My wife was making bread this afternoon, but had to get something done at the bank: which left me with a table covered with dough in various stages of preparation.
I asked her if there was anything she'd like me to do while she was out.
After a moment's reflection, she told me: "Leave everything alone."
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Friday, March 4, 2011
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Overheated Van, Common-Sense Advice
Yesterday afternoon didn't go quite as-planned.
I thought I was going to drive to St. Cloud, get a copy of my son's birth certificate so that he could get a photo-ID - which in turn would make it possible for him to get tested on a computer maintenance course he's taken - and pick up medications for me.
That was the plan.
I was a few miles out from Sauk Centre when I heard a 'beep' from the dashboard. Never a good sign. The oil warning light was on, and the gauge was climbing to the top of its range.
Several miles later, after coasting in neutral, accelerating to highway speed and repeating the cycle on the shoulder - hazard flashers on, of course - I made it up the Melrose exit, about ten miles from Sauk Centre.
I'd figured how long it would take me to get to St. Cloud at that rate - and the Stearns County offices would have been closed by then.
I called home (sensible act) and told my wife what had happened. I then opined (not-so-sensible thing) that I could get the van back, the same way I got it to Melrose.
I then felt very 'married,' when my wife told me in even, deliberate tones: "Call - Flowers." So I called Flowers Collision service here in town - and eventually got a tow back to Sauk Centre.
I still think I could have coaxed the van back into town - but asking for help was a lot more sensible.
No wonder I've heard that men live, on average, ten years longer if they're married.
I thought I was going to drive to St. Cloud, get a copy of my son's birth certificate so that he could get a photo-ID - which in turn would make it possible for him to get tested on a computer maintenance course he's taken - and pick up medications for me.
That was the plan.
I was a few miles out from Sauk Centre when I heard a 'beep' from the dashboard. Never a good sign. The oil warning light was on, and the gauge was climbing to the top of its range.
Several miles later, after coasting in neutral, accelerating to highway speed and repeating the cycle on the shoulder - hazard flashers on, of course - I made it up the Melrose exit, about ten miles from Sauk Centre.
I'd figured how long it would take me to get to St. Cloud at that rate - and the Stearns County offices would have been closed by then.
I called home (sensible act) and told my wife what had happened. I then opined (not-so-sensible thing) that I could get the van back, the same way I got it to Melrose.
I then felt very 'married,' when my wife told me in even, deliberate tones: "Call - Flowers." So I called Flowers Collision service here in town - and eventually got a tow back to Sauk Centre.
I still think I could have coaxed the van back into town - but asking for help was a lot more sensible.
No wonder I've heard that men live, on average, ten years longer if they're married.
Monday, December 29, 2008
I'm Sick, the Furnace is Kaput, There's a Storm Coming: but Other Than That, Things are Fine!
Let's see: I drove #2 daughter and her boyfriend down to St. Cloud last Thursday, and saw them off at the airport.
First leg of the journey, outbound from St. Cloud, Minnesota.
Then, the hour-long drive back to Sauk Centre. Since it was Christmas Day, there were a lot of empty parking lots near the Interstate.
By Friday evening, I was feeling distinctly below-par. Enough so that I didn't grill lunch Saturday or Sunday. Or go to Mass on Sunday.
Sunday morning, the family was dressed and ready to go, we went to the garage, tried to open the door - and it wouldn't budge. That's not quite accurate. It may have moved a thirty-second of an inch or so, but that was it.
No problems. #1 daughter's car was parked on the street north of the house, so she and I went out the front door to fetch it. I got as far as the edge of the front stoop, when something about the ice - and the way I was feeling - told me that staying in was prudent.
Turns out I was right.
I went out this afternoon, since there were prescriptions and groceries to get. My wife is feeling worse than I am, and it gave me a chance to take some pictures. I went to Wal-Mart for one set of prescriptions, then to Coborn's. That's when I noticed that I didn't have the shopping list with me.
Back into the van. I backtracked my route: particularly where I'd opened the door to get a photo of the new Ace Hardware place. No card with writing on it.
Into Wal-Mart, and a brisk walk to the pharmacy. Which, by that time, was closed. They take a late lunch break, which is great for people picking something up during a more conventional noon break.
For me, those lowered gratings weren't what I wanted to see.
