less emotional about it because I homeschooled them and I feel like I've spent plenty of hours getting them prepared for life beyond home. But I think something else has helped prepare me too.

Three years ago in March, my husband found out that the newspaper was laying off employees. We found out the next day that Earl wasn't laid off, but he was moved to the evening shift. This left him home during the day. Since I am an adjunct college teacher, I'm sometimes home during the day too. We had to learn how to adapt to new schedules and learned how to enjoy time together while the kids were gone to school.
Sometimes we walk downtown to get coffee, other times we venture out for lunch or ride our bicycles. Sometimes, we just watch sitcom reruns. We've remembered what we enjoyed about each other before the kids came along.
I think this alone time together has helped prepare me for the empty nest that is coming. This year Spencer will graduate and head off to college. Two years later, Tucker will follow suit. Then, unless Grace comes home after college, Earl and I will be home alone throughout the school year.
The idea is certainly different. No basketball games or swim meets or musicals or orthodontist appointments. No big shoes strewn across the kitchen floor. No pile of wet towels waiting to be washed. And no one to stretch up to on tiptoes so I can kiss their stubbly cheeks goodbye as they head out the door for school.
I imagine that if Earl is still working evenings, cooking dinner will go by the wayside. I'll probably settle for a bowl of cereal or a salad.
Even as I strain to hear the back door slam with the approach of oncoming teenage boy feet home from school, I don't feel teary at the idea they'll have moved on.
I'm not a martyr taking a stiff upper lip as they move on, and I'm not so selfish that I can't wait until they go. It just feels right that the kids take up new challenges. They live in a college dorm full of other tall boys and girls who dance and watch Disney films. They are busy carving out their own niches now.
And luckily, I'll still have days filled with my husband and dreams of traveling to exotic places.

Some Secrets to a Long, Happy Marriage

I don't want to pretend to have all the answers. Earl and I have definitely had our challenges in 21 years of marriage, but this week we did two things that, I think, have helped us maintain a relationship where we still enjoy each other.
The other night, on one of Earl's rare nights off, once the boys were safely home, I suggested that Earl and I walk the mile up to Caribou Coffee. Of course, it was dark already, but the temperature hovered in the 50s and a misty rain fell occasionally. We both carried umbrellas and I had my reusable cup so I could get 50 cents off and so I could be ecologically conscious. We held hands as we walked the quiet streets until we got to the brightly lit Caribou. I found a seat and Earl fetched my coffee, which was supposed to be decaf, but considering how wired I was afterward, I'm thinking it might have been regular.
As we sat in the cozy Caribou Coffee, we talked about Earl's plans, which constitute the second step to a happy marriage. He was leaving for a backpacking trip in West Virginia. He would only be gone two days, but sometimes a marriage is stronger with a little distance.
He takes offense at this idea, but sometimes I do need time to myself. So I told him I had arranged to have the day off on Thursday. That way, I could rejuvenate alone.
It's not that Earl bugs me when I'm home. Sometimes he's a little oversolicitous.
"Can I get you anything?"
"What are you working on?"
"Do you want some tea?"
"Want to go for a walk later?"
And these are all perfectly kind questions for my husband to ask me while we're home together and the boys are at school.
Sometimes though, I like to have the place to myself.
This morning, Earl left around 7 and the boys screeched out of the house a little before 8 hoping to make it to school on time.
I had a 45 minute conversation with my friend Ruth in Michigan (who, with 4 kids at home, is very jealous I'm home alone). Then Grace called me on Skype and we talked for a few minutes.
Next, I did 45 minutes of yoga. Usually with yoga, I'm itching to finish, ticking off all the things that I need to do yet. But today, I was calm and the time passed quickly.
Now I'm in front of the computer, ready to do some writing, and I'll probably reward myself with a walk down to Caribou later.
I'm a free woman until the boys get done with school. Then I'll have to do some driving and make some dinner -- maybe chili since the temperature is still in the 30s.
This time alone is rejuvenating for me, And hopefully Earl's hike in the West Virginia mountains will be refreshing for him. Then I'll see him in two days and we'll be ready to move onto 21 more years.

