Posted by
William D. Dannenmaier on Friday, December 28, 2007 9:01:25 AM
This morning, I proudly announced to by bride that I was successfully buttoned and zippered. In response to her muted applause, I told her, “Growing older is a day by day achievement.”
Occasionally, Sheila and I have disagreements. At present, we are on a campaign to lose weight. She does well with less food in her stomach, but I get hungry, so I fill a side plate with vegetables. She calls them relishes. Today, I pointed out to her that beets are not relish, even if pickled they are still vegetables, similarly cabbage is not a relish, even if cured with red pepper, cucumbers are not relishes ... At that point she interrupted me and proclaimed, “When cucumbers become pickles, they are relishes. So are the others.” I replied, “They are still vegetables, relishes are like ‘I relish you.” “You are supposed to.” “Or maybe the word was ‘ravish.’” “That too,” she replied.
Since going on my enforced diet, my breakfast three mornings a week consists of one soft-boiled egg (unless I sneak in a piece of buttered, jellied toast or two.) I like soft-boiled eggs. The white should be hard, there should be a minuscule hard layer of yellow around the yoke and the remainder of the yoke should be runny – to add flavor to the white. This morning the egg was perfect. Normally it isn’t: sometimes the white runs out when the egg is cut, more often the yellow resembles a new form of concrete. My bride watched me open the egg and noticed its perfection. “You are really enjoying that, aren’t you?” she asked and continued, “You may think the usual variety I provide you is an accident. It isn’t. If I provided perfect eggs every time, you would soon be bored. You would never get pleasure in breakfast. This way, I keep your morning one of anticipation and provide real pleasure every so often. This is part of being a thoughtful and loving wife. You are a very lucky man.”
I pointed out to my bride that when morning came she fed the dogs first, the cats second, the fish third and the stray cat that has taken up residence on our front porch fourth, then me. When I asked if there were any significance to this she replied, “They complain, you don’t, but if it makes you feel any better, I feed you before I water the plants.”
An article in Fox news reported that scientists have noted an increase in allergies among children raised in current pristine environments, noting that farm children have fewer allergies than children from less germ and bacteria laden environments. When I asked Sheila if she had read the article, she hadn’t, and when I briefed it to her, her immediate response was, “What a good mother I’ve been!” (In a recent dream, dust bunnies were multiplying and surrounding her.)
Do you know why so many men are hard of hearing? It is God’s gift to husbands.
Well, it’s income tax time again. As usual, I fear I shall be going to prison after I submit it. After all, it is much simpler for the IRS to catch and convict an old man making out his own return of a five dollar mistake than it is to catch or convict a billionaire of a million dollar “oversight” by this team of professional accountants.
Anyway, despite my predictament as an abused husband, a member of the multitude of abused husbands, I wish a Happy New Year to all, even wives.