Home Away from Home

Did you know that hotels do not wash their comforters or bedspreads? Can you just imagine what’s on them after so many different people have slept in the beds? Did you know that bed bugs feed off of human flesh?

This reminds me of a time when my husband and I were first married. We got married fairly young, just out of middle school. We didn’t have a huge amount of money when we were first married–some things never change! We survived on corn flakes-the generic ones-and love.

Anyway, one weekend after saving up some nickels I decided to surprise my H. with a romantic night away in the North Carolina mountains (we lived in SC at this time otherwise it would have been a long drive). Most of the nice bed and breakfasts were out of my nickel-range so I was elated when I came upon a less expensive room. This room was to look out over the river and sounded charming.

My husband was thrilled about the night I had planned and didn’t even care where we went-imagine that? So, we got in the car and drove up into the mountains. After a few wrong turns we made it to our idyllic retreat.

The living room area was actually not too bad rather cozy. The owners greeted us–she had most of her teeth and I don’t know if her husband had any as he just nodded, his straw hat bobbing up and down. The proprietor showed us our romantic room over looking the river. The bed was one of those cushy beds where you can see the middle sagging after decades of use. The river was not rushing by; it was a creek with a bit of water, a paper cup, a tire, and an old boot.

I was ready to rush out of there–my husband was ready to spend the night. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings, but I knew I couldn’t stay there. It was when we were introduced to the other guest when I begged H. to tell them we couldn’t stay. He was about 7 feet tall and when I looked up at him I swear the music from Psycho was playing in the background. He smiled at us and nodded and I was ready to run. I pulled H. to the side and begged him to tell them no thank you. He quickly said that it wasn’t going to work for tonight and the three looked as though they lost their best friend. I breathed a sigh of relief as we drove home back to our clean comforter.  

Matrimonial Salon Duty

We are trying to save money. We are in the bay area of California and are trying to save money. That was one of the funniest things I’ve ever written! Anyway, I do like to enhance my natural blond hair with a some of the blond that faded away with experience, stress and childbearing.

In Spain it was cheaper to get my hair highlighted than it is here. There was a price to pay though. I had to sit through a lecture or two about child rearing or any number of things.

When I first moved to Spain and was just learning to communicate I had a hairstylist that kept a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he cut my hair. I never wanted him to highlight my hair for fear that my hair would ignite. He knew how to cut my hair though so I continued going to him for awhile and came home from every appointment with that nice Camel-Shampoo freshness.

When we moved into a new town I found a new hairstylist. She was very good at what she did, but her mother always had to give me a lecture about something. My hairstylist loved to listen to American music and asked me to translate the lyrics all of the time. Every visit was amusing or annoying. I don’t like to talk when I get my hair done. I like to relax and that didn’t happen in the salon in Spain. They did a great job, but it wasn’t relaxing.

The first time I went to my last hairstylist I had just gotten back from being in the states for awhile. I was trying to save money and had asked my husband if he would highlight my hair. He was very thorough with the highlights. Do you remember how the angel’s head would light up on that old Touched by An Angel tv show? Well, that’s what I looked like all the time. I scared people when I walked into a room. Anyway, when I went back to Spain the hairstylist asked what happened to me. I explained and got a huge lecture. Her mother said that it wasn’t my husband’s fault my hair looked like that; it was my fault for being so stupid and letting him touch it!

So, I let her enhance my hair until I moved back to California. That’s when I went to the hair beautify aisle at the store and bought the box. I carefully put it in the bathroom and begged my husband to try again. He reluctantly agreed to give it another try–commending me for my thriftiness.

I quietly sat still as my husband expertly embellished my hair. Well, no, I whined and begged him to do a good job. Reminded him of his children I birthed, and watched his every move. After he was done I reminded myself that I like the color orange and that hair grows back.

My hair didn’t fall out at the shampoo stage so it’s now for the mirror-test. Well, um, money saved $130 (less money for a hat). Bonding time with my husband–priceless.

“We” are pregnant?

No, I’m not pregnant and my husband is not pregnant. As a matter of fact my husband has never been pregnant. I just want to make it very clear “we” cannot be pregnant unless the “we” is two women. To be pregnant is to carry a fetus. At this time in history men cannot carry fetusus (I so wanted to say feti) maybe when we get the cow to jump over the moon men will carry fetusus. “We” cannot carry the fetus, “we” cannot feel the contractions, “we” cannot push the baby out and “we” cannot breastfeed.

