He Said
The new year has arrived and as usual I start thinking about how
I can make my life better or maybe even make your life better,
being the gentleman that I am. So here is my list of New Years
Resolutions for you to decimate.
I hereby agree to stay out of the way of your vacuum cleaner.
I know that in years past I might have complained about the
noise and having to raise my feet. But this year I will go to the
movies while you clean. That is the least I can do.
I promise to not get in your way as you mow the grass. I will
continue to sit on the porch and read and not be critical of the
blades of grass that you miss.
As you give the dog a bath, I hereby swear that I will not
stand behind you and try to get the dog excited so that she
tries to escape and covers you with water, even though it is funny.
I promise not to give all your friends pet names and call them by
those names when they call or we talk about them...although Goofy
is a good name for one of your friends because they act Goofy.
I promise to drive the shopping cart in a professional manner when
we go grocery shopping and not to put too many items in the cart
that you did not approve , so that when we get home I get fussed at.
I promise not to start smoking or drinking this year, because it
is bad for me and makes your house stink, and you know
I don't want to make your house stink.
I hereby agree to be nice to all your friends and neighbors and
relatives and children and workers so that they will like me and
not encourage you to marry Dr. McDreamy.
I will try and clean out my car if I get a chance so we can
take my car when I take you out to eat and spend money on you
and you won't have to use the gas in your car.
I will try and lose some weight so you can show me off to all
your friends and tell them how you whipped me into shape in
just a few years.
She Said
Another year and more of your dumb resolutions that you never
ever follow. But is seems to make you happy to write them down
so I again this year will play along. I might even have a couple
of ideas for you myself. The best thing for us to do is for me to
write your resolutions for you and you write my resolutions for me
and this way we can see what the other persons thinks about our
daily habits. But this would be far too difficult for you so I will
just comment on yours.
Just like a man to think that he is helping his significant
other by going to a movie while she cleans.
The first time I let you mow the grass you did such a horrible job
that I told you never to touch my mower again. Now I think you
screwed up on purpose to get out of mowing.
The dog is not excited she is just trying to escape the chore
of bathing. Sort of like most men.
Most of my friends are so above you intellectually that even
if I told them they would just say you have such low self esteem
and are tremendously jealous of their intellect.
As long as you pay for the groceries I don't care what you put
in the basket. As far as your driving skills, the pattern follows
how you drive on the highway. I see no difference.
My house only stinks when you bring hot dogs home. You are too
cheap to buy cigarettes and you are not old enough mentally
to drink yet.
I don't want to have to break in another man rich or poor.
I will just keep you since you are already house broken.
Your car is a joke.
Your weight does not bother me. Your neatness factor could
stand a workout though.
At our ages change does not come easy. I have just learned to
accept you as a challenge. Even if I don't succeed I have given
it a great run for the money. No matter what we always have next
year to improve your habits. At least you should be grateful that
we did not have room to talk about me. As usual,it is always
about you.
Happy New Year everyone.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Decipher the Correct Christmas Carols
As the Christmas season begins, Dena and I would like to
thank you for your e-mails, comments, and letters about
“He Said She Said”.
We do it for fun and love making people laugh and also
think about their own relationships. We enjoy coming up
with different topics and hearing others reactions.
We ARE in LOVE despite what you read.
Remember to keep Christ in Christmas this year and
always try and get along with your significant other.
Be happy all year not just at Christmas time.
This is the one thing that we all can agree on this season.
Below you will find some of Dena and Larry’s favorite
Christmas Carols.
Decipher the correct title of the Christmas Carols that they love.
You will find the answers under COMMENTS
where you choose your answers from the list in the next blog.
Good Luck.
Merry Christmas from Larry and Dena.
1. Bleached Yule
2. Castaneous-colored Seed Vesicated in a Conflagration
3. Singular Yearning for the Twin Anterior Incisors
4. Righteous Darkness
5. Arrival Time 2400 hrs - Weather Cloudless
6. Loyal Followers Advance
7. Far Off in a Feeder
8. Array the Corridor
9. Bantam Male Percussionist
10. Monarchial Triad
11. Nocturnal Noiselessness
12. Jehovah Deactivate Blithe Chevaliers
13. Red Man En Route to Borough
14. Frozen Precipitation Commence
15. Proceed and Enlighten on the Pinnacle
16. The Quadruped with the Vermilion Proboscis
17. Query Regarding Identity of Descendant
18. Delight for this Planet
19. Give Attention to the Melodious Celestial Beings
20. The Dozen Festive 24 Hour Intervals
thank you for your e-mails, comments, and letters about
“He Said She Said”.
We do it for fun and love making people laugh and also
think about their own relationships. We enjoy coming up
with different topics and hearing others reactions.
We ARE in LOVE despite what you read.
Remember to keep Christ in Christmas this year and
always try and get along with your significant other.
Be happy all year not just at Christmas time.
This is the one thing that we all can agree on this season.
Below you will find some of Dena and Larry’s favorite
Christmas Carols.
Decipher the correct title of the Christmas Carols that they love.
You will find the answers under COMMENTS
where you choose your answers from the list in the next blog.
Good Luck.