However, they'd left the shopping list within inches of where I set it down - on a counter that's outside the barriers. Happy days.
Back to Coborn's, where I got more-or-less what my wife had written down. I'm told that it was close enough.
Then home and into the garage. (Good news - the door works now.) The family had been busy: my route to the inside door was blocked. So, outside and around to the front door, carrying about half the groceries.
Once inside, I shambled to the kitchen, set the groceries on the floor, and mumbled something about potatoes still being in the van, and my not feeling like getting them.
My temperature's now above 101: so at least I've got a good excuse for feeling the way I do.
She also had the kids moving electric heaters into position.
She obviously had the situation well in hand, so I stayed out of the way. The rest of the day was a sort of Good News / Bad News scenario:
Right now, my wife's distribution of electric heaters has kept the house quite habitable, and we have yet to pop a circuit breaker.
#3 daughter has a layered look with a hooded jacket, leg warmers, and a scarf on the outside. Even my son is wearing a sweater. So am I, of course.
There's a "winter weather advisory" for tomorrow, and we could get up to a half-foot of snow tomorrow. That's actually good news, since if it accumulates on the roof we'll have a bit of extra insulation. The (by my standards wimpy) 13-mile-an-hour wind might drift the snow up against the house a little, too.
This reminds me of the Good Old Days - and why I'm so glad that I don't have to live there.
Finally, we got a call from #2 daughter and her fiance, down in Louisiana. After my wife touched base, I talked with him - and have a project to get done.
First leg of the journey, outbound from St. Cloud, Minnesota.
Then, the hour-long drive back to Sauk Centre. Since it was Christmas Day, there were a lot of empty parking lots near the Interstate.
By Friday evening, I was feeling distinctly below-par. Enough so that I didn't grill lunch Saturday or Sunday. Or go to Mass on Sunday.
Sunday morning, the family was dressed and ready to go, we went to the garage, tried to open the door - and it wouldn't budge. That's not quite accurate. It may have moved a thirty-second of an inch or so, but that was it.
No problems. #1 daughter's car was parked on the street north of the house, so she and I went out the front door to fetch it. I got as far as the edge of the front stoop, when something about the ice - and the way I was feeling - told me that staying in was prudent.
Turns out I was right.
I went out this afternoon, since there were prescriptions and groceries to get. My wife is feeling worse than I am, and it gave me a chance to take some pictures. I went to Wal-Mart for one set of prescriptions, then to Coborn's. That's when I noticed that I didn't have the shopping list with me.
Back into the van. I backtracked my route: particularly where I'd opened the door to get a photo of the new Ace Hardware place. No card with writing on it.
Into Wal-Mart, and a brisk walk to the pharmacy. Which, by that time, was closed. They take a late lunch break, which is great for people picking something up during a more conventional noon break.
For me, those lowered gratings weren't what I wanted to see.
However, they'd left the shopping list within inches of where I set it down - on a counter that's outside the barriers. Happy days.
Back to Coborn's, where I got more-or-less what my wife had written down. I'm told that it was close enough.
Then home and into the garage. (Good news - the door works now.) The family had been busy: my route to the inside door was blocked. So, outside and around to the front door, carrying about half the groceries.
Once inside, I shambled to the kitchen, set the groceries on the floor, and mumbled something about potatoes still being in the van, and my not feeling like getting them.
My temperature's now above 101: so at least I've got a good excuse for feeling the way I do.
Furnace Failure and a Storm Coming: It Could be Worse
By the time I got downstairs this morning, my wife had determined that the furnace was on the fritz, called the company that handles maintenance for that unit, and learned that they'd have someone out within eight hours.She also had the kids moving electric heaters into position.
She obviously had the situation well in hand, so I stayed out of the way. The rest of the day was a sort of Good News / Bad News scenario:
- Good News
The technician showed up well before the eight hours was up - Bad News
The part that failed isn't available locally- Or in this part of the state
- Good News
The part seems to be under warranty - Bad News
Without that part, it's downright dangerous to run the furnace - Good News
The technicians (a second one showed up, later) found the part, and are having it shipped out here - Not-So-Good News
If we're "really, really, lucky," the part will be here Wednesday- If we're "lucky," it'll be here Friday
Right now, my wife's distribution of electric heaters has kept the house quite habitable, and we have yet to pop a circuit breaker.
