Relationship Status

Daniel and I are in a relationship that’s categorized as “complicated.”  He and I disagree on occasion, and even argue heatedly with one another.  He usually wants me to do things his way, while I think I am right and my way is better.  Other times, however, Daniel and I travel Life’s pathways contentedly, basking in comfortable silence and companionship.  Daniel is my GPS.

First of all, let me say Daniel is an amazing guy.  He doesn’t constantly need my attention, and delights in giving me some space while he takes some time off to do his own thing.  I don’t need him with me every trip I take in the car, particularly if it’s around town or places I’ve been before.  I’m fine by myself.  Daniel trusts me, and I trust him.

The two of us also respect one another.  Daniel exudes intelligence and is always up-to-date.  He automatically knows his way around the countryside, seldom making a mistake.  His math skills are legendary.  He quickly and accurately calculates distances and time, solving multiple problems simultaneously.  At the same time, Daniel appreciates my abilities to make sure we always have gas in the tank, and he knows I am good at planning every aspect of our trips, from hotel lodgings and finances to discovering area attractions and stops.  Our time together is wonderful as well as exciting. 

Sometimes Daniel and I irritate one another, but isn’t that what happens in most relationships?  Some people squeeze the toothpaste in the middle, and sometimes Daniel deliberately doesn’t tell me to slow down when rough rail crossings are coming up.   I’m sure I annoy Daniel at times, too, with my impetuosity – after all, not all service areas or restaurants sound as good as others, so I sometimes change my mind capriciously.  Those, however, are minor issues that come with day-to-day living.  We accept one another as we are, and revel in our journey through Life together. 

Occasionally, Daniel and I disagree on the best route.  We both insist we know best, and an argument will ensue.  Both passionate  creatures, Daniel and I do our best to present our different views to each other.   Daniel likes the most direct route, while I like the route that also takes traffic into account.  Daniel, being the gentleman, usually concedes to my choices, with only a hint of exasperation in his voice as he says, “Follow the highlighted route.”   

After a few more heated exchanges, Daniel usually allows me to have my way despite his impeccable knowledge of the area, by simply telling me, “Recalculating;”  I smile as I know he is allowing me to have input, too, despite his objections, and I feel special as well as safe in his arms.  We’d be lost without one another.

What more could anyone want in a relationship?  Daniel and I have good communication skills, trust one another, share mutual respect, and enjoy being together.  We care deeply about one another.  May all of you find as wonderful of a relationship as Daniel Garmin and I share.

Truth or Lie?

Some women (and perhaps some men, although I only have the female perspective) possess a little-known, but extraordinary skill they use without thinking.   They have mastered such a level of sophistication that ordinary mortals often do not recognize when it’s employed.  Many significant others, logical as they are, often appear unaware of this invisible yet effective super power.

No, not everyone can wiggle their way out of a potentially dangerous encounter.  Some females, however, seem to have a natural propensity for not quite explaining everything.  They tell the truth, but they don’t tell it all.  These women subscribe to the theory that it’s best not to divulge what someone doesn’t need to know.  No, this is not a “half lie.”  I prefer to call this more aptly, “stretching the truth.”

“Honey, is that new?” 

 

“No, dear, I’ve had this dress for awhile.”  She’s not lying. It’s been in the closet for a month and a half.  She has, therefore, had the dress for awhile; she just hasn’t worn it.  She’s telling the truth, but not telling more than she needs.  She is “stretching the truth.”

Her husband, if he is concerned, will not be upset about her spending what he perceives as unnecessary money on more clothes.  There will be no disgruntlement. There will be no grievance about finances.  All will be pleasant, and he will probably even say, “You look good in it, Honey.”

Stretching the truth also can prevent hurt feelings in many instances.   If a friend wears an outfit that no one but a gorilla at a zoo, or someone choosing a costume for Halloween would wear, the friend might ask, “Do you like this?”

Even though I am an honest person, if I know someone is uber sensitive, I might temper my reply by utilizing a little tact and “stretching the truth” by saying, “It’s certainly different.  I don’t think anyone else will have an outfit like that.” 

 

I’m not lying.  It is different. Hideously different.  I just don’t want to say, “It’s so different, no one in their right mind would wear that,” or, “It looks like someone beat that outfit with an ugly stick.”  "Stretching the truth" can certainly make life more pleasant.

 When my sister-in-law called to interrogate me about who put the “Happy 40^th Birthday” signs all over her front lawn, she asked, “Did you do it?”  I laughed and replied honestly, “No, I did not put the signs in your yard.” 

 

I told the truth.  I just didn’t tell everything.  I had my husband, at the time, go down in the cover of darkness, and plant the signs I had purchased, in her yard for me.  If she would have asked if I knew who planted the signs, I would have had no other choice but to say, “Yes.”

 

“Stretching the truth” certainly can make life more enjoyable for everyone, as well as help prevent hassles.  “Stretching the truth” can also be considered a form of tact which provides a morally right alternative for that urge to lie when backed into a corner, with unpleasantness or hurt feelings ready to pounce.  This is, indeed, the truth.

Dishwasher Mystery

Two broadcast personalities (one female, one male) from an early morning show commented this week on what they thought the worst daily/weekly household chore was, and to my surprise, they selected number two on my list – unloading the dishwasher.  Even more of a surprise, unloading the dishwasher topped the survey list shared on air by their colleague.

