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.
There was a time when I loved without question and learned to live with all the idiosyncrasies of the recipient of my love.
So what if there were no compliments or support for the things I like to do?
So what if my need for recognition went unrecognized?
I persevered and loved out of purity and ignorance.
But there came a time when I was no longer tolerant.
And I felt abused and always angry.
I suffered more and more from the lack of caring.
And there was never any support for the things I was trying to do.
That was when love turned to hate.
And the hate began to grow.
Eventually I complained bitterly at every opportunity and all my friends knew I wanted “out” of the relationship.
This misery and resentfulness went on for 3 years!
And I wound up hating the same old cell phone more and more.
Two days ago I was given a brand new Samsung Galaxy S8 cell phone. And Wow!
I am so impressed with the hidden person inside and I know I will never be alone again.
The little person tells me when I’m doing a good job, sends congratulations, and is a how-to source when I’m lost.
And I haven’t found them all but I just know there are happy words of encouragement that are written out or spoken aloud on this wonderful little cell phone!
The phone is ultra-responsive to my touch and has another hidden fellow inside named Bixby. Bixby has already memorized my speech and will answer questions any time I ask. And I don’t even have to be polite and say, “Hi Bixby!” I can just shoot off the questions and be as rude as I like.
Yes -The Galaxy S8 is a winner! I LOVE MY NEW CELL PHONE!
It is a highly personal interactive little gadget that offers options I have never seen before.
And with a masterful teacher (my son) who launched me on my way through adapting to yet another mystery of the technological age, I am once again, in love.
I LOVE MY SAMSUNG GALAXY S8! THANK YOU FOR THE GIFT OF LOVE FOR MY BIRTHDAY BILL. AND THANK YOU FOR THE GIFT OF LOVE FOR MY BIRTHDAY SON!
Ummmmm……. I do need a little help with a few little issues though……
Like why isn’t the darnedthing responding to my thumb on the keyboard? I still have to hunt and peck with my index finger! Grrrrrr!
We had dinner with our friends, Pete and Phebe last week. We see them often and look forward each time to hilarious conversations that leave us literally doubled over with laughter.
I am always concerned there will be nothing to say
since we have probably said it all by now.
But no story gets left untold and nothing escapes our howling laughter.
Pete is wearing Phebe’s hat in this photo and you an see he is cracking himself up and the silliness is oddly catchy.
We are supposed to be among the distinguished elderly now, behaving with quiet maturity and an air of pride and elegance to make our families proud.
It may be fortunate that our families are not around to witness actual behavior!
We even make political arguments insanely funny (maybe because things are so insane in that realm anyway).
And what young folks would want to listen to those zany memories of our younger selves? We relive ridiculous moments with humongous chuckles.
Teasing the young wait staff at our local restaurants is part of the unplanned plan too. They may be secretly snickering at those old folks who are having such a great time, but I think they know we love them.
On this last visit to The Sheridan Livery Inn, in Lexington, Virginia, an old favorite restaurant, a familiar waitress greeted us with, “Oh No! It’s those crazy people again!”
I took that as a fabulous compliment and so did the others. Besides, it started us off laughing and we laughed right through the meal. Surely all that laughing is beneficial for digestion.
How lucky we are to have such people in our lives who are fun, funny and always funnier – they are the catalysts for life’s comic relief. And just think of all the new memories we are creating to laugh about later.
But at what point should one begin to think about starting over?
I am giving serious consideration to reliving my life with new loves.
No, I don’t mean acquiring new relationships.
Well, maybe so. Maybe some relationships. Relationships with places and things.
Long-time favorites once loved and counted on are either going, going, going, or gone.
The downtown gift shop I loved and even wrote advertising copy for is selling out!
The health food store I depended on for expensive delicacies and youth restoring vitamins has already closed its doors.
Long nylon nightgowns that helped with silky, sleepy, bed-turning are now considered “Vintage” and impossible to find unless you want to sleep in something slept in by somebody else.
Big terry cloth pot holders with pockets are missing. They may be another vintage item. (Hurrah Ebay!)
My quilted barn coat is getting frayed from 12 years of use and is irreplaceable. The store that carried it no longer carries it. Neither does anyone else.
Favorite tea flavor (Vanilla Caramel) is gone from our local grocery stores. Is there such a thing as Vintage Tea? (Yay! Amazon!).