Merry Christmas from Larry and Dena.
1. Bleached Yule
2. Castaneous-colored Seed Vesicated in a Conflagration
3. Singular Yearning for the Twin Anterior Incisors
4. Righteous Darkness
5. Arrival Time 2400 hrs - Weather Cloudless
6. Loyal Followers Advance
7. Far Off in a Feeder
8. Array the Corridor
9. Bantam Male Percussionist
10. Monarchial Triad
11. Nocturnal Noiselessness
12. Jehovah Deactivate Blithe Chevaliers
13. Red Man En Route to Borough
14. Frozen Precipitation Commence
15. Proceed and Enlighten on the Pinnacle
16. The Quadruped with the Vermilion Proboscis
17. Query Regarding Identity of Descendant
18. Delight for this Planet
19. Give Attention to the Melodious Celestial Beings
20. The Dozen Festive 24 Hour Intervals
Some of Larry and Dena's Favorite Christmas Carols
OK, if you need help, look at this easier list of some of Larry and
Dena's favorite Christmas carols.
1.O Holy Night
2.White Christmas
3.Angels We Have Heard on High
4.Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
5.All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth
6.It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
7.God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen
8.O Come, All Ye Faithful
9.O Little Town of Bethlehem
10.Away in a Manger
11.Deck the Hall
12.Little Drummer Boy
13.We Three Kings
14.Silent Night
15.My Favorite Things
16.Santa Claus is Coming to Town
17.Let it Snow
18.Go, Tell It on the Mountain
19.Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer
20.What Child is This?
21.Joy to the World
22.Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
23.The Twelve Days of Christmas
24.Rocking around the Christmas Tree
25.Do They Know It's Christmas Time
26.The First Noel
27.Feliz Navidad
28.Happy Xmas (war is over)
29.Merry Christmas Darling
Dena's favorite Christmas carols.
1.O Holy Night
2.White Christmas
3.Angels We Have Heard on High
4.Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
5.All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth
6.It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
7.God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen
8.O Come, All Ye Faithful
9.O Little Town of Bethlehem
10.Away in a Manger
11.Deck the Hall
12.Little Drummer Boy
13.We Three Kings
14.Silent Night
15.My Favorite Things
16.Santa Claus is Coming to Town
17.Let it Snow
18.Go, Tell It on the Mountain
19.Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer
20.What Child is This?
21.Joy to the World
22.Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
23.The Twelve Days of Christmas
24.Rocking around the Christmas Tree
25.Do They Know It's Christmas Time
26.The First Noel
27.Feliz Navidad
28.Happy Xmas (war is over)
29.Merry Christmas Darling
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Art of Being Left Handed Pt.2
She Said
This left-handed business is pretty fascinating. I dug a little deeper and found a lot of things that you aren’t supposed to be able to do because you're left-handed. Aren’t you glad I'm so understanding?
Apparently, it’s the left-to-right motion that’s the problem resulting in “How many Larrys does it take to screw in a light bulb?” When you were in school and the desks were all for right-handed people, did you protest? What about spiral notebooks? Does the wire get in the way or your hand cramp when using a composition book? Try using it from back to front instead of front to back!
Does the ink or pencil smear when you write? Is that why your penmanship is illegible? I suppose you would like for the car makers to put the ignition on the left side of the steering wheel just for you. What about door handles . . . should they turn from right to left? This is one that probably doesn’t affect you . . . did you even know that the kill switch on a chain saw is on the right? Every year there are 10,000 left-handed people who die from using items designed for “normal” right-handed users. I'll bet Bill Gates could make another fortune if he would invent a mouse for left-handers.
I do notice, however, that although Lazy Boy Recliners operate on the right side, you don’t have a problem relaxing in one.
I’ll bet you feel even more discriminated against when you take language into consideration: a left-handed compliment for instance. Did you know the word for “left” in French is “gauche” and in Latin it’s “sinister.” In contrast, the French word for “right” is “droit” from which we get the English word “adroit” and Latin for “right” is ‘dexter" from which we get “dexterous.” In tarot cards, the word for “right” is “justice” and the word for “left” is “devil.”
One more interesting fact is that there are scholarships for left-handed people. Is there a reason for that? I have a great idea. Since August 13 is International Left-Handers Day, I’ll plan a huge celebration in honor of the fact that you’ve survived another year of successfully using your “wrong” hand!
He Said
You are not going to let this left-handed thing go, are you? I’ve known you for 40 years and dated you for 10 years, and this month you discovered the world of being left handed? Up until this month, I just have not thought about it. I have adapted quite well to the world of right-handers, and so far you have been the only one to give me a lecture and history lesson of being left-handed. I guess that is what I get for dating a school teacher who looks to educate the world or at least my world on the detriment of a person who uses the wrong hand in your sight.
I don’t have enough space to tell you about all of the geniuses who are left-handed or the most creative people in the world who just happen to be left-handed, but does the name Albert Einstein ring a bell for you?
No? I just happen to be in a class of intellectuals and creative people throughout the world who make your poor, pitiful right-hand world bland without all of the left-handed people in the world creating a world of entertainment and joy for you. You should really be on your knees begging me to teach you how to be left handed, so that you too can enjoy the superiority complex world that I am forced to live in as a left-hander.
