Tree Trek
Soon all across the country, it will begin....men will go on Tree Trek.... the infernal quest for the perfect tree. I was married to a Tree Trekker. I still attend Tree Trek-Anon.
Tree Trek only affects men who insist on a real tree. It begins slowly. Their mates suggest a nice artificial tree. Many of the new ones are beautiful. They make the argument that an artificial tree saves the life of a noble fir. They are fire resistent, reuseable. They don't shed any sharp nettles that she is still vacuuming out of the carpet in May. She doesn't have to nag him to take it down and schlepp it away to the dumps since we have no garbage pick-up here. She makes a good case, but nooooOOOOooooo. HE has to have a 'real tree'......
First he has to decide when to get it. Can't get it too soon or your pay full retail. Can't get it too late or you'll have no selection. Tree Trekkers usually won't buy a tree until less than a week before Christmas, by then they figure the prices will be starting to drop.
Next, where to get the tree? It must be the as FAR as you can POSSIBLY drive in a day and still get back home by nine! And this trip can not be made alone..... After all, it is Christmas and picking the tree is a tradition! You WILL go with him and you WILL enjoy it. So Mama packs the kids in the car with toys, pampers and enough food for three days. The kids are excited about getting the tree as you put them in the car. As the car leaves the driveway, they begin to ask, "Are we there yet?"
The tree must be purchased from the same place where they got 'such a deal' last year. It may also be purchased from where a co-worker said they got a great deal. Many Tree Trekkers go to tree farms where the workers chop down the one HE picks. Trekkers can spend hours looking at over 5000 potential candidates before they find the perfect tree which is always the furthest possible point from the entrance! Severe Tree Trekkers even insist on chopping down their own trees. A Tree Farm worker's favorite entertainment is watching Weekend Warriors prove to themselves that they are still men of the Great Outdoors by trying to chop down their own trees and perform a traumatic amputation of their leg at the same time....
The next funfilled event is tying the tree on top of the car while all the passengers wait inside the car...big fun. This must be done when the kids are at their hungriest and grumpiest peak. A freezing cold night adds to the festive atmosphere. The tree is tied tight enough to keep the it in place, but loose enough not to break any branches. Years of practice have honed the Tree Trekkers skills. He performs this task with mathmatical precision, taking into account the aeronautical lift of an evergreen traveling at 75 miles an hour, the weight of the car, the drag caused by the door handles, and the air speed velocity of a coconut laden sparrow (you have to watch Monty Python's Holy Grail to get that joke).
Finally, with his kill tied atop his car, the Trekker heads home. He is jubilant. He retells the tale of how he got the best tree and for five dollars less than they were charging yesterday. This joyous occasion reminds him of treks past. He reminensces about when his father took him and his Mom and siblings on tree treks. While he's lost on memory lane, his wife who has combated tired, bored children for the past eight hours, discreetly takes her Stress Tabs (M&M's) out of the diaper bag, turns towards the window and eats them.
At last, the tree is home! She wrangles the kids to bed, changes to bedclothes and steels herself for the final assault of the Tree Trekker...
The tree must be put up tonight and it must be plumb! When she gets to the living room, he is spinning the tree around to determine the best side. She dutifully gets behind tree, the nettles poke through her flannel gown and get damn personal. Her hands are full of sticky sap. He stands across the room.
"Okay, tilt it to the right. No, that's too far, back a little. Nope, too far, I said a little bit, not a foot. Okay, that's better. Now hold it." He runs to another corner of the room and starts again.
"Oh man, it's way off from this angle. Lean it forward, little more..... you're not going to fall into the tree...c'mon, a little more, STOP. Don't move." He runs to back to the first corner...... this goes on for quite awhile until she threatens to give Lorena Bobbitt his name and a thousand dollars. Now all she has to do is hold this big tree perfectly still while he lays under the tree and screws the tree into the stand.
I recall once when I was eight months pregnant and too big to move the tree around, I got to lay on the floor and turn the screws. I couldn't get under the low branches and ended up tipping the tree over. My Tree Trekker was so mad, he wouldn't help me get off the cold linoleum floor. If I hadn't found a Lego table to help me to my knees, I'd be there still.
