Life’s a Compromise

Life is a compromise.

Like marriage.

Especially marriage.

I may be an expert on that.

• What should we have for dinner when I love cheese and my husband hates it?

Compromise:  I do not cook with cheese, except for myself or if I am craving Mac n’ Cheese, we eat out.

• How warm or cool shall we set the thermostat for our temperature comfort levels?

Compromise:  It’s always a little too warm for me in here, but a little too cool for him.

• To avoid being deemed a “back seat driver”, how quiet should I be as a passenger in the car when I know he’s about to make a wrong turn?

Compromise:  I make little noises and white knuckle the hand grip.  I think he sees all that with his great peripheral vision.  If none of that works, I gasp out loud.

•  What movie should we watch when he loves spy thrillers and I love romantic drama?

Compromise:  We have separate viewing rooms and meet between films.

Daily Prompt: Compromise

 

 

 

 

 

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Locked in a Bathroom for Thanksgiving

This is Chicha Bonita, a very cute old lady pup who loves people.

She was the Welcome Receptionist as we celebrated Thanksgiving with friends in Lexington, Virginia.

Bill and I met a whole passel of new and interesting people there.

And by the time the turkey got to the table, we loved it all – the people, the food and the party that was getting louder and louder.

We missed our family and friends who live “out west”.

We missed our grandgirls.

And it felt strange not to be hosting the great event.

But even though we were a little shy at first, I suddenly turned around to see Bill slouched on the couch watching football with the guys.  And next time I looked he was laughing and talking and making everybody else laugh too.

I was still feeling a little shy though,

at least until a SOS Thanksgiving trauma

when I managed to lock myself in the bathroom!

The door would not open, period!

Really?  How mortifying!  How long would I have to stay in there?

I pounded but no one heard.  They were all either in animated conversation or cheering.

Well, they would surely miss me at dinner

and notice the empty seat at the table wouldn’t they?

I was contemplating climbing out the window into the cold night.   Nah.  Too dark. Too cold.

I kept pounding and wrestling with the doorknob.

Finally there was a calm comforting voice on the other side of the door.  “Don’t worry,” said the voice, and “Does anyone have a credit card?”

Was he planning on buying his way in or what?

“There is a tiny little latch to the side of the doorknob,” said the voice.  “Lift it.”

With some concentrated effort I lifted the latch.  And the door magically opened to one of the family’s handsome sons.

“My hero!” I said.  “Thank you for setting me free.”

And though I was tempted to swoon, I started laughing out loud instead.

How unglamorous to be locked in a bathroom during Thanksgiving festivities!

But with that, I was suddenly relaxed, happy, and ready to party!

Not counting that red-faced predicament, it was a traditional Thanksgiving –  a delightful, everything-you-would-expect Thanksgiving to be and more.

It was a wonderful group of giving loving happy people full of laughter, stories and the joy of sharing.  And by the way, the food was fabulous too.

A  special thank you to our lovely friends for taking in two more “strays” (Bill and me) to join in that celebration and Thank you Chicha Bonita for presiding.

 

 

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