Early Thanksgiving

It seems like all of my posts have been fairly negative lately, so I thought I should stop and be thankful instead.
So, here, the Wednesday after Canadian Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for: My husband who, although he came home with only one chocolate bar from France two weeks ago, has worked everyday with only one day off. Sleep in today, honey. You deserve it. And take a second day off this week.
My unswollen, though still flaking, face. I'm on the last leg of the steroids the doctor gave me to combat my reaction to the Aveda moisturizer. With steroids, the medicine steps down. So I started taking six pills a day over a week ago, and now I'm down to three. Before you know it, I'll stop feeling all jittery and need more than four hours of sleep each night. I am accomplishing a lot since I don't need sleep. When you get up at 3:30 a.m., you can get an amazing amount done by 6. It's like the day's half over.
A second car. We've been a one car family since Labor Day Weekend when Spencer drove in front of a truck and, basically, had the front end of his Honda Accord taken off. No one was hurt, but for over a month now, we've had one car. That means I've just driven everyone where they need to go rather than Spencer or Earl (or Grace while she was still home) taking a car. Somedays, I never sat down in my house, just walked in the door after work and drove people around all evening. But now we have a second car. That the boys can drive to school or Earl can take to Home Depot. It's an Explorer, but, since two of my children have totaled cars and I have one more learning to drive now, I wanted something big enough to keep him (and the rest of them) safe -- just in case.
I'm also thankful that two of the college classes I'm teaching will end next week and I'll have a mini vacation, teaching only five course through Christmas.
Other things, yes, the weather has been gorgeous. The cats took a nap outside in the hammock with me yesterday. Well, I napped. They kind of clung to the hammock.
And when Tucker was hanging outside with me and the cats, he asked to take a picture of Tupi's fat hanging through the hammock. Not mine.
See, lots of things to be thankful for.
How about you? Are you thankful for something?

The Cat's Tail is on Fire!

Even as he stood in the kitchen with a dish towel in hand, my husband had to know that this story could not avoid the blog.
I had allowed the younger cat, Tybalt, to go outside a few minutes before. He stays on the sidewalk and rolls onto his back the minute he feels the sunshine, unlike the older cat who always makes a break for it. I let Tybalt enjoy the warm day and the outside smells for a few minutes until I carried him back inside.
I returned to my computer and Earl decided to heat some water for tea.
That's when I heard him speaking in warning tones to the cat.
"Tybalt. Is that feeling a little warm?"
I went back to the kitchen and saw that the cat was sitting on the counter staring out the back door. His tail swished back and forth, close to the gas stove burner that Earl had lit to warm his tea water.
The cats, of course, are not allowed on the kitchen counters. We have a spray bottle of water to use that convinces them to jump down. I have even put pieces of tape, sticky side up, along the counter to dissuade them from using the kitchen counters as a short cut.
I searched for the spray bottle to get Tybalt off the counter.
"Let him learn his lesson," Earl said.
With another flick of Tybalt's tail, the end flamed yellow.
I could picture him making a run for it, his tail lighting couches and curtains on fire. The house would burn to the ground because my husband thought a cat, with a 3-second memory, could learn his lesson by catching his tail on fire.
As Earl described it later, it was just like a cartoon where the fuse is lit.
The cat's black tail flamed, Earl smacked the fire with the dish towel, and all that remained was the sickening smell of burnt hair.
Tybalt is okay. He sat on my lap later licking the burnt tail hair. Earl assures me that the skin underneath never burned, just the hair, and that the cat is not hurt.
I just hope he learned his lesson. Not the cat, my husband. Anything that blatantly obvious will land him on the blog.

Midnight Baking

I woke up at 2:30 a.m. and stirred in the dark.
My husband, who works evenings, was not in bed next to me. He should have been home around midnight.
Then I smelled it. Birthday cake baking. Rich chocolate.
Happy Birthday to me.
No, I don't deserve a husband who stays up in the middle of the night to bake me a birthday cake, but I'm still keeping him.
He put the three layers in the microwave to cool.
I went back to sleep.

Happy Birthday to my Husband

Today, my husband is officially eight years older than I am. But that only lasts for two months.
This has been a big year of change for him, for our family. His job has changed, some parts better, some worse. He works eight hours and is finished but he has to work evenings. He doesn't bring work home with him, but he doesn't look forward to going very much.
Since he is home during the day, we have a lot more together time when I am not teaching. There are times when he expects me to have equal free time, but "not at work" does not equal "free time" for me. He has picked up the slack I left behind with the housework and laundry. When I have worked all day, I often come home to a clean house, piles of folded laundry waiting on the bed..
When we married nearly 20 years ago, I knew he was a nice guy, but I was too young to know how wisely I had chosen. I saw that when the waitress dropped a tray, he got up to help her. I saw that when he refused one of the many homeless people in Key West who asked for money then later saw the woman sleeping in a car, he knocked on the window of the car to give her money. He was obviously a decent person.
Over the years, if anything, he has come to love me more, and I don't know how I got so lucky. His first thought is what will make me happy, what will make things easier for me. And, although he ocassionally guesses wrong, or causes a flap with the kids, I know that his motives are true.
Sometimes we fight. Sometimes loudly. But underneath, I feel very blessed that I married a man who has grown with me instead of apart from me.
And this afternoon, when the romantic lunch we had planned fell through as the kids chose to skip this swim practice and stay home, he shrugged and drank the mellow glass of chardonnay. He knows that, although today is a special day, it won't be the last opportunity for us to share a romantic afternnon.
Happy birthday, Earl.