Hallelujah, the tree is up ! Things go smoothly after that, the tree gets decorated and the Christmas shows up on time. The next battle is how long the Tree Trekkers wants the tree up.
My ex insisted on having the tree up until after the Super Bowl. After the "Stupor Bowl" I would strip the tree and offer to help him take it down and drag it outside. He would put me off and warn me not to nag him. Well, I'm a patient woman.
Valentines Day. I would offer to hire someone to take the tree down. He refused, as a dedicated Tree Trekker, he would take care of that himself. Sort of completing the circle, he chopped it, he would drag it to the curb.
St. Patrick's Day. I would start to feel very discouraged. Most of the nettles were gone and what was left was totally brown. I used to worry what people would think of us with a tree up in March, then I remembered, he hated people in the house, we never had company......what a relief!
My ex's record for having a stripped, brown, nettleless Christmas tree up was June 6. On that day I rebelled and hired a man to haul it out of the house. He said not a word, but went straight to his work.... Dragged out the tree and said, "Who's the jerk?"
Someday I may find the courage to date again. Among my list of qualifying questions, right after, 'Breathing, owns a boat, likes board games, will take me back to Venice', and I will add, 'likes artificial trees'.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
N.A.H., America’s Party of Poopers
Denver recently renamed it’s annual Christmas Parade the “Winter Holiday Parade”. All symbols of Chanukah and Kwanzaa are allowed, I’m not sure if they decided to allow Santa, but no Nativity symbols are allowed and no “religious holiday songs” are allowed either so that cuts down the selection to Frosty the Snowman and a few others. Booooorriiiinnng......
According to Newsweek, roughly 92% of America is Christian, 4% is Muslim and 3% are Jewish and 1% are atheist. I’ve never met anyone of any faith who objected to other people celebrating their faith. People of faith celebrate faith itself. Last time I checked, attending a Christmas or Hanukah party doesn’t mean you adhere to that faith, it means you are sharing the joy of other’s holiday’s. Chanukah celebrates the rededication of the Temple after history’s first recorded war fought for religious freedom. Chanukah, which took place 163 years before Christmas, made Christmas possible. Without that victory, is it possible the Jewish diaspora would have started in 163 B.C instead of 63 A.D. Joseph never would have met Mary and the rest wouldn’t be history.
Besides, a Chanukah party is tremendous fun, as is a Christmas party and Kwanzaa is coming up fast as a great holiday that celebrates family and community and also fills in the gap nicely between Christmas and New Years. Denver, in it’s attempt to offend no one, offends everyone by pretending that Christmas doesn’t have a religious component. I think it’s safe to say that both Christmas and Chanukah have religious components (duh!) and thank G-d they do!
If everyone in America has to stifle their celebrations to avoid offending the atheists, let's give them their own holiday. Let March 11th be National Atheist Holiday, NAH, for short. Why March 11th? Because I checked the calendar and not a damn thing is going on anywhere in America on March 11th. The atheists can get together and not sing, not drink and not put up any decorations. They can not cook any special foods, not give any gifts and not get any time off from work. They can put up images of Jean Paul Satre in their windows and not be nice to any one for no apparent reason. If that doesn’t work I say we tie them to giant candy canes and shoot their asses to the North Pole. I am sick of them being the national party poopers!!!
One lousy atheist objected to prayer in schools and we changed our national policy. Now they’re coming after Christmas.... I say we head them off at the pass and drown them in eggnog. Okay, maybe drowning people doesn’t quite fit into the Christmas theme...how about Ebenezer Scrooge’s suggestion... we boil them in their own Christmas pudding and bury them with a stake of holly through their hearts! Still a little too strident? Alright... how about we make them spend the night after Christmas in Santa’s barn with all the reindeer who have been eating cabbage all night? The gas will make them beg for mercy.
Could you imagine being a kid with atheist parents at this time of year? Not even a shot at a present....
“That’s right Johnny, we believe in NAH. We are the official Party Poopers of America, designated to make sure no one is having more fun than us. There’s no G-d, no Santa, no Easter Bunny, none of that nonsense. You’re here until your dead and that it. So get that Toys R Us flyer with the circled toys off of my bed, you get nothing. You can’t stay up late because there’s nothing to watch for, I took us off Santa’s mailing list. Why are you crying?”