#3 daughter has a layered look with a hooded jacket, leg warmers, and a scarf on the outside. Even my son is wearing a sweater. So am I, of course.
There's a "winter weather advisory" for tomorrow, and we could get up to a half-foot of snow tomorrow. That's actually good news, since if it accumulates on the roof we'll have a bit of extra insulation. The (by my standards wimpy) 13-mile-an-hour wind might drift the snow up against the house a little, too.
This reminds me of the Good Old Days - and why I'm so glad that I don't have to live there.
Finally, we got a call from #2 daughter and her fiance, down in Louisiana. After my wife touched base, I talked with him - and have a project to get done.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Daughter's Boyfriend is Now Fiance
#2 daughter's boyfriend proposed last night, as the family was unwrapping Christmas presents. (We do the unwrapping Christmas Eve - not the traditional Christmas morning - to take a little pressure off the kids' nerves: among other things.)
After a very sincere hug and kiss, she said "yes," so now I've got a son-in-law-to-be, not a daughter's boyfriend, to talk to. I'll be driving the two down to the St. Cloud airport in a few minutes: they're flying to Louisiana
My almost-13-year-old son asked her what it's like to be engaged. She replied that, aside from a little added security, there's not much change in her feelings. She explained: "It's simply an outward manifestation of interior realities." Yep. We actually talk like that. Sometimes. She was sitting on the kitchen floor, eating a sandwich at the time.
It's T-minus 9 minutes now to departure now, so I've gotta get ready.
After a very sincere hug and kiss, she said "yes," so now I've got a son-in-law-to-be, not a daughter's boyfriend, to talk to. I'll be driving the two down to the St. Cloud airport in a few minutes: they're flying to Louisiana
My almost-13-year-old son asked her what it's like to be engaged. She replied that, aside from a little added security, there's not much change in her feelings. She explained: "It's simply an outward manifestation of interior realities." Yep. We actually talk like that. Sometimes. She was sitting on the kitchen floor, eating a sandwich at the time.
It's T-minus 9 minutes now to departure now, so I've gotta get ready.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Friday: All in All, a Good Day
My wife and #3 daughter set off to visit #2 daughter and the Red River Valley grandpa, my father. They've arrived safely in Moorhead, where #2 daughter lives.
That leaves me and our son here, on our own. My wife left detailed instructions for how to make French fries. That was for me. She also left a set of instructions for our son, covering the care and feeding of dad.
I have to hand it to my wife: She's showing great courage, leaving us two guys in charge of the house. So far, almost 12 hours after the ladies left, the entire house and its contents are intact. The only gaffe was a relatively minor one. It was forty minutes after the usual meal time, when I realized that there was a reason for my feeling so hungry.
Happily, the meal was a microwave-and-eat matter, involving food stored by my wife before she left.
My wife's anniversary present came, dropped off this afternoon by someone in town. Thankfully, I'll be able to surprise her on her return: probably Sunday.
Our son and I read Garfield, of course, at the usual time.
He asked me to leave him a note, telling him when to wake me up.
On a more serious note, my father's status is worrying me.
It's silly, of course: He's in his mid-eighties, and some early lung diseases, plus about a decade of smoking, caught up with him; and now his lungs are failing. We all die, sooner or later, and he appears to be going through that process.
I said "worry," not "concern." There's a difference. "Concern" is having rational misgivings, or realizing that something needs to be done. "Worry" is the emotional uneasiness that can come, even when there is nothing to be concerned about.
Being Catholic, and having been Christian for as long as I can remember, I have a fairly clear idea of what death involves, why it is inevitable, and how to view it. My father was born in a nominally Catholic family, 'wasn't anything in particular,' as he put it, when he married my mother: and had been active in the Methodist church after that. I know his beliefs, and how he lives them. I have little concern about his relationship with God.
Still, it's a worry. All my life, I've been able to kick problems upstairs to Dad. Even when I didn't talk to him about something, knowing that he's around helped.
I suspect that, sooner than I like, I'll have insights into how my wife felt, when her mother died.
There. That's enough brooding for now.
Goodnight.
That leaves me and our son here, on our own. My wife left detailed instructions for how to make French fries. That was for me. She also left a set of instructions for our son, covering the care and feeding of dad.
