I do realize I've been lax (yet again) about blog commenting. You can thank a bunch of typhoid babies at my local daycare center for that, this time. So, I'm posting this then M and I are headed out for a walk in the 75 degree/sunny weather, and then I'll be doing some grocery shopping (you will appreciate this after you read further). I will be making my rounds later tonight and catching up with all of you once Miss Snotty McSnotty has gone to sleep (please God, please for 12 hours straight).
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The Amy-Charles marital saga continues:
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
Our honeymoon was a cruise to the Bahamas. That’s the furthest we’ve been. But had I not gotten myself knocked up last February, supposedly I would have been taken to Italy or Spain last summer. There’s always 2010, though, is what I say.
Who has the craziest exes?
Charles has the most exes, but I think I have the craziest. It’s my poor boundary issues, and the fact I seem to be attracted to men who also have poor boundary issues. And also, I seem to pick selfish men with large, gaping character flaws. Charles is the only man I've ever dated who didn’t have poor boundary issues or a Grand Canyon-sized character flaw. I mean, he had other issues. But none of them involved boundaries. And he’s not selfish, and he has a strong, good character.
I’m not sure why I was thrown into Charles’ Life Path. Probably to teach him how to better manage his blood pressure without the use of medication. And to close pantry doors without complaining.
Who has the worst temper?
Me, though I’m pretty good about keeping it in check until I’m alone. I have this odd, please-like-me desperate approach to people, and to lose my temper in front of others…even my own daughter and husband…would just embarrass the bejeebus out of me.
I can't even do it with my first graders, and if you've ever worked with groups of 6-7 year olds, you'll understand what a magical feat this is. .......One year, I had this student teacher who told me she was so impressed with how I handled behavior problems. Here's how I handle behavior problems: I get down on their eye level and speak to them in a very quiet, low, dangerously calm voice. And I tell them what they will stop doing, what they will stop doing this very minute. And then I tell them they don't want to know what will happen to them if they don't stop that behavior. And I make sure they know I'm very, very serious about it--don't even think about testing me because I'll win and they'll lose.
My student teacher was all, "Wow, that was like watching THE GODFATHER, but without the violence!" And I thought, Yeah, but you didn't see the internal right vs. wrong struggle going on inside of me.
Which is so weird, because when I'm driving alone, I have no problem screaming like a crazed banshee at another car’s driver. Or swearing like a salty sailor when I stub my toe, alone, in my bedroom.
Who does the cooking?
Lately, me. I’m not sure how this happened, but it has, and so, fine. I’ll keep doing it until someone gets botulism and dies. But Charles is better at it. He’s my very own Bobby Flay, if Bobby Flay was a cut-throat negotiator who cried over basketball games.
Who is the neat-freak?
I’ll let you judge. Let’s use grocery shopping at the Amy-Charles abode as an example:
When I do the grocery shopping, I grab a piece of paper (usually a long envelope or when I can’t find that, I just rip off a piece of newspaper), think of how the supermarket is laid out and which section I feel like starting in that day, and I begin scribbling weird, scratchy letters for items that we may or may not already have but I feel like we don’t have them, so I go ahead and write them down. Maybe I’ll change my mind while I’m in the store, I don’t know.
I have food and non-food item categories on my list, but they’re defined only in my head. In fact, if I gave you my ripped off newspaper grocery list and asked you to do my shopping, you would wonder if somehow my 4 month old had gotten hold of the newspaper and a pen and you wouldn’t know where to begin. You’d probably wonder how I dressed myself that morning, let alone stayed in one piece all day.
When Charles does the grocery shopping, he goes with a neatly typed, computer-generated, printed out, very categorized, pre-made list (X’s by the items he’ll need this trip, things of particular importance highlighted). Also, while he’s at the grocery store, he sticks to his list. He doesn’t pass by the Amy’s Organic frozen food section and suddenly realize he feels like going on an organic Indian-Thai fusion kick this week for lunch. He also doesn’t spend 20 minutes internally debating over crunchy vs. smooth vs. Jif vs. organic peanut butter, even though peanut butter’s not even on his list, and he only grabs one trashy celebrity gossip magazine while waiting in line to pay, not five plus an Oprah magazine…oooh! And a Ladies Home Journal because it has an article about what tired moms do to please their husbands in bed and also Julianne Moore is on the cover and Julianne Moore is really, really cool.