Wait a minute... wait a minute... atheist parents don’t have to go broke at Christmas buying presents... they don’t have to make an effort to be nice to relatives they’re not fond of... they don’t have to cook any big holiday meals.... they don’t have to do all that expensive drinking... they don’t have to find last years Christmas decorations...they don’t have to find the right tree.... they don’t have to argue about where to spend Christmas Day....they don’t have to return gifts...they don’t have to keep gifts they hate and use them so as not to offend the giver....they don’t have to vacuum pine needles out of their carpets till May....maybe I spoke too soon... there’s a lot of advantages to this atheist stuff....
Nah, just say nah to NAH. The fun of the holidays far outweighs the aggravation, and if it doesn’t, add rum in the eggnog till it does! As for me, I will sit by the window and look into the night as I do every year until I hear, “MERRY CHRISTMAS to all and to all a good night....”
Denver recently renamed it’s annual Christmas Parade the “Winter Holiday Parade”. All symbols of Chanukah and Kwanzaa are allowed, I’m not sure if they decided to allow Santa, but no Nativity symbols are allowed and no “religious holiday songs” are allowed either so that cuts down the selection to Frosty the Snowman and a few others. Booooorriiiinnng......
According to Newsweek, roughly 92% of America is Christian, 4% is Muslim and 3% are Jewish and 1% are atheist. I’ve never met anyone of any faith who objected to other people celebrating their faith. People of faith celebrate faith itself. Last time I checked, attending a Christmas or Hanukah party doesn’t mean you adhere to that faith, it means you are sharing the joy of other’s holiday’s. Chanukah celebrates the rededication of the Temple after history’s first recorded war fought for religious freedom. Chanukah, which took place 163 years before Christmas, made Christmas possible. Without that victory, is it possible the Jewish diaspora would have started in 163 B.C instead of 63 A.D. Joseph never would have met Mary and the rest wouldn’t be history.
Besides, a Chanukah party is tremendous fun, as is a Christmas party and Kwanzaa is coming up fast as a great holiday that celebrates family and community and also fills in the gap nicely between Christmas and New Years. Denver, in it’s attempt to offend no one, offends everyone by pretending that Christmas doesn’t have a religious component. I think it’s safe to say that both Christmas and Chanukah have religious components (duh!) and thank G-d they do!
If everyone in America has to stifle their celebrations to avoid offending the atheists, let's give them their own holiday. Let March 11th be National Atheist Holiday, NAH, for short. Why March 11th? Because I checked the calendar and not a damn thing is going on anywhere in America on March 11th. The atheists can get together and not sing, not drink and not put up any decorations. They can not cook any special foods, not give any gifts and not get any time off from work. They can put up images of Jean Paul Satre in their windows and not be nice to any one for no apparent reason. If that doesn’t work I say we tie them to giant candy canes and shoot their asses to the North Pole. I am sick of them being the national party poopers!!!
One lousy atheist objected to prayer in schools and we changed our national policy. Now they’re coming after Christmas.... I say we head them off at the pass and drown them in eggnog. Okay, maybe drowning people doesn’t quite fit into the Christmas theme...how about Ebenezer Scrooge’s suggestion... we boil them in their own Christmas pudding and bury them with a stake of holly through their hearts! Still a little too strident? Alright... how about we make them spend the night after Christmas in Santa’s barn with all the reindeer who have been eating cabbage all night? The gas will make them beg for mercy.
Could you imagine being a kid with atheist parents at this time of year? Not even a shot at a present....
“That’s right Johnny, we believe in NAH. We are the official Party Poopers of America, designated to make sure no one is having more fun than us. There’s no G-d, no Santa, no Easter Bunny, none of that nonsense. You’re here until your dead and that it. So get that Toys R Us flyer with the circled toys off of my bed, you get nothing. You can’t stay up late because there’s nothing to watch for, I took us off Santa’s mailing list. Why are you crying?”