As you well know, we are only about 10% of the population. So I thank God every night for reaching down and making me a very special person.
I really do feel sorry for you ordinary right-handers
This left-handed business is pretty fascinating. I dug a little deeper and found a lot of things that you aren’t supposed to be able to do because you're left-handed. Aren’t you glad I'm so understanding?
Apparently, it’s the left-to-right motion that’s the problem resulting in “How many Larrys does it take to screw in a light bulb?” When you were in school and the desks were all for right-handed people, did you protest? What about spiral notebooks? Does the wire get in the way or your hand cramp when using a composition book? Try using it from back to front instead of front to back!
Does the ink or pencil smear when you write? Is that why your penmanship is illegible? I suppose you would like for the car makers to put the ignition on the left side of the steering wheel just for you. What about door handles . . . should they turn from right to left? This is one that probably doesn’t affect you . . . did you even know that the kill switch on a chain saw is on the right? Every year there are 10,000 left-handed people who die from using items designed for “normal” right-handed users. I'll bet Bill Gates could make another fortune if he would invent a mouse for left-handers.
I do notice, however, that although Lazy Boy Recliners operate on the right side, you don’t have a problem relaxing in one.
I’ll bet you feel even more discriminated against when you take language into consideration: a left-handed compliment for instance. Did you know the word for “left” in French is “gauche” and in Latin it’s “sinister.” In contrast, the French word for “right” is “droit” from which we get the English word “adroit” and Latin for “right” is ‘dexter" from which we get “dexterous.” In tarot cards, the word for “right” is “justice” and the word for “left” is “devil.”
One more interesting fact is that there are scholarships for left-handed people. Is there a reason for that? I have a great idea. Since August 13 is International Left-Handers Day, I’ll plan a huge celebration in honor of the fact that you’ve survived another year of successfully using your “wrong” hand!
He Said
You are not going to let this left-handed thing go, are you? I’ve known you for 40 years and dated you for 10 years, and this month you discovered the world of being left handed? Up until this month, I just have not thought about it. I have adapted quite well to the world of right-handers, and so far you have been the only one to give me a lecture and history lesson of being left-handed. I guess that is what I get for dating a school teacher who looks to educate the world or at least my world on the detriment of a person who uses the wrong hand in your sight.
I don’t have enough space to tell you about all of the geniuses who are left-handed or the most creative people in the world who just happen to be left-handed, but does the name Albert Einstein ring a bell for you?
No? I just happen to be in a class of intellectuals and creative people throughout the world who make your poor, pitiful right-hand world bland without all of the left-handed people in the world creating a world of entertainment and joy for you. You should really be on your knees begging me to teach you how to be left handed, so that you too can enjoy the superiority complex world that I am forced to live in as a left-hander.
As you well know, we are only about 10% of the population. So I thank God every night for reaching down and making me a very special person.
I really do feel sorry for you ordinary right-handers
The Art of Being Left Handed Pt.1
She Said:
I can handle the fact that you can't cut with a pair of scissors, use power tools, turn a corkscrew, etc., but it's the mumbling that gets to me. I've read many of the books about Southpaws but honestly, can you really blame mumbling on being left handed? I know. I've read the research about the likelihood that left- handers often mumble but all you need to do is open your mouth and enunciate your words. I know my hearing is diminishing as the years go by but I don't want to resort to a hearing aid until I have to. Is this some sort of subliminal plan to trick me into thinking I'm going deaf? What an evil streak you have. You will even turn your head away from me when you're talking so I can't hear you and when I ask you to repeat yourself, you increase the decibel level (ie: yell) instead of working on your enunciation. I don't need loudness, I need clarity. You can be sitting in another room and say something barely audible to me so I have to stop what I'm doing, walk to wherever you are and ask you to repeat yourself. Funny, but when you're talking to one of the guys on the phone, I can be outside and hear every word. I guess that's your business voice and with me you use your "come hither" voice. Today, as we were riding in the car, I didn't have a problem hearing you "talking" to other offensive drivers. If we occasionally disagree about something, I don't have trouble hearing you make your point. If you get agitated over business situations, you speak quite clearly. If you're calling the dog and she decides to ignore you, your voice is extremely clear. So let's make a deal...stop mumbling and I'll stop feeling sorry for you having to use your "wrong" hand instead of your right one!
He Said
Maybe it is because I am left handed that I am confused. Your first sentence mentioned left handedness and your last sentence mentioned being left handed. The other 290 words were about mumbling. I have 57 relatives. I have 986 friends. I have 699 business associates. I have 23 enemies, plus I talk to many people daily that I don't even know.
That's about 2055 other people not counting the people I do not know that have never,
let me repeat that again…have never ever complained about my mumbling or their
inability to hear me. Maybe this can give you some insight to YOUR problem that for
some reason you are trying to put on me. I mean don't get me wrong. I am left handed.
I apologize. You might want to speak to my parents about this, as I am sure you must
be aware that it is probably their fault and not mine. I might also remind you that I have two children who are both left handed and very creative and intelligent as most lefties are.