I have to hand it to my wife: She's showing great courage, leaving us two guys in charge of the house. So far, almost 12 hours after the ladies left, the entire house and its contents are intact. The only gaffe was a relatively minor one. It was forty minutes after the usual meal time, when I realized that there was a reason for my feeling so hungry.
Happily, the meal was a microwave-and-eat matter, involving food stored by my wife before she left.
My wife's anniversary present came, dropped off this afternoon by someone in town. Thankfully, I'll be able to surprise her on her return: probably Sunday.
Our son and I read Garfield, of course, at the usual time.
He asked me to leave him a note, telling him when to wake me up.
On a more serious note, my father's status is worrying me.
It's silly, of course: He's in his mid-eighties, and some early lung diseases, plus about a decade of smoking, caught up with him; and now his lungs are failing. We all die, sooner or later, and he appears to be going through that process.
I said "worry," not "concern." There's a difference. "Concern" is having rational misgivings, or realizing that something needs to be done. "Worry" is the emotional uneasiness that can come, even when there is nothing to be concerned about.
Being Catholic, and having been Christian for as long as I can remember, I have a fairly clear idea of what death involves, why it is inevitable, and how to view it. My father was born in a nominally Catholic family, 'wasn't anything in particular,' as he put it, when he married my mother: and had been active in the Methodist church after that. I know his beliefs, and how he lives them. I have little concern about his relationship with God.
Still, it's a worry. All my life, I've been able to kick problems upstairs to Dad. Even when I didn't talk to him about something, knowing that he's around helped.
I suspect that, sooner than I like, I'll have insights into how my wife felt, when her mother died.
There. That's enough brooding for now.
Goodnight.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Wife and Daughter on the Phone:
Hypothetical Wedding Plans
My wife and one of our daughters is on the phone as I write this. Happily, we've got one of those phone plans that are affordable, and have unlimited long-distance time.
The daughter in question doesn't have a husband-in-process, yet, but the two ladies were discussing weddings and related topics anyway.
Just as well to review ahead of the crunch, I suppose.
Something I hadn't thought of came up: what to put the groom in. A tux is expensive to rent, and crazy expensive to buy. Besides, I learned, 'they always foul up the size.' There's photographic evidence of that: One of my brothers-in-law's wedding pictures show a marvelously ill-fitting tuxedo.
My wife had me get a suit for the wedding, so I could use the thing later.
Today, I found out why she tagged along for the selection and fitting.
I heard my wife of a quarter century tell one of our daughters that the daughter needs to take her guy to the store, make use he picks out something suitable, and then make sure that the fitting is done right.
'He won't ask your guy, he'll look at you,' my wife said, about the clothing store's employee and the fitting of the suit. About the groom-to-be, my said, "he might as well be a mannequin."
What can I say? She's right.
The daughter in question doesn't have a husband-in-process, yet, but the two ladies were discussing weddings and related topics anyway.
Just as well to review ahead of the crunch, I suppose.
Something I hadn't thought of came up: what to put the groom in. A tux is expensive to rent, and crazy expensive to buy. Besides, I learned, 'they always foul up the size.' There's photographic evidence of that: One of my brothers-in-law's wedding pictures show a marvelously ill-fitting tuxedo.
My wife had me get a suit for the wedding, so I could use the thing later.
Today, I found out why she tagged along for the selection and fitting.
I heard my wife of a quarter century tell one of our daughters that the daughter needs to take her guy to the store, make use he picks out something suitable, and then make sure that the fitting is done right.
'He won't ask your guy, he'll look at you,' my wife said, about the clothing store's employee and the fitting of the suit. About the groom-to-be, my said, "he might as well be a mannequin."
What can I say? She's right.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Now, Something Funny: Not My Own
I haven't made an entry in this blog for quite a while.
And I'm not going to now, either. This isn't so much a post, as a note about a page I found online.
It's a funny (very funny) quantified list of how men can keep a woman happy. Reasonable, realistic ways: like uncloging toilets, checking out noises in the night, and not coming home late, smelling of booze and cheap cigars.
As a man who has been married for over a quarter century, I recognize most of the points: even where they don't apply to either me or my wife.
With the caution that name of the index this list is in is at best regrettable, and that some of the points in the list are mildly off-color, here's "Make her happy."