Wait a minute... wait a minute... atheist parents don’t have to go broke at Christmas buying presents... they don’t have to make an effort to be nice to relatives they’re not fond of... they don’t have to cook any big holiday meals.... they don’t have to do all that expensive drinking... they don’t have to find last years Christmas decorations...they don’t have to find the right tree.... they don’t have to argue about where to spend Christmas Day....they don’t have to return gifts...they don’t have to keep gifts they hate and use them so as not to offend the giver....they don’t have to vacuum pine needles out of their carpets till May....maybe I spoke too soon... there’s a lot of advantages to this atheist stuff....
Nah, just say nah to NAH. The fun of the holidays far outweighs the aggravation, and if it doesn’t, add rum in the eggnog till it does! As for me, I will sit by the window and look into the night as I do every year until I hear, “MERRY CHRISTMAS to all and to all a good night....”
Sunday, December 11, 2005
My Christmas Wish List
Is It Too Much To Ask?
I’m one of those people who never sleeps through the night. At around 3:30 am, without fail, I get up and prowl. I check E-mail, read, and of course, watch TV. I have all the informercials memorized. I love gizmo’s, but it’s time they invented some things that I really want. So here is my Christmas wish list.
I want someone to invent flat LCD panels that attach to cabinet surfaces and give me a readout of all the foodstuffs in the cabinet. If there’s a hidden can of water chestnuts, I want to know about it before I get a new one. I want it equipped with a cereal and snack level monitor so I know how full all the boxes are.
I want a milk and egg alarm in the fridge. I want a blinking warning light to go on when there’s only a quart of milk or six eggs left in the fridge.
I want an electric shock to fry the hand of anyone who puts an empty or nearly empty carton back in the fridge.
I want a vacuum, any vacuum, that works as good as it’s commercials.
I want that vacuum to have these settings: Regular Dirt, Damp Dirt, Sand, Pet Hair, Christmas Pine Needles, and a special sonar beam that spreads out ahead of the vacuum and beeps an Earring Found! alarm.
I want expandable shoes for children. If my luggage has an zipper that expands the volume two inches, I want a tab I can peel away, like a plastic milk tab, that extends shoes one inch in length. That gives a parent a two paycheck lead on getting new shoes for the kid.
I want America to manufacture again. I am tired of supporting the Chinese economy. I don’t want Wall (of China) Mart to be the only place with bargain prices. I will pay a little more to know I am supporting another American worker.
I want a fragrance that will last the whole work day.
I want someone to invent an electric blanket that has pet zones on it that can be individually heated. For those of us who sleep with pets, usually not by choice, think how great it would be to hit the “Pet Zone” button on the blanket control and then the cat or dog would sleep on the warm spot and not against your legs so you can’t turn over!
I want flashing runway lights for men using the bathroom in the dark...if you live with a man, I don’t need to explain further.
I want soft bottom tubs. If they can give a pool a soft bottom why not a tub?
I want people who make glasses to invent a ‘soft focus’ coating for men’s glasses to prevent them from seeing our wrinkles clearly.
I want rolling luggage carts with seats at the airport so we can all sit and be comfortable while we wait for hours in an attempt to keep our airports secure in spite of our borders being wide open. It’s like locking the car on the ferry, absolutely pointless.
I want someone to invent a cat food that cannot vomited by any cat unless they are outside.
I want a Deer Locator display on my dashboard. No deer dies of natural causes on Shelter Island. It’s death by bow, bullet, or Buick.
I want mini vans to have a fold out changing table and drying station in the back to always have a clean place to change the baby and a way to dry off kids at that beach.
I want the grocery stores to have a separate lane for impatient people. A lane that will surreptitiously mist valium vapors at them while they wait so they don’t get irritable. We’ll call it the Regis Philbin lane. I adore his show. He puts the crank in cranky.
I want ‘reality shows’ to go away. I have enough reality. It’s all around me when I wake up and follows me around the whole day. Reality I’ve had, it’s mindless fun fantasy I need. Bring back Designing Women and Remington Steele.
It seems like the only time we’re allowed to enjoy fun fantasy shows is during the holiday season. Not fair I say! Bring on all the holiday specials and keep that light and happy spirit going! What? Is it too much to ask?
I’m one of those people who never sleeps through the night. At around 3:30 am, without fail, I get up and prowl. I check E-mail, read, and of course, watch TV. I have all the informercials memorized. I love gizmo’s, but it’s time they invented some things that I really want. So here is my Christmas wish list.
