So I tried my Chicken Kabobs last night. Very tasty. The sauce wasn't quite right though., it suffered from a Gilligan's Island syndrome: too much ginger.
Yeah, sorry. That's the type of joke that would have made MyUnwife sigh and probably leave the room. Can't blame her too much. It was a bad joke. But then again, I was never that fond of Ginger. The castaway, as a Spice Girl, she's just fine.
I considered Ginger Spice while eating my kabobs. She was the bad girl Spice. Always into trouble and stuff. Didn't she do a nude shoot or twenty? Her past caught up with her in the height of her career. Too bad, it wasn't much more than ankle high. She was also the spice most likely to throw a hissy-fit; Spice Girl most likely to be found naked and screaming, huh.
The Irish have a legend based on that woman. They call her a Banshee. What? The banshee isn't naked? Well she should be! There goes my segue. Fine. You can all blame the smartaleck who pointed that out. Now you'll just have to enjoy a train-wreck segue.
Kabobs, rice, and a salad, that was dinner. I glanced over the newspaper. That's something I didn't do while I was married. That's because we were busy talking. We talked about everything: Horrible jokes, who died in the Obits, the latest naked spice "(Have you had sugar in the raw?"), what new songs I heard today. Some topics were important, most topics weren't, at least not to anybody else but us, in that moment. Last night it was me and the newspaper making things topical.
There was a big article in the health section. I normally try to avoid that during dinner; that section can get graphic. It's like watching CSI and eating.
"Mmmm, that bullet perforated the heart, he fell from the table, causing a compound tibia fracture, and a the lampshade on his head juiced his brain like an orange. Pass the zester please."
Last night the Health section looked safe except that guy showing new exercises. He was doing something tippy-toed, and fingertipped to a table with a lampshade on his head, very dangerous. Very strange. I didn't read that article. I flipped pages for naked Ginger pics.
The big article was about women holding in anger. It supposedly shaves 7 years off their life. Men? It doesn't do a thing. How cool is that? We've evolved an extra organ for filtering stored anger. I can seethe all I want, and I'm cool, the organ turns it into back hair. Women would be fine, but their body rejects the organ that puts hair on their chest. That's why they die sooner. They hold it in like a sneeze. That's bad for you. The sneeze has to go somewhere.
Of course then there's that other article about people living alone vs. married people. The lonely ones die 2 year earlier. I just gave up 2 years of my life! I’m gonna have enough back hair to knit a sweater from that info. Thank God I'm not an angry woman too!
Where they get this stuff. How do they test it? This isn't lab rat stuff. What do they do? Stick people in crates and take notes?
"Hey Bob, looks like the fat guy died."
"huh, I thought he had another 2 years in him."
"Me too."
"Cool, so it's agreed: 2 years early."
"Bob, Frank, hurry! Skinny guy in 12 is trying to pull a back hair Repunzel!"
After dinner I went to work. Since there's a TV in my office, I turned it on. I'm a wooly sheep. I watched an old episode of Everyone Loves Raymond. It's the one were Ray gives his wife the bathroom. At the end of the episode, there's a big argument of mean.
I thought about that. As best as I can remember, MyUnwife and I never argued. Sure we disagreed, but it usually was settled over a series sighs. That was it. Should we have argued? Should she have been a screaming Ginger Banshee? Would it bring my two years back?
Obviously there were things that bothered her but she never brought them up. She didn't even mention the "big stuff" until after they were really non-issues. She brought them up, not as problems to be fixed, but as excuses to leave.
People who argue say that it helps them grow together. By screaming grievances, they knit themselves into a binding back-hair straight-jacket. Does that really help, or is it a case by case thing? I don't know. I have to wonder, I'm supposed to learn from all of this. I need to become a better person, otherwise what was it all for?
It has to be more significant than just a good excuse to read the newspaper at the table. Where is Gilligan's Ginger when you need to make sense of the worlds deep philosophical crises? It's like the one thing I learned from that show: You can fix anything with a set of coconuts.
4 comments:
I read somewhere (in my plethora of relationship books) that it's not arguing that's the problem...it's how you make up.
Of course, take it with a grain of salt from the already-divorced-chick with the weirdo non-relationship. ;)
But that brings us back to the "Is the light on in the fridge when you close the door." Which BTW is similar to an issue I had as a little kid. I think I was 5 or 6, and suddenly had this thought, "When I'm not doing anything, is my jaw closed, or open just a bit?" I spent the next three days trying to figure it out. I'm not sure if I ever figured it out, but I did learn there are some questions you just don't ask.
Here's the thing though. I think you're right, but what if you never argue? There is no make up. To make up would be to admit there's a problem. That opens a whole new can of worms.
Not arguing is actually worse.
(We did that for years.)
Yeah, that's where my hindsight o' meter is pointing.
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