Every day something else is NA (Not Available – To be youth oriented, I am practicing talking in initials) and the search begins for replacements.
“Such is life,” my sainted mother used to say.
She never told me I would lose so many old loves and would have to start life over.
I had an easy day yesterday. No hard labor, sweating or dropping food on my shirt. Everything I wore was still clean and crisp by bedtime. So in an odd change of habit, I hung everything up to air overnight (except the used underwear of course) and decided to wear the same things today (with fresh under garments of course).
After dressing and when I was all set to go, I met up with Bill and said, “Good morning Bill!”
“You look nice,” he replied.
“It’s exactly the same thing I wore yesterday,” said I.
“Oh.”
There was not much to say after that, but there is nothing like Morning After Laughter in yesterday’s clothes.
Terry was my boss. It seems like a long time ago. It was. It was 35 years ago. We worked together at a national association for printers.
Our friendship began then.
He had a way of turning worries into hopes and office blahs into happy occasions. Terry always stood out. Some people are like that – unforgettable.
If you met him only once you would remember and smile. And everyone around him wound up laughing and recognized there was a light that surrounded him. And you would remember his energy and his kindness.
As we worked together, he encouraged me to write for membership development and promotion. And then he plopped me into managing international meetings. These were big ego boosting callings for a housewife-just-returned-to-the-work-force. He introduced me to self confidence and it was like throwing a fearful swimmer into deep water and yelling from the sidelines, “You can do it!.” I thought I would drown but I didn’t.
After eight years, Terry decided to leave the association in favor of setting up his own consultancy. At his Farewell Party, I remember saying, “This is a sad day as we go our separate ways. We will probably never cross paths again.” And he answered, “Nope. I predict our friendship will last into old age.”
Barbie, Terry, Bill, Dor and Suzanne 1989
Terry, Suzanne and Anna Banana
Suzanne all grown, Bill, Dor, Barbie standing and Terry
And he was right. Terry, his wife Barbie, and his daughter, Suzanne, stayed our close friends for the next 27 years!
They visited often and time rushed by through my son’s and their daughter’s growing up years. And even when my husband and I moved here to the Shenandoah Valley and Terry and his family remained in Washington, DC, they came to visit. We would all sit on the deck in the evenings sharing memories and laughter, or around the Christmas tree or the table.
We had a contest called “Who can give the worst gift?” Some of the offerings were hilarious. It began with the Ape swimming pool float I gave them. He named it Anna Banana, and went on from there. I remember the pink plastic flamingos they gave us to line the front walk.
The last time Terry and his sweet family were here was in late October 2012. He wanted to come again after that. But, Terry died April 10, 2013 and I have been trying to write about our 35 years of friendship ever since.
Terry with Awful Hat Gift To Him and Awful Elk with Antlers to Us
He was a dear friend.
When I think of him, I hear echoes of the song, Unforgettable.
Unforgettable, that’s what you are Terry, and you are sorely missed.
I am going to meet a favorite blogger friend and her happy husband – in the flesh – in person!
I can hardly wait!
I have never met a blogger friend in real time before.
But…..
What if I am disappointed in who she is?
What if she is disappointed in who I am?
I think you can tell a lot about people from how they write, not necessarily from what they actually say.
I have an instinctive feeling that this blogger friend is every bit as bubbly, kind, intelligent, fun and decent as I perceive her to be online, and her photographs are wonderful too.
I am laughing now, reminded of the commercial where a young woman says, “Everyone knows they can’t put anything on the internet that is not true. I met my boyfriend on the internet. He is a French model”. And the boyfriend arrives and is obviously a gross charlatan who says, “Bon Jour” with an impossibly poor French accent.
Is it safe to bring an internet pal into your life and naively believe she is who she says she is?
Is she as concerned as I am or is she plunging fearlessly into this meeting of perfect strangers?
Will meeting in person ruin our happy, anonymous friendship?
What if….
What if….
I am also reminded of my psycho dog, Rozie, who is convinced every day that the sky is falling and that it will fall directly on her head.
O.k., so I tend to be an alarmist. I am also known for worrying (guilt too, but that is for another blog post).
Do watch for a future post about this momentous meeting of two good friends who have never met. I will let you know there who she is and if she is an ax murderer!
If you don’t hear from me though, please notify the authorities.
Virginia Views 