I want someone to invent flat LCD panels that attach to cabinet surfaces and give me a readout of all the foodstuffs in the cabinet. If there’s a hidden can of water chestnuts, I want to know about it before I get a new one. I want it equipped with a cereal and snack level monitor so I know how full all the boxes are.
I want a milk and egg alarm in the fridge. I want a blinking warning light to go on when there’s only a quart of milk or six eggs left in the fridge.
I want an electric shock to fry the hand of anyone who puts an empty or nearly empty carton back in the fridge.
I want a vacuum, any vacuum, that works as good as it’s commercials.
I want that vacuum to have these settings: Regular Dirt, Damp Dirt, Sand, Pet Hair, Christmas Pine Needles, and a special sonar beam that spreads out ahead of the vacuum and beeps an Earring Found! alarm.
I want expandable shoes for children. If my luggage has an zipper that expands the volume two inches, I want a tab I can peel away, like a plastic milk tab, that extends shoes one inch in length. That gives a parent a two paycheck lead on getting new shoes for the kid.
I want America to manufacture again. I am tired of supporting the Chinese economy. I don’t want Wall (of China) Mart to be the only place with bargain prices. I will pay a little more to know I am supporting another American worker.
I want a fragrance that will last the whole work day.
I want someone to invent an electric blanket that has pet zones on it that can be individually heated. For those of us who sleep with pets, usually not by choice, think how great it would be to hit the “Pet Zone” button on the blanket control and then the cat or dog would sleep on the warm spot and not against your legs so you can’t turn over!
I want flashing runway lights for men using the bathroom in the dark...if you live with a man, I don’t need to explain further.
I want soft bottom tubs. If they can give a pool a soft bottom why not a tub?
I want people who make glasses to invent a ‘soft focus’ coating for men’s glasses to prevent them from seeing our wrinkles clearly.
I want rolling luggage carts with seats at the airport so we can all sit and be comfortable while we wait for hours in an attempt to keep our airports secure in spite of our borders being wide open. It’s like locking the car on the ferry, absolutely pointless.
I want someone to invent a cat food that cannot vomited by any cat unless they are outside.
I want a Deer Locator display on my dashboard. No deer dies of natural causes on Shelter Island. It’s death by bow, bullet, or Buick.
I want mini vans to have a fold out changing table and drying station in the back to always have a clean place to change the baby and a way to dry off kids at that beach.
I want the grocery stores to have a separate lane for impatient people. A lane that will surreptitiously mist valium vapors at them while they wait so they don’t get irritable. We’ll call it the Regis Philbin lane. I adore his show. He puts the crank in cranky.
I want ‘reality shows’ to go away. I have enough reality. It’s all around me when I wake up and follows me around the whole day. Reality I’ve had, it’s mindless fun fantasy I need. Bring back Designing Women and Remington Steele.
It seems like the only time we’re allowed to enjoy fun fantasy shows is during the holiday season. Not fair I say! Bring on all the holiday specials and keep that light and happy spirit going! What? Is it too much to ask?
Monday, December 05, 2005
The Thermostat Wars Have Begun!!!
Therm Warfare
While everyone is pulling out their Christmas, Hanukah and Kwanzaa decorations, there is a silent war, a true ‘cold war’, going on in nearly every household in America. Even more so now, since fuel prices have soared thanks to the Halliburton frontmen in the Whitehouse, the Thermostat Wars have begun...
It’s a biological fact that when men get cold, blood flow increases to their extremities; arms, legs, hands and feet get an extra circulation boost to stay warm and continue hunting. When women get cold, blood flow decreases to their extremities and increases in their abdomen, to keep any fetus that might be lurking in there, at an even temperature. This evolutionary adaptation, really great during the Stone Age and all the metal ages, lost it's advantage around 1100 AD, when we began to see chimneys being built in northern Europe, which allowed people to go inside and get warm.
My research found a diary from that time recording the seminal moment when the concept of the chimney was born...
“September 1100AD.
Just taking a moment for myself this morning after stitching deerskins, before I make soap and start a venison roast for dinner. Jakob Hoffensnuffer proposed again. Such a nice man, but I told him, “Castle, schmastle. Figure out an indoor heating system or I might as well stay in this cave with my mother.”