Now I don’t know how this got started. Did it start with that 1994 Junior movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger in his pre-governator days? Did people really think that carrying the fetus was a shared experience after watching that movie? Did some man decide that the woman was getting too much attention so he decided to say that “we” were pregnant? I don’t know but “we” can make a baby and we can expect a baby to come, however, “we”cannot be pregnant.

Now, if when people are saying that “we” are pregnant as in we are “abounding in fancy, wit or resourcefulness” then that is correct. I don’t, however, think that is what people are meaning to say unless it is a coincidence that she happens to be carrying a fetus at the same time she and her husband are pregnant as in “abounding in fancy, wit or resourcefulness.” I do have to say my husband and I have been in that situation three times — “abounding in …. ” while I was pregnant.

Last night as I was ranting about the “we” pregnant thing to my husband he mentioned that royalty could say “we are pregnant”  as in the royal we. Because the royal crown is considered to belong to the people, apparently, when royalty gets pregnant it’s the whole country carrying the fetus.  Okay, I’ll let all of England carry those royal babies, but here in the US can “we” stop being pregnant? We are done with this post now. We are going to get something to eat.

Pears? Umm no, Pearls…

Sometimes, when there is time, I have my husband proofread my posts before I publish them. He usually has a good eye and catches my mistakes (yeah, I make mistakes.) So after I wrote my last post The Debate Over the Evening Meal , I took a shower while he read over it. He came in while I was taking a shower and said he published it. Now, I always, like to re-read one more time before I hit publish so I was a little nervous that he sent it out for all to read.  Anyway, I figured it was okay and we went to bed.

Yesterday morning I got up to read the post again and found a typo. I had typed pears in the place of pearls in my last paragraph. When my husband got home, I mentioned that he missed a big typo.

“I did? What?”

“Well, I had pears instead of pearls.”

“Yeah, I saw that and thought you meant pears.”

“Why would I mean pears? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would I ‘make sure my pears are in place?’ I was referring to, you know, Leave it to Beaver and how she was always in pearls. What are pears? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding!”

“Well, they are sometimes referred to as melons — pears, melons, they’re both fruit!”

“You thought I was referring to my girls? You thought I was making sure I fixed those before you got home? How would I fix them? They refer to women having a pear shape, but not that part of the anatomy being the shape of a pear –that’s not a compliment.  Please don’t hit the publish button until I have re-read it again.”

“I thought it was cute.”


The debate over the evening meal…

My husband and I disagree. It’s a rather large disagreement we’ve had for 17 years now (we started dating when I was very young — we’ll say 11). He now tries to brainwash the kids and that is where I draw the line. I prefer to call the last meal of the day dinner, and the middle meal of the day lunch. I don’t like the word “supper”. In my family we ate breakfast, lunch and dinner. We didn’t eat supper. My husband wants to eat supper everyday only he won’t get it here — I will only fix him dinner.

Since I knew this argument was not going to be over just because I’m the women and he should give in to my wishes, I had to consult some scholars. First was Maven’s word of the day and he made the point that “supper” was associated with the working class. Apparently my husband’s family worked and mine just loafed around and ate dinner. We must have a fortune hidden somewhere to put us in this higher class. Maven’s word of the day also mentions that The Supper Book, a cookbook, refers to supper as a very informal meal and dinner as a multiple course meal.

What Maven’s also mentioned is that the word “dinner” probably came from a French word meaning you eat the first big meal of the day. So, dinner is really breakfast?

I decided I needed to search more to understand this supper-dinner debate and consulted Fannie and Vera’s Site for New Civilians; that site mentions that in the mid-1800’s people (those with money) were eating five meals a day: Breakfast, Luncheon, Tea, Dinner and Supper. So, we could adopt this practice; I will fix Dinner and my husband will eat Supper sometime in the middle of the night when I am asleep.

Now according to Fannie and Vera again, both dinner parties and supper parties were referred to in that time frame. According to them, dinner parties lasted “up to three hours featuring many courses and agonizingly long conversations” — that does happen sometimes at my house. My son seems to have agonizingly long conversations and my husband and I eat our food in many courses since we have to help our kids with their food (is reheating in the microwave considered another course?). Now the supper party was usually given during a dance or entertainment. Well, I have to give my husband that one because there always seems to be dancing and entertainment in our house.

So, has this helped my husband and my debate? Not really, I’m still going to make and eat dinner, and if he wants supper, he’s going to have to make it himself! (I’m kidding, I usually greet my husband with his pipe and slippers at the door so he can go to the study until I finish making his dinner. I always sneek to the powder room before he comes home to fix my hair, put on a dab of perfume and make sure my pearls are in place. )

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