And then, when he gets home, he lays all the items out in ABC order and places them in logical areas of the pantry. And he closes the door.
Who is more stubborn?
Me. It’s me. Everybody says so. My mom says so...usually while telling a “listen to what Amy used to do when she was five” story. My brother says so...usually while telling a “listen to what Amy used to do to me even after I asked her to stop” story. And Charles says so...usually while telling a “I just don’t understand why she won’t do this, this, or that, especially when she admits she knows she needs to do this, this, and that and that doing this, this, or that will save her time and make our marriage run so much more efficiently” story.
Everybody just sympathetically pats him on the shoulder after these stories while I stand with my arms crossed going, “Oh, I see. So it’s like that again. Let’s all pick on AMY day. Well, I’m not doing it. I said I wasn’t going to do it and I’m not doing it. No, not even if they make it a law. They can carry me and my sorry ass to prison and make me clean prisoner toilets dripping with poop all day and I STILL won’t do it.”
They tell me I said the same thing as a 7 year old when told to brush my hair.
Who hogs the bed?
I say: Charles. He’ll tell you: Amy. But listen to this: Charles has invented the “Bed County” idea. And so, there’s this imaginary line down the middle of our bed. The right side is Charles County. Charles County has the remote, the alarm clock, an unobstructed view of the TV, and easy access to the bathroom late at night. Amy County is the left side. Amy County has a nice view of the back yard. And that’s it.
Who wakes up earlier?
Charles. It’s bizarre. And that’s all I have to say about this. Well, that and I think it’s really sweet that on most Sundays he buys me a paper and an Everything bagel with light cream cheese from Einstein Bros. He’s got my back like that.
Where was your first date?
We met for drinks at sunset at a restaurant in Atlanta’s Piedmont Park called The Park Tavern. And then we went to Camille’s, which was an Italian restaurant in the Highlands, but it’s closed now. And then he took me to Blind Willie’s for blues music. And we were supposed to get dessert in Midtown Atlanta, but I had to go home.
And so, the moral of this story is: I was almost freaking fabulous, but I decided to go home before I found out what being freaking fabulous felt like. Which only made me more intriguing to him. And now we’re married. The End.
Who is more jealous?
I think we’re both equally jealous people. For one thing, we’re both Pisces. And Pisces people are notorious for being clingy. For another thing, we’re both on the co-dependent spectrum, with me being more severely codependent than Charles. And co-dependent people are notorious for being clingy AND insecure. And last, we both love being in or around water, and water lovers are notorious for drowning their sorrows with chocolate martinis or vodka cranberries, and everybody knows people who drown their sorrows are just asking for trouble.
How long did it take to get serious?
I needed some time to plot revenge process what happened with Steve J. from Douglasville, GA. Who not only married that chick in a matter of mere weeks after he swore to me he was going to take it extremely slow before ever marrying again after having such a nasty first marriage/divorce…AND soon ended up as a 40-something dad, after he swore to me he was done having children because he didn’t want to be a 40-something dad. AND he lied to Ms. The 10th Commandment Applies to Everyone But Me when he was on the phone with her...while I was sitting right there in front of him watching him do it. He was lying to me, too, but doing it directly to my face. I’d say it took balls to do this, but that would imply Steve J. from Douglasville has something worthy to offer society.
I am so sorry. That last sentence was far too much information, and uncalled for. Totally, totally uncalled for and I apologize. It was a true sentence. But uncalled for. I also apologize if you had a small child in the room while you read that.
Who eats more?
Man. We are BOTH food addicts. I can’t even answer that. Also, this reminds me: I need to hop back on the Weight Watchers wagon. AGAIN.
Who does the laundry?