“October 1100AD.
Moving today! Jakob invented a chimney! It's a funnel you put over a fireplace to draw off the smoke and keep the heat in the castle. Everyone’s coming to see it. Mother and I will be hanging tapestries all week and getting ready for the big cook-in next Thursday. Mother says it’s the best thing she’s seen since the wheel. What’s next? Sliced bread?”
99% of all the men I’ve ever met live comfortably between 65 and 70 degrees. It’s us gals that are the problem I’m afraid. Our internal thermostats go up and down with different stages of life and drive those around us nuts.
When we’re first married and prior to the kids coming, we fight with our spouses about keeping the heat up. The men plead, “Just wear a sweater!” But who wants to wear a sweater when we’re trying to look sexy 24/7? We know damn well this firm body is time limited so we better enjoy it now before child bearing forever flabs out our flat stomachs, nursing deflates our boobs and gravity wrecks the rest!
It’s at this age we learn to pop the heat as soon as he leaves the house. We develop an ability to hear his car coming down the street over anything. We can hear it over TV, stereo, phone calls, even in the shower. And as soon as we hear his car, we race through the house clearing jumps over furniture like an Olympic hurdler to reach that thermostat and turn it to down 65.
Then, we race to a neutral spot in the house, far enough away from the thermostat to throw off any suspicion he might have that we had the heat up the whole time he was gone, and just turned it down 2 seconds before he walked in the door. And when he says, “Geez, it’s hot in here!” We say, “Not really. I think the heat is on 65, you’re just cold from outside.” We give him a welcome home kiss and he realizes that we would never try to deceive him... Mission accomplished.
Then we get pregnant, also because of the thermostat.
Anytime a woman alone in a house with a man complains that she’s cold, he offers his favorite solution......sex (which seems to be a cure-all in his mind for anything a woman needs)... And sometimes we’re so cold, we say, ‘fine’. But now we’re warm and pregnant! Some solution!
But now, for the first time, we are finally warm, really warm....now HE’S begging to turn up the thermostat. I recall going to the movies with my hubby one November when I was seven months pregnant. It was 38 degrees outside. I was in a tee shirt, capri pants and sandals. He was freezing and I was comfortable for the first time in seven months.
During the child raising years, the thermostat wars rage. The men are too hot, the women are chilly, the kids are freezing. The heating bill arrives and the fights are huge. The thermostat is moved to 62 degrees and a machete is hung by the thermostat as a reminder that anyone who touches it will have their hands chopped off. That lasts until Dad leaves for work, then Mom pops the heat, and all the kids learn how to turn the knob down when they hear his truck....
Then... and here is where I genuinely pity the men.... menopause and all the years that lead up to it arrive. Personally, I can now sleep on a block of ice next to an air conditioner. If the temperature nears 65, I get anxious. At 70, I’m cranky and aggitated. If it hits 80 degrees, I’m stripping to my sunglasses. At 90 degrees, I go rabid and the fire department hoses me down and chains me to a tree so I don’t kill anyone. My children throw ice cubes at me which hiss as they melt on contact...
I have to admit, men are the noble long suffering victims of therm warfare. God bless them, everyone...
While everyone is pulling out their Christmas, Hanukah and Kwanzaa decorations, there is a silent war, a true ‘cold war’, going on in nearly every household in America. Even more so now, since fuel prices have soared thanks to the Halliburton frontmen in the Whitehouse, the Thermostat Wars have begun...
It’s a biological fact that when men get cold, blood flow increases to their extremities; arms, legs, hands and feet get an extra circulation boost to stay warm and continue hunting. When women get cold, blood flow decreases to their extremities and increases in their abdomen, to keep any fetus that might be lurking in there, at an even temperature. This evolutionary adaptation, really great during the Stone Age and all the metal ages, lost it's advantage around 1100 AD, when we began to see chimneys being built in northern Europe, which allowed people to go inside and get warm.
My research found a diary from that time recording the seminal moment when the concept of the chimney was born...
“September 1100AD.
