by Faith St. Clair
THIS POST IS A DIRECT DIVERSION FROM THE TOPIC OF THE WEEK
“Honey, where is the peanut butter? I can’t find any in the pantry?” he asks as, I suspect, he stands about two feet outside of the pantry looking in.
“It’s on the left, towards the back corner about waist level.”
“Hmmmm….left……corner…….oh! Here it is! Found it.”
“O.k. Gotta go.”
“Ummmm…have you seen my favorite blue pullover?”
“What?” I thought I heard him ask another question right before I hung up the phone.
“My favorite blue pullover?...The long sleeved one that has that little faded sun spot from being in the closet peep window – I can’t find it.”
“No, you’ll just have to look in the laundry room under the stack of clothes waiting to be folded or in the downstairs laundry basket or in our hamper or maybe in that little stack of clothes you have piling up on the floor at the foot of our bed.”
“Hmmmm.”…silence. My guess is that he’s thinking. And I’m pacing. “I’ve looked.”
“I don’t know what to tell you then, sorry, honey.” I say as fast as I can.
“Well I thought I saw it just the other day”… (more thinking).
“Honey, I’ve really got to go. I’ll call you later when we finish this evening.”
“O.k…I”ll look again.” He says like a puppy dog loping off without finding his favorite chew toy.
“Bye, love you.”
I hung up and ran back into my business conference before missing too much more of the information.
I tell you, going away on business is sometimes just not worth the effort. Maybe I ought to stay home and keep my brain its little pea size. I mean, as long as its enough to contain peanut butter and faded shirt positions, what else matters, right?
I dearly love my husband. He is charismatic, has a big heart and, most of all, he loves me. But it just amazes me that a college professor, a four-time Emmy-award winner, and a man who has lived over ½ a century can’t seem to accomplish the simplest of tasks on his own.
He often goes grocery shopping. He doesn’t mind, most of the time, and he likes to cook on occasion, but his efforts to go to the grocery store, so that I can get other things done often defeats the purpose. He will call me from the store…
“Hey, did you get cut sheets in the mail?”
“No, I haven’t picked up the mail.”
“Well, there’s Granny Smith apples here for $1.29 a lb. I thought I saw them somewhere for $ .99.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Oh, there’s eggplant on sale, should I fix some of that?”
“That would be great.”
“O.k. I’ll get some.”
Five minutes later.
“There’s this all-natural jam here…..” Silence. My guess is he’s reading a label.
Sure enough, he starts to read aloud the ingredients to me on the phone only he’s mumbling because he’s really just reading them to himself. After he gets done reading (including all the caloric, fat and fiber intake) he says, “Well it’s $2.50 do you think it’s worth it?
For as much as I want to tear the phone apart, some patient wife somewhere from the suppressed depths of a consciousness I didn’t know existed, arises and stupidly asks, “How many ounces?” I rolled my eyes at myself the minute I asked! Jimminy Cricket! How much time was this saving me?
“Just buy what you want, honey. I don’t care. If you want it, get it.”
He’s adorable, but he’s clueless sometime, bless his little heart.
My friend says that you can say anything about anybody as long as you codify it with, “bless his/her little heart” at the end. That way, you’re not being mean or disrespectful. It kind of adds a little empathy to the gossip or judgement you just placed on them. Try, it – it works.
“She is out of her mind! - bless her little heart.”
“Can someone get any uglier? - bless her little heart?”
“Wow! He’s neurotic! - Bless his little heart.”
“He doesn’t have a clue – bless his little heart.”
We do a lot of blessing around our house. I’m sure I’m blessed a lot by the people around me.
No wonder I’m always so happy!