If memory serves me right there are several people who you talk to on the phone and
I believe that several times (765 to be exact) I have heard you either ask to them to speak up or when you get off the phone you complain to me that you could barely hear them.
I have a very good friend who is in the audiologist business and maybe I should contact him for an appointment. Of course I will have to call him and being left handed and mumbling all over the phone, I am sure he will not understand me. I will just text him.
Left handed of course.
I can handle the fact that you can't cut with a pair of scissors, use power tools, turn a corkscrew, etc., but it's the mumbling that gets to me. I've read many of the books about Southpaws but honestly, can you really blame mumbling on being left handed? I know. I've read the research about the likelihood that left- handers often mumble but all you need to do is open your mouth and enunciate your words. I know my hearing is diminishing as the years go by but I don't want to resort to a hearing aid until I have to. Is this some sort of subliminal plan to trick me into thinking I'm going deaf? What an evil streak you have. You will even turn your head away from me when you're talking so I can't hear you and when I ask you to repeat yourself, you increase the decibel level (ie: yell) instead of working on your enunciation. I don't need loudness, I need clarity. You can be sitting in another room and say something barely audible to me so I have to stop what I'm doing, walk to wherever you are and ask you to repeat yourself. Funny, but when you're talking to one of the guys on the phone, I can be outside and hear every word. I guess that's your business voice and with me you use your "come hither" voice. Today, as we were riding in the car, I didn't have a problem hearing you "talking" to other offensive drivers. If we occasionally disagree about something, I don't have trouble hearing you make your point. If you get agitated over business situations, you speak quite clearly. If you're calling the dog and she decides to ignore you, your voice is extremely clear. So let's make a deal...stop mumbling and I'll stop feeling sorry for you having to use your "wrong" hand instead of your right one!
He Said
Maybe it is because I am left handed that I am confused. Your first sentence mentioned left handedness and your last sentence mentioned being left handed. The other 290 words were about mumbling. I have 57 relatives. I have 986 friends. I have 699 business associates. I have 23 enemies, plus I talk to many people daily that I don't even know.
That's about 2055 other people not counting the people I do not know that have never,
let me repeat that again…have never ever complained about my mumbling or their
inability to hear me. Maybe this can give you some insight to YOUR problem that for
some reason you are trying to put on me. I mean don't get me wrong. I am left handed.
I apologize. You might want to speak to my parents about this, as I am sure you must
be aware that it is probably their fault and not mine. I might also remind you that I have two children who are both left handed and very creative and intelligent as most lefties are.
If memory serves me right there are several people who you talk to on the phone and
I believe that several times (765 to be exact) I have heard you either ask to them to speak up or when you get off the phone you complain to me that you could barely hear them.
I have a very good friend who is in the audiologist business and maybe I should contact him for an appointment. Of course I will have to call him and being left handed and mumbling all over the phone, I am sure he will not understand me. I will just text him.
Left handed of course.
Dating When You Are Older
He Said
by Larry Oldham
Do you remember back when you were 16? Just about time you began realizing how significant girls were in your life, you also realized that the girls at school were different from your sister—especially if you were going to ask one of them for a date. That got to be a major fear for some of us, not because we were shy, but because we were terrified of being rejected.
But that was then. This is now and dating now that we are older brings on a whole new plethora of major troubles and fears.
Don’t get me wrong. I love dating, but relationship rules have changed. The biggest problem at sixteen was what movie to see or what to wear to the prom. Now I’m older, the question is still which movie to see and what to wear to church. But these days my significant other also has an opinion—usually an opposite opinion.
My fiancée says if I wear my brown suit, it will clash with her new black outfit. She wants to go to the movies, but it has to be between three and five, nothing scary, nothing with too much blood, and though she wants popcorn, “they cook it in saturated fat and they put too much salt on it”.
Now I know this sounds trivial, but I am trying to stay away from the controversial issues when dating as you get older like, raising children differently, sharing expenses, household duties (hers and mine), visiting relatives, choosing which friends to pal around with, how long we stay visiting each mother’s house, where we go on vacation, and who ate the last doughnut?
You know after thinking about it, dating at sixteen was probably a whole lot easier than I remember. There was less responsibility, accountability, and much less expensive. On the other hand, these days my fiancée cuts the grass, makes my supper, keeps the house spotless, buys the groceries, irons my shirts, and keeps me happy. Maybe dating as I get older isn’t so bad after all, plus—she is still just as beautiful as she was at sixteen.
She Said
by Dena Hill
Dating when you are older or dating when you are sixteen is basically all the same thing. You have to take care of a man.
Don’t get me wrong. I like dating. Men just never grow up. I think they all have that mother complex. They want a girlfriend; they want a woman in their life; but they can’t tell the difference between a girlfriend, a wife, or a mother. Their mothers took care of them, fixed their meals, cleaned up after them, and helped them through their most difficult times...now that’s what they want from a girlfriend or a wife.