Just taking a moment for myself this morning after stitching deerskins, before I make soap and start a venison roast for dinner. Jakob Hoffensnuffer proposed again. Such a nice man, but I told him, “Castle, schmastle. Figure out an indoor heating system or I might as well stay in this cave with my mother.”
“October 1100AD.
Moving today! Jakob invented a chimney! It's a funnel you put over a fireplace to draw off the smoke and keep the heat in the castle. Everyone’s coming to see it. Mother and I will be hanging tapestries all week and getting ready for the big cook-in next Thursday. Mother says it’s the best thing she’s seen since the wheel. What’s next? Sliced bread?”
99% of all the men I’ve ever met live comfortably between 65 and 70 degrees. It’s us gals that are the problem I’m afraid. Our internal thermostats go up and down with different stages of life and drive those around us nuts.
When we’re first married and prior to the kids coming, we fight with our spouses about keeping the heat up. The men plead, “Just wear a sweater!” But who wants to wear a sweater when we’re trying to look sexy 24/7? We know damn well this firm body is time limited so we better enjoy it now before child bearing forever flabs out our flat stomachs, nursing deflates our boobs and gravity wrecks the rest!
It’s at this age we learn to pop the heat as soon as he leaves the house. We develop an ability to hear his car coming down the street over anything. We can hear it over TV, stereo, phone calls, even in the shower. And as soon as we hear his car, we race through the house clearing jumps over furniture like an Olympic hurdler to reach that thermostat and turn it to down 65.
Then, we race to a neutral spot in the house, far enough away from the thermostat to throw off any suspicion he might have that we had the heat up the whole time he was gone, and just turned it down 2 seconds before he walked in the door. And when he says, “Geez, it’s hot in here!” We say, “Not really. I think the heat is on 65, you’re just cold from outside.” We give him a welcome home kiss and he realizes that we would never try to deceive him... Mission accomplished.
Then we get pregnant, also because of the thermostat.
Anytime a woman alone in a house with a man complains that she’s cold, he offers his favorite solution......sex (which seems to be a cure-all in his mind for anything a woman needs)... And sometimes we’re so cold, we say, ‘fine’. But now we’re warm and pregnant! Some solution!
But now, for the first time, we are finally warm, really warm....now HE’S begging to turn up the thermostat. I recall going to the movies with my hubby one November when I was seven months pregnant. It was 38 degrees outside. I was in a tee shirt, capri pants and sandals. He was freezing and I was comfortable for the first time in seven months.
During the child raising years, the thermostat wars rage. The men are too hot, the women are chilly, the kids are freezing. The heating bill arrives and the fights are huge. The thermostat is moved to 62 degrees and a machete is hung by the thermostat as a reminder that anyone who touches it will have their hands chopped off. That lasts until Dad leaves for work, then Mom pops the heat, and all the kids learn how to turn the knob down when they hear his truck....
Then... and here is where I genuinely pity the men.... menopause and all the years that lead up to it arrive. Personally, I can now sleep on a block of ice next to an air conditioner. If the temperature nears 65, I get anxious. At 70, I’m cranky and aggitated. If it hits 80 degrees, I’m stripping to my sunglasses. At 90 degrees, I go rabid and the fire department hoses me down and chains me to a tree so I don’t kill anyone. My children throw ice cubes at me which hiss as they melt on contact...
I have to admit, men are the noble long suffering victims of therm warfare. God bless them, everyone...
Friday, December 02, 2005
Santa Baby, I'd Like a Man....
Every year, those of us gals without guys to buy us expensive gifts at Christmas, lament our loss and secretly ask Santa to leave us a man under the tree....