"(note the full stop)
"In the world of romance, one single rule applies: Make the woman happy.
Do something she likes & you get points. Do something she dislikes &
points are subtracted...."
And I'm not going to now, either. This isn't so much a post, as a note about a page I found online.
It's a funny (very funny) quantified list of how men can keep a woman happy. Reasonable, realistic ways: like uncloging toilets, checking out noises in the night, and not coming home late, smelling of booze and cheap cigars.
As a man who has been married for over a quarter century, I recognize most of the points: even where they don't apply to either me or my wife.
With the caution that name of the index this list is in is at best regrettable, and that some of the points in the list are mildly off-color, here's "Make her happy."
"(note the full stop)
"In the world of romance, one single rule applies: Make the woman happy.
Do something she likes & you get points. Do something she dislikes &
points are subtracted...."
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Family Life: Unglamourous, Maybe; Boring, Never
Having a family has very real rewards. For example, I haven't been bored since my wife and I started this one, about a quarter-century back.
Today, one of my daughters decided that her laptop's performance had become so execrable that the only reasonable thing to do was to back up all her data, re-format the hard drive, and re-install what she needed.
I think of that as the 'nuclear option' of computer maintenance.
Everything went smoothly until an activation code was needed. To be mercifully brief, she's now waiting for word to come back from a California warehouse. There may be news for her tomorrow.
Meanwhile, another daughter came home from her job of painting a barn with a two-foot-long splash of oozing red running down her right leg. Since she was walking as well as could be expected, after getting an uber-charlie-horse yesterday, I decided that it wasn't blood.
There had been an incident involving a ladder and a can of paint. An intense session with mineral spirits and some other ingredients my wife and daughter discussed seems to have dealt with the issue. At least, she says she won't be smearing paint onto things now.
I spent part of the morning, learning that last year's hip replacements are doing okay. Meanwhile, my father-in-law got his knees replaced yesterday. Part of this family is minding the shop while he's recuperating.
As for my son, he's been keeping a fairly low profile since starting me on a voyage of discovery on Monday. (Details in Computers and Kids: Home-Based Business vs Bionicles (June 25), Computers and Kids: the Sequel (June 26) and Computers and Kids: Return of the Sequel (June 27).)
Today, one of my daughters decided that her laptop's performance had become so execrable that the only reasonable thing to do was to back up all her data, re-format the hard drive, and re-install what she needed.
I think of that as the 'nuclear option' of computer maintenance.
Everything went smoothly until an activation code was needed. To be mercifully brief, she's now waiting for word to come back from a California warehouse. There may be news for her tomorrow.
Meanwhile, another daughter came home from her job of painting a barn with a two-foot-long splash of oozing red running down her right leg. Since she was walking as well as could be expected, after getting an uber-charlie-horse yesterday, I decided that it wasn't blood.
There had been an incident involving a ladder and a can of paint. An intense session with mineral spirits and some other ingredients my wife and daughter discussed seems to have dealt with the issue. At least, she says she won't be smearing paint onto things now.
I spent part of the morning, learning that last year's hip replacements are doing okay. Meanwhile, my father-in-law got his knees replaced yesterday. Part of this family is minding the shop while he's recuperating.
As for my son, he's been keeping a fairly low profile since starting me on a voyage of discovery on Monday. (Details in Computers and Kids: Home-Based Business vs Bionicles (June 25), Computers and Kids: the Sequel (June 26) and Computers and Kids: Return of the Sequel (June 27).)
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Helping Around the House
After supper today, I noticed a pile dishes, bowls, and things I don't know the name of, sitting on the counter between the sink and the dishwasher.
The thought flashed across my mind, "I can wash this!"
One item in particular seemed to call for special attention: what I discovered later was a crock pot. I filled it with a mix of water and detergent, and left the mixture to work its chemical magic on the baked-on grease.
A little later, my wife came to the kitchen, looked at the pot,and said "you probably shouldn't have immersed that."
She's right, of course.
The thought flashed across my mind, "I can wash this!"
One item in particular seemed to call for special attention: what I discovered later was a crock pot. I filled it with a mix of water and detergent, and left the mixture to work its chemical magic on the baked-on grease.
A little later, my wife came to the kitchen, looked at the pot,and said "you probably shouldn't have immersed that."
She's right, of course.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Stumble it