Both of us, but Charles actually washes, dries, and folds it up. As opposed to Amy, who washes it then lets it sit there for a couple of hours or days, then dries it and lets it sit in the dryer for a couple of hours or days, and then lets it sit, unfolded, in the laundry basket while picking and pulling from it as needed until Charles says something like, “Hey. Could you fold that stuff already and put it away? It’s driving me nuts.”
Who's better with the computer?
I’m better at keeping up with cool technology, but I think Charles is better at the actual components of computer programs like Wordsoft and Excel. Charles excels at Excel spreadsheets. I get confused just opening that program.
Usually, when Charles and I have discussions about the internet, they go like this:
AMY: Good gravy, listen to THIS: CJ’s inappropriate ex-girlfriend flung a THONG at him. A thong! On facebook! Where she knows his wife will see it! And so M called earlier and asked me to go over to CJ’s facebook and post a note about how inappropriate flinging facebook thongs at people is. And I did--I think I said something like, "What is this? Facebook won't show pictures of moms breastfeeding but we can throw thongs? That seems highly inappropriate to me."
And then this OTHER guy, I don’t know him and I forget how CJ does, writes a note that goes: “Who’s that ho flingin’ thongs at MY man?” and our friend H said the note I left was unacceptable because I was way too nice in it, and so she goes on CJ’s facebook and says: “Um, flinging virtual thongs at other people’s husbands is really trashy. Get your OWN man.” And so, then, M left a comment about it that just said: “Classy.” But the thing is, I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, because you know—maybe that girl was just flinging thongs at everyone on her facebook friend list, even the girls. And so now she feels like a big facebook floozy. I mean, well. I guess she sort of is—because, honestly, who flings thongs at married people over the internet?? What do you think? I mean, what comment would you have left?
CHARLES: ………And you guys are HOW old?
The End of the end. **
**There were more questions to this survey, but on some I knew I couldn't answer without giving way too much information or I couldn't answer magnamiously and thus would be inviting the Wrath of Spouse. If you're fine with your spouse/significant other not speaking to you for a week (or, alternately, you welcome a week of spousal/significant other silence) and would like to share too much information on your blog, go HERE, copy and paste, and have at it. **
4 comments:
Again, hilarious post!
I imagine a conversation with you would be much like you right. Am I right?
I particularly like the County Line War brewing in the bedroom. I sleep balled up in the upper corner of the bed. I've never been a bed hog. And really, my husband isn't either. But he hogs the comforter. He'll roll over taking the majority of the comforter with him in a death grip. The next morning he denies this and says I push the comforter on him. It has caused me to begin wearing sweat pants to bed. On special nights, I wear my sexy sweats.
And you and I could totally grocery shop together. Actually, I'm impressed that you make a list as I rarely do. And it is kind of weird because I make so many lists in my life. Basically, I buy whatever begs to be put in the cart. It can be troublesome as the husband does much of the cooking and I forget the foods for certain recipes. When I cook, I cook some meat, heat up a vegetable and make some rice or pasta. No recipes to follow.
Oh, and the low, serious voice works wonders on kids. It was how I managed to scare the crap out of many a misbehaving child. I work much better with a class or small group of kids and not with large crowds. The crowds scare me.
Again, great post!
Such a nice post, Amy. And funny. You are funny anyway, as you know.
Your husband seems very even and calming and the way you describe him reminds me a lot of my other half. (He does a lot of the cooking, and is far far far more domestic than I.)
:-)
I hope you are having a good Sunday. Take care.
Hope your week is going well, Amy. And I left a gift for you on my blog.
Beth-this IS how a conversation with me in real time is. Except the quips don't come as fast, and also I've been told I occasionally talk like Phoebe from FRIENDS. I don't break out into my own version of "Smelly Cat" though.
I think I accidentally gave my sexy sweats to goodwill on an intense cleaning spree. I feel a trip to Target coming on!
E-I say we get your SO and my C together and let them calmly barbeque or something, while we practice not being domestic. Domestic is so over done.
And hooray! A Lemonade award! Once I figure out how to post it, I will be Queen of Lemonade (I like to mix mine with a little ice tea in the summer--just to keep it interesting)
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