I feel like now my children are grown and out of the house, I can sit down, relax, and maybe do something I want to do for myself. Instead, out of the blue, in the middle of the day, my fiancé decides that “we” want to go to a movie. Of course he wants to see a bang-bang, shoot’em up, car-wrecking, blood-splattering epic that lasts for at least four hours. If I don’t go, he pouts. If I suggest something that I want to see, he whines “Oh, that got bad reviews...but if you want to see it...”
Don’t get me started on clothes. Whatever is lying around the house that doesn’t walk by itself, he will wear. Truth is, he just needs to wake up and realize he is not sixteen anymore. He has a great mother—he doesn’t need two. He can fix his own sandwich, get his own soda, wash his own car, cut his own grass, and pick out what he wants to wear (as long as it matches my outfit).
He also needs to remember that we are both older now and have our own individual ideas about life based on how we were raised. He needs to start thinking about how we can make our lives better by sharing ideas and being happy that we are together.
Dating as an older couple isn’t hard, it’s just time consuming. I enjoy dating now, but give me some space and a little time for myself. As a matter of fact, if he went fishing with the guys more often, it would probably make dating much more fun.
Oh, I forgot. He doesn’t fish or go out with the boys. I guess that means we’ll be together all the time, so maybe we should just go ahead and get married...but that is entirely another column.
by Larry Oldham
Do you remember back when you were 16? Just about time you began realizing how significant girls were in your life, you also realized that the girls at school were different from your sister—especially if you were going to ask one of them for a date. That got to be a major fear for some of us, not because we were shy, but because we were terrified of being rejected.
But that was then. This is now and dating now that we are older brings on a whole new plethora of major troubles and fears.
Don’t get me wrong. I love dating, but relationship rules have changed. The biggest problem at sixteen was what movie to see or what to wear to the prom. Now I’m older, the question is still which movie to see and what to wear to church. But these days my significant other also has an opinion—usually an opposite opinion.
My fiancée says if I wear my brown suit, it will clash with her new black outfit. She wants to go to the movies, but it has to be between three and five, nothing scary, nothing with too much blood, and though she wants popcorn, “they cook it in saturated fat and they put too much salt on it”.
Now I know this sounds trivial, but I am trying to stay away from the controversial issues when dating as you get older like, raising children differently, sharing expenses, household duties (hers and mine), visiting relatives, choosing which friends to pal around with, how long we stay visiting each mother’s house, where we go on vacation, and who ate the last doughnut?
You know after thinking about it, dating at sixteen was probably a whole lot easier than I remember. There was less responsibility, accountability, and much less expensive. On the other hand, these days my fiancée cuts the grass, makes my supper, keeps the house spotless, buys the groceries, irons my shirts, and keeps me happy. Maybe dating as I get older isn’t so bad after all, plus—she is still just as beautiful as she was at sixteen.
She Said
by Dena Hill
Dating when you are older or dating when you are sixteen is basically all the same thing. You have to take care of a man.
Don’t get me wrong. I like dating. Men just never grow up. I think they all have that mother complex. They want a girlfriend; they want a woman in their life; but they can’t tell the difference between a girlfriend, a wife, or a mother. Their mothers took care of them, fixed their meals, cleaned up after them, and helped them through their most difficult times...now that’s what they want from a girlfriend or a wife.
I feel like now my children are grown and out of the house, I can sit down, relax, and maybe do something I want to do for myself. Instead, out of the blue, in the middle of the day, my fiancé decides that “we” want to go to a movie. Of course he wants to see a bang-bang, shoot’em up, car-wrecking, blood-splattering epic that lasts for at least four hours. If I don’t go, he pouts. If I suggest something that I want to see, he whines “Oh, that got bad reviews...but if you want to see it...”
Don’t get me started on clothes. Whatever is lying around the house that doesn’t walk by itself, he will wear. Truth is, he just needs to wake up and realize he is not sixteen anymore. He has a great mother—he doesn’t need two. He can fix his own sandwich, get his own soda, wash his own car, cut his own grass, and pick out what he wants to wear (as long as it matches my outfit).
He also needs to remember that we are both older now and have our own individual ideas about life based on how we were raised. He needs to start thinking about how we can make our lives better by sharing ideas and being happy that we are together.
Dating as an older couple isn’t hard, it’s just time consuming. I enjoy dating now, but give me some space and a little time for myself. As a matter of fact, if he went fishing with the guys more often, it would probably make dating much more fun.
Oh, I forgot. He doesn’t fish or go out with the boys. I guess that means we’ll be together all the time, so maybe we should just go ahead and get married...but that is entirely another column.
Let the Readers Decide
He Said
First of all let me thank all of the readers who read our column.
The question most asked of us is how do you come up with the
topics? This is fairly easy for us. She is perfect and I am the
dunce. She just sits down and says," COMMODE...he doesn't
put the lid down and walla, a topic is born. DISHES...he refuses
to do them. Aha, another topic. JUNK FOODS...that's him,sounds
like a May column to me." It's really quite simple. Name a subject,
he's wrong. We have tried to reverse it. She says , how about
EDUCATION. I say we both agree on it, who is the adversary?
MONEY...we both agree, we would both like to have more.