Still Hyperventilating

This is a stack of the papers I have to get graded, and it doesn't include my online classes or the blue books I received Monday or will get tomorrow during finals. A blue book is a composition book that I have students write in during class.
This weekend, I graded like a mad woman. I took time out to sit through one basketball game and one swim meet. Of course, I can grade in between events during the swim meet. I skipped another swim meet and basketball game to grade. Right now, I really wish I taught math. The answer is right or wrong, there's no in between, no analysis. The only thing I'm hanging on to is the fact that it has to end. Grades are due next Monday for one college and the following Monday for the other. I'm bound to have nearly two weeks without grading over Christmas break.
I scheduled two distractions this week. One was yesterday, lunch with Marcus. Last year, Marcus and I had lunch together once a week. We read each other's works in progress -- he's writing a screenplay and I'm writing a novel. We talked about my life with teenagers and his life preparing to marry a (practically) teenager. Last summer he got married (she's actually 26 and he's 40). We both took on a lot more classes, which cut down on our writing and meeting time. Plus, my husband doesn't work during the day any more, so it seems weird to tell him I'm having lunch with Marcus. I did tell him yesterday, "Do you mind if I have lunch with Marcus?" which seems rather wimpy of me. He said he didn't mind, "as long as you don't sleep with him." That was not a problem for me, and I told Earl that Marcus has the 26-year-old wife along with a 19-year-old sister-in-law living with him, so he is covered. Marcus makes me laugh. He's very sarcastic and self effacing, in spite of being "overly muscled" (as I told Earl) and having looks similar to a Calvin Klein model. I was going to take a picture of him, but the camera battery was dead, so let's pretend that I had lunch with this guy.
I only spent about an hour at lunch, but today, I've scheduled a longer break, pledging to spend the morning Christmas shopping with my husband and then having lunch before I dive into grading papers again. I'm looking forward to spending the time together, but I do feel anxious about getting the papers done. I promise not to look at the time on my cell phone while we're together. I'm going to relax and enjoy myself. I'd better include a picture of him too.Maybe I take my husband for granted, like most wives do. I'm more likely to clear my schedule for lunch with a friend than lunch with my husband. But, while I grade papers this afternoon, he'll be the one driving Tucker and his friends to swim practice, cleaning up after dinner and bringing me a blanket when I'm hunched over my papers. He's the one I want to go to France with this summer.
So I'd better get grading papers. Each paper represents another dollar going into that France fund.

Ungrateful

Sometimes I read something and it bugs me that people seem ungrateful for their great opportunities.
The other day, a woman on my Yahoo writing group sent an email complaining about all the cities she has to go to and the hotels she has to stay in while she is promoting her new book. I felt truly bad for her, which is why I sent back an email that said, "Ummm. I'd take it."
I would. I'd love to wake up and be disoriented, wondering where I need to speak today, convincing readers to buy my published book. Of course, I haven't sold a book yet, so that's not going to be me any time soon.
I dream of living in France and torture myself by reading the blogs of Americans who are happily settled there. So when one of them complains that she can't find a good donut in Paris, I'm not very sympathetic. Donut? Come on. You're surrounded with the best pastries ever. I suppose if I eventually move, I will miss American things and probably complain about them.
Then it struck me that I am ungrateful in a different way.
I have a husband who does housework and laundry, without expecting much in return. Most women would be thrilled to have a husband like this, and I am, but still find myself whining about some things.
I won't go into details about the sheets and the upside down mattress pad (yes, the mattress pad was on the bottom of the mattress rather than protecting the top of the mattress), but the missing toothbrush is one I can share.
When I came home from work on Friday, the house smelled like bleach and cleaning products. He had cleaned the bathroom. "Thanks!" I said, enthusiastically then forgot about it.
That evening, I was preparing to go teach another class. In the bathroom, I searched for my toothbrush. It was gone. I called Earl who was at work.
"What did it look like?" he asked, alerting my suspicions.
"Was it kind of ratty looking?" he asked, building his case.
"Just tell me," I said.
Since Tucker has been sick, he decided the toothbrushes should be boiled. But these are not his mother's toothbrushes. The cheap plastic melted when he tried to boil mine. So, he threw it away and didn't think about it again.
"I thought it was one of the kids'," he said.
Nevertheless, I was out a toothbrush and I taught until 10 so wouldn't have another chance to buy a new toothbrush until the next day. Ick!!!
So that is me, complaining about my husband cleaning the bathroom and melting my toothbrush when most women would be eternally grateful that their husbands cleaned anything.