What I Want in a Man, Original List, age 22 :
1. Handsome
2. Charming
3. Financially successful
4. A caring listener
5. Witty
6. In good shape
7. Dresses with style
8. Appreciates finer things
9. Full of thoughtful surprises
10. An imaginative, romantic lover
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 32)
1. Nice looking
2. Opens car doors, holds chairs
3. Has enough money for dinner at a place that has cloth napkins
4. Listens more than he talks
5. Laughs at my jokes
6. Carries bags of groceries with ease
7. Owns at least one tie
8. Appreciates a good home-cooked meal
9. Remembers birthdays and anniversaries
10. Tries something romantic to get sex at least once a week
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 42)
1. Not too ugly
2. Doesn't drive off until I'm all the way in the car
3. Works steady and splurges on dinner out occasionally, even if we only go to the restaurant HE chooses
4. Nods head when I'm talking and look conscious
5. Usually remembers the punch lines of his own jokes
6. Is in good enough shape to rearrange furniture and paint a room
7. Wears a shirt that covers his stomach
8. Learned from his first DWI it's better to drink at home because you don't need a license to drive a couch
9. Remembers to put the toilet seat down
10. Shaves and showers on the weekend if he intends to beg for sex
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 52)
1. Keeps nose and ear hair trimmed
2. Doesn't belch or scratch anything in public
3. Can operate an ATM without my assistance
4. Doesn't nod off to sleep while I'm venting
5. Doesn't retell the same joke unless he takes the time to embellish it
6. Is in good enough shape to get off couch on weekends
7. Can find his own damn glasses, wallet, watch and keys!
8. Appreciates a good TV dinner
9. Remembers my name high on the list of names he goes through when calling somebody
10. Doesn't bother me for sex unless he actually has a usable erection, or has taken viagra
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 62)
1. Doesn't scare small children
2. Remembers where bathroom is
3. Doesn't require much money for upkeep
4. Only snores lightly when asleep
5. Remembers why he's laughing
6. Is in good enough shape to open the door for the repairman I called
7. Usually wears some clothes around the house
8. Likes soft foods
9. Remembers where he left his glasses and teeth
10. Doesn't even think about sex unless he's showered, shaved and has a damn good piece of jewelry or gift certificate to Macy's ready at the bedside next to the lube.
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 72)
1. Breathing
2. Doesn't miss the toilet.
3. Has a fantastic life insurance policy
What I Want in a Man, Original List, age 22 :
1. Handsome
2. Charming
3. Financially successful
4. A caring listener
5. Witty
6. In good shape
7. Dresses with style
8. Appreciates finer things
9. Full of thoughtful surprises
10. An imaginative, romantic lover
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 32)
1. Nice looking
2. Opens car doors, holds chairs
3. Has enough money for dinner at a place that has cloth napkins
4. Listens more than he talks
5. Laughs at my jokes
6. Carries bags of groceries with ease
7. Owns at least one tie
8. Appreciates a good home-cooked meal
9. Remembers birthdays and anniversaries
10. Tries something romantic to get sex at least once a week
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 42)
1. Not too ugly
2. Doesn't drive off until I'm all the way in the car
3. Works steady and splurges on dinner out occasionally, even if we only go to the restaurant HE chooses
4. Nods head when I'm talking and look conscious
5. Usually remembers the punch lines of his own jokes
6. Is in good enough shape to rearrange furniture and paint a room
7. Wears a shirt that covers his stomach
8. Learned from his first DWI it's better to drink at home because you don't need a license to drive a couch
9. Remembers to put the toilet seat down
10. Shaves and showers on the weekend if he intends to beg for sex
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 52)
1. Keeps nose and ear hair trimmed
2. Doesn't belch or scratch anything in public
3. Can operate an ATM without my assistance
4. Doesn't nod off to sleep while I'm venting
5. Doesn't retell the same joke unless he takes the time to embellish it
6. Is in good enough shape to get off couch on weekends
7. Can find his own damn glasses, wallet, watch and keys!
8. Appreciates a good TV dinner
9. Remembers my name high on the list of names he goes through when calling somebody
10. Doesn't bother me for sex unless he actually has a usable erection, or has taken viagra
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 62)
1. Doesn't scare small children
2. Remembers where bathroom is
3. Doesn't require much money for upkeep
4. Only snores lightly when asleep
5. Remembers why he's laughing
6. Is in good enough shape to open the door for the repairman I called
7. Usually wears some clothes around the house
8. Likes soft foods
9. Remembers where he left his glasses and teeth
10. Doesn't even think about sex unless he's showered, shaved and has a damn good piece of jewelry or gift certificate to Macy's ready at the bedside next to the lube.
What I Want in a Man, Revised List (age 72)
1. Breathing
2. Doesn't miss the toilet.
3. Has a fantastic life insurance policy
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