CHILDREN... we have five between us, we don't need anymore,
and our children are perfect. No discussion there. A lot of you
that read the column are always giving us ideas, cell phones,
pets, relatives, lifestyles etc. I am not saying we haven't used
your ideas before, but we like for the subject to be something
that we have both shared and normally something that we
have shared in discourse. He Said, She Said, etc.etc.
Except for Christmas. The December column was something
that we both agreed on, celebrated together and always enjoy.
So there was no conflict. Most readers tell us that was their
favorite column. Maybe instead of writing He Said She Said,
we should be writing about all the things we do agree on.
That should be good for at least two columns and maybe
only one...The Christmas issue.
She Said
I would also like to thank our readers, especially the female
readers who 99% of the time agree with me. It is not that
you are a dunce Larry. It is not even a problem that you
and I are at odds with one another. It is just men are different
and women are different, and you and I don't mind sharing
our differences with our readers. I appreciate the readers
and their comments. You just don't know how many topics
I could cover where you and I do not agree. I am too much
of a lady to sit down with a pad, a thick pad, maybe even
a hundred page pad, and list out all of your faults. I would
never embarrass you in front of all our friends and readers.
I am just content to let you throw out some subject each
month, then make a big deal about it, as all men do, when
actually I see your problems as petty or insignificant(AS
MOST WOMEN DO ALSO). If our readers can identify
with a subject and they have had the same problem
in their relationship, and if they enjoy the humor(sometimes)
of the same situation and are entertained, then I am happy.
But secretly I think that most of my friends and probably
most of the readers feel like you are making a mountain
out of a molehill, and appreciate my calling you on it. They
also appreciate the fact that I am giving you
the window of my intellectual reasoning as most women
would do. I am sure 99% of my friends would agree.
First of all let me thank all of the readers who read our column.
The question most asked of us is how do you come up with the
topics? This is fairly easy for us. She is perfect and I am the
dunce. She just sits down and says," COMMODE...he doesn't
put the lid down and walla, a topic is born. DISHES...he refuses
to do them. Aha, another topic. JUNK FOODS...that's him,sounds
like a May column to me." It's really quite simple. Name a subject,
he's wrong. We have tried to reverse it. She says , how about
EDUCATION. I say we both agree on it, who is the adversary?
MONEY...we both agree, we would both like to have more.
CHILDREN... we have five between us, we don't need anymore,
and our children are perfect. No discussion there. A lot of you
that read the column are always giving us ideas, cell phones,
pets, relatives, lifestyles etc. I am not saying we haven't used
your ideas before, but we like for the subject to be something
that we have both shared and normally something that we
have shared in discourse. He Said, She Said, etc.etc.
Except for Christmas. The December column was something
that we both agreed on, celebrated together and always enjoy.
So there was no conflict. Most readers tell us that was their
favorite column. Maybe instead of writing He Said She Said,
we should be writing about all the things we do agree on.
That should be good for at least two columns and maybe
only one...The Christmas issue.
She Said
I would also like to thank our readers, especially the female
readers who 99% of the time agree with me. It is not that
you are a dunce Larry. It is not even a problem that you
and I are at odds with one another. It is just men are different
and women are different, and you and I don't mind sharing
our differences with our readers. I appreciate the readers
and their comments. You just don't know how many topics
I could cover where you and I do not agree. I am too much
of a lady to sit down with a pad, a thick pad, maybe even
a hundred page pad, and list out all of your faults. I would
never embarrass you in front of all our friends and readers.
I am just content to let you throw out some subject each
month, then make a big deal about it, as all men do, when
actually I see your problems as petty or insignificant(AS
MOST WOMEN DO ALSO). If our readers can identify
with a subject and they have had the same problem
in their relationship, and if they enjoy the humor(sometimes)
of the same situation and are entertained, then I am happy.
But secretly I think that most of my friends and probably
most of the readers feel like you are making a mountain
out of a molehill, and appreciate my calling you on it. They
also appreciate the fact that I am giving you
the window of my intellectual reasoning as most women
would do. I am sure 99% of my friends would agree.
No Problem...He Said..She Winces
She Said by Dena Hill
We all have experiences that drive us up the wall. I was hoping that I would mellow with age, but so far, that hasn't happened.
For example— When I say "Thank you" for a service performed or a deed done, the typical response today is "No problem" instead of "You're welcome." I never said there was a problem so how does a problem enter into the picture? A simple you're welcome or okay would suffice.
In all fairness to the generation before us, such sayings as long in the tooth, fuddy duddy, all the rage, to tie the knot, to lose heart, and dry spell—when taken literally— probably had our parents confused. Each generation has its own lingo. How do you think a foreigner would interpret his nose is out of joint or a wolf in sheep's clothing or when pigs fly?
Another word that grates on my ears is library. There are two r's in library. The word is not libary. What about the word salmon? The l is silent so it sounds like sa-men. One day I heard someone denounce an opinion during a conversation by saying,
"That's a mute point." The word is moot; short o not long u.
There are, though, some exceptions. We have a Sunday School teacher who speaks eloquently but I DO listen to him. Our class is full of well-read worshippers who know the Bible backwards and forwards, so even if I thought someone was mispronouncing or misusing a word, I wouldn't correct them. Knowledge outweighs pronunciation and enunciation.