What is it about unloading the dishwasher that makes so many folks cringe?  There doesn’t seem to be a logical explanation.   Even people I’ve asked can’t explain why they, too, dislike unloading the dishwasher so much. 

 Is it that folks are allergic to cleanliness? Do we secretly wish we were still kids playing in the garden dirt?  Are we, instead, afraid if we are too clean, we will have to work hard to keep up the perfection? 

 I willingly load my dishwasher, as I’m sure many of you do.  I will spend several days after running it, however, ignoring the fact the clean silver and dishes cry each time I pass by to be let out.  They beg me to unload them and put them back in their rightful places, and I ignore their pleas as long as I can.  I brazenly strut past them and sashay around the kitchen.  

I admit I even take clean silverware and glasses from the dishwasher to use, rather than just spending time to unload my lovely built-in model.  Maybe I think if I keep raiding the clean load, the unloading problem will disappear as there will be nothing left to unload.  The problem with this thinking, however, is that dirty dishes and glasses pile up in the meantime – the dirty ones have nowhere to go.  I can’t put the dirty things directly in the dishwasher and get them out of my sink or off my counter if the dishwasher is still waiting to be unloaded.

Time is not the problem.  It doesn’t take much time to unload the dishwasher or to put away the clean items.  I can probably unload mine in five minutes.  Dusting takes much longer, as does vacuuming, folding laundry, and other chores, yet many of us choose unloading the dishwasher as our least favorite chore.  Heck, I’d rather clean the toilet than unload the dishwasher and put away all the cleaned items.

Perhaps some people who think the clean items are out of sight (in the dishwasher) and therefore, out of mind, live in a fantasy world, fooling only themselves.  So what are these folks doing with the dirty dishes?  Hiding them inside the oven?  Don’t they realize someone may decide to preheat the oven before baking, and all their lovely dishes will melt, making a giant mess?  It’s happened to someone I know quite well with the initials C.S., so don’t attempt this disguise at home (even when you have unexpected company arriving).  Unload the dishwasher in a timely fashion, please.  You’ll be much happier if you do. 

Fall Fanfare

Once again, Fall lurks around the next corner, bringing about back-to-school excitement and fall activities to communities all over the country.  As I enter a local store this past week, two young children dressed in clothing with logos to support their group beg with outstretched hands holding empty cups for money for their team.  Sadly, they are one of many who will appear in the next few months.

Don’t get me wrong – I like supporting young people and their causes, and often do.   I applaud their dedication and contributions to society.   I believe in teaching young folks to get involved, be positive, and to give back.  However, I do not support begging.  

I gladly support kids who do something to earn money for their groups.  I would gladly hire kids to pick up sticks in my yard, and I would pay them far more than the going rate to help them with their cause.  I love kids with the energy and initiative to hold bake sales to earn money, and I often pull into a car wash and simply give a donation as my car doesn’t usually need washed.  I’m glad to help.  There’s a host of other things kids can also do to earn money for their teams and schools such as walking dogs, and organizing a walk or run or swim for dollars that people could pledge, along with more traditional selling of popcorn and magazines.

Parents and coaches need to rethink what they are teaching their kids. They are sending out the wrong message.  Begging should not be an option, even for a good cause. 

 *I realize this blog may stir and fire up some parents who automatically switch to a defensive mode anytime someone mentions children and change.  With my comments, I’ve also suggested some other options which I think should be considered as improved alternatives to current practices.  I do not condone begging.

Attending?

R.S.V.P. – from the French, “Répondez s'il vous plait” – please respond.

R.S.V.P. appears throughout our lives on many invitations.  Hosts need a response, either a “yes” or a “no” to their invitation.  No answer, or not replying, is not an acceptable option. 

Most invitations include a card for the invited to simply check “yes” or “no,” as well as a stamped, pre-addressed envelope to make it easy to respond.  How difficult is that? 

Not surprisingly, The Grinch probably does not respond to any invitations as he probably doesn’t receive any.  Actually, if he did receive one, however, he’d probably take perverse delight in responding with an emphatic, “No,” unlike the discourteous people in our culture who can’t be bothered to respond, or erroneously think by not answering they are saying they are not attending.  Even The Grinch is more polite than they are.

Even though he seems like loads of fun, the Trix Rabbit probably doesn’t respond to any invitations either because he doesn’t appear too bright, and in all probability, can’t read.  I’m guessing his friends understand his plight, and only issue verbal invitations to him. 

Casper the Ghost, on the other hand, due to his nature, appears unexpectedly anywhere; he just shows up.  At least he’s polite and mannerly despite his transparent condition.  Showing up without responding is not an option for anyone but Casper.

If you haven’t responded to an R.S.V.P., how do you explain your discourteous behavior?  Maybe you think you, or one or two others not responding, won’t make a difference, but what if 10 or 20 or more people do the same thing?  The host, of course, must provide the caterer an exact number, so you either cost the host extra money for the no-shows, or there are not enough dinners for all the guests.  Even a third grader can understand this math.

If you were invited to a gala hosted by Hillary Clinton, Jimmy Fallon, Michael Jordan, or anyone you admire, wouldn’t you respond to the invitation?  Of course, you would.  So what’s your problem?  Do you think you are so powerful, like Miranda Priestly from “The Devil Wears Prada,” that you don’t have to reply to anything? What's your excuse for not responding, Lame Brain?