I know I've mispronounced words and I appreciate being corrected. After all, we never stop learning. I have a feeling that after this column hits the newsstand, I'll have readers yelling "No problem" at me.
I'll try to smile through my gritting teeth and crossed eyes and reply, "Was that only a slip of the tongue?"
He Said by Larry Oldham
Well, this is what I get for dating a school teacher.
Who cares what the response is when you say "Thank you" as long as there is a response? It beats a blank stare or being completely ignored. As much as I like to talk, I'm just interested in carrying on a conversation with someone. I certainly don't judge how they're using English grammar.
You must be accustomed to hearing incorrect grammar in the classroom, so you're judging everyone you see or hear. Granted, it's your job to teach acceptable speech patterns, but you need to lighten up on the general population. We speak the way we do because we were taught by our parents and their parents before them. We hand down our way of communicating the same way we hand down stories from one generation to the next. I can't worry about how foreigners interpret our language as long as I know what I mean. If they want to think that pigs really can fly, that's their problem, not mine.
Also, I've been saying "libary" my whole life and it probably isn't going to change now that you've brought it to my attention. I love books and they'll still be inside "the room" no matter how I pronounce it. The same holds true for salmon. There are six letters in that word and I'm going to pronounce every last one of them! (But I don't have to eat it, do I?)
I guess I should send up smoke signals to communicate with you because now I'm afraid I'll mispronounce a word and you'll be writing it down in your little composition book to be used in a later column. But one thing we agree on is our Sunday School class...it's great! I toyed with the idea of teaching once in a while until I realized how critical you are about grammar. Do you think you could occasionally be sick so I can teach in peace? Thank you...No problem.
We all have experiences that drive us up the wall. I was hoping that I would mellow with age, but so far, that hasn't happened.
For example— When I say "Thank you" for a service performed or a deed done, the typical response today is "No problem" instead of "You're welcome." I never said there was a problem so how does a problem enter into the picture? A simple you're welcome or okay would suffice.
In all fairness to the generation before us, such sayings as long in the tooth, fuddy duddy, all the rage, to tie the knot, to lose heart, and dry spell—when taken literally— probably had our parents confused. Each generation has its own lingo. How do you think a foreigner would interpret his nose is out of joint or a wolf in sheep's clothing or when pigs fly?
Another word that grates on my ears is library. There are two r's in library. The word is not libary. What about the word salmon? The l is silent so it sounds like sa-men. One day I heard someone denounce an opinion during a conversation by saying,
"That's a mute point." The word is moot; short o not long u.
There are, though, some exceptions. We have a Sunday School teacher who speaks eloquently but I DO listen to him. Our class is full of well-read worshippers who know the Bible backwards and forwards, so even if I thought someone was mispronouncing or misusing a word, I wouldn't correct them. Knowledge outweighs pronunciation and enunciation.
I know I've mispronounced words and I appreciate being corrected. After all, we never stop learning. I have a feeling that after this column hits the newsstand, I'll have readers yelling "No problem" at me.
I'll try to smile through my gritting teeth and crossed eyes and reply, "Was that only a slip of the tongue?"
He Said by Larry Oldham
Well, this is what I get for dating a school teacher.
Who cares what the response is when you say "Thank you" as long as there is a response? It beats a blank stare or being completely ignored. As much as I like to talk, I'm just interested in carrying on a conversation with someone. I certainly don't judge how they're using English grammar.
You must be accustomed to hearing incorrect grammar in the classroom, so you're judging everyone you see or hear. Granted, it's your job to teach acceptable speech patterns, but you need to lighten up on the general population. We speak the way we do because we were taught by our parents and their parents before them. We hand down our way of communicating the same way we hand down stories from one generation to the next. I can't worry about how foreigners interpret our language as long as I know what I mean. If they want to think that pigs really can fly, that's their problem, not mine.
Also, I've been saying "libary" my whole life and it probably isn't going to change now that you've brought it to my attention. I love books and they'll still be inside "the room" no matter how I pronounce it. The same holds true for salmon. There are six letters in that word and I'm going to pronounce every last one of them! (But I don't have to eat it, do I?)
I guess I should send up smoke signals to communicate with you because now I'm afraid I'll mispronounce a word and you'll be writing it down in your little composition book to be used in a later column. But one thing we agree on is our Sunday School class...it's great! I toyed with the idea of teaching once in a while until I realized how critical you are about grammar. Do you think you could occasionally be sick so I can teach in peace? Thank you...No problem.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Restaurant Manners
She Said
I never thought I'd be pushed into a public complaint about restaurant behavior but here goes...and you're in the center of it! A few weeks ago when we were traveling to Virginia Beach to visit my father, we stopped to eat at Applebees because they have a Weight Watchers menu. The waitress came to the table with "What can I get for you, Baby?" It was "honey" this and "Sweetie" that. I could have let it go but you had to ask her why she called you those endearing names. I listened to her response from under the table because I was so embarrassed. I was even more surprised when she replied that she was trained to use those names so she would get bigger tips. It didn't stop there. You listened to the music briefly and then complained about it being "hip hop" and asked if they even noticed that everyone in the restaurant had gray hair. You were still talking about it three days later when you called their corporate office to complain about their service and training program. As long as I am being so picky about restaurant service, let's talk about your restaurant manners. Every time I see you eating with your elbows on the table, I can hear my mother admonishing me as a child. She also told me that fried chicken was the only finger food, not fried fish. Finally, bread is more acceptable for pushing food onto your fork rather than your fingers. If there isn't any bread available, use your knife. I'll make a deal with you. You can throw all of my table peccadilloes out the window at home if you'll just clean up your act in restaurants...sweetie.
He Said
With all the crime, hate, manipulation, lying, cheating and stealing in the world, you come up with bad manners. Now I know why YOU date ME. If the worse thing I ever do is put my elbows on the table or eat my pork chops and ribs with my fingers, you should be happy.
I believe in proper manners but you are going back to youth camp with your "Larry, Larry, strong and able, get your elbows off the table". Aren't we past the 3rd grade which means all grownups can get away with putting their elbows on the table? Even the President of the United States occasionally puts his elbows on the table.
Seriously, don't you think that changing the music, depending on the ethnicity of your customers, makes sense? Applebee's corporate office sure did agree. They thanked me and told me they would make that change right away. They even offered me a free meal for my suggestion, which I declined.
When I told the waitress that I was going to deduct 10% off her tip every time she called me "sweetie" or "baby", she stopped calling me these endearing terms as you like to call them.
But I digressed. Getting back to mannerisms in restaurants, I see that I am embarrassing you in public, which I would never do in a million years, so I will offer you two solutions: The first one is that we don't eat out at restaurants very often so I can stay at home and slop my gravy and eat certain foods as finger foods...or we can still go out to eat, but we'll sit at separate tables (so I won't embarrass you).
Of course that means separate checks which might be more detrimental to you than my bad manners.
Your choice " BABY."
I never thought I'd be pushed into a public complaint about restaurant behavior but here goes...and you're in the center of it! A few weeks ago when we were traveling to Virginia Beach to visit my father, we stopped to eat at Applebees because they have a Weight Watchers menu. The waitress came to the table with "What can I get for you, Baby?" It was "honey" this and "Sweetie" that. I could have let it go but you had to ask her why she called you those endearing names. I listened to her response from under the table because I was so embarrassed. I was even more surprised when she replied that she was trained to use those names so she would get bigger tips. It didn't stop there. You listened to the music briefly and then complained about it being "hip hop" and asked if they even noticed that everyone in the restaurant had gray hair. You were still talking about it three days later when you called their corporate office to complain about their service and training program. As long as I am being so picky about restaurant service, let's talk about your restaurant manners. Every time I see you eating with your elbows on the table, I can hear my mother admonishing me as a child. She also told me that fried chicken was the only finger food, not fried fish. Finally, bread is more acceptable for pushing food onto your fork rather than your fingers. If there isn't any bread available, use your knife. I'll make a deal with you. You can throw all of my table peccadilloes out the window at home if you'll just clean up your act in restaurants...sweetie.
He Said
With all the crime, hate, manipulation, lying, cheating and stealing in the world, you come up with bad manners. Now I know why YOU date ME. If the worse thing I ever do is put my elbows on the table or eat my pork chops and ribs with my fingers, you should be happy.
I believe in proper manners but you are going back to youth camp with your "Larry, Larry, strong and able, get your elbows off the table". Aren't we past the 3rd grade which means all grownups can get away with putting their elbows on the table? Even the President of the United States occasionally puts his elbows on the table.
Seriously, don't you think that changing the music, depending on the ethnicity of your customers, makes sense? Applebee's corporate office sure did agree. They thanked me and told me they would make that change right away. They even offered me a free meal for my suggestion, which I declined.
When I told the waitress that I was going to deduct 10% off her tip every time she called me "sweetie" or "baby", she stopped calling me these endearing terms as you like to call them.
But I digressed. Getting back to mannerisms in restaurants, I see that I am embarrassing you in public, which I would never do in a million years, so I will offer you two solutions: The first one is that we don't eat out at restaurants very often so I can stay at home and slop my gravy and eat certain foods as finger foods...or we can still go out to eat, but we'll sit at separate tables (so I won't embarrass you).
Of course that means separate checks which might be more detrimental to you than my bad manners.
Your choice " BABY."
Car Stuff
He Said
So you get in my car and the first words out of your mouth are not "How are you?" or "Did you have a nice day?" Your first words are: "I don't know how you can drive around in your car like this!" I say "What's wrong with it?" You say soda bottles, Dixie cups, empty straw wrappers, candy wrappers, used napkins, pieces of popcorn (from heaven knows when, maybe from our first date ten years ago), ink pens, and that's just the front seat floorboard.
I proceed to tell you that the world is made up of many different kinds of people. Everyone in the world cannot be as fastidious or as pristine as you are. We have differences. I live in my car. You drive your car to work and church. If a speck of dirt hits your car interior, out comes the vacuum cleaner. Don't get me wrong. I know there is a difference between men and women. Why do you think we write this column?
When I bought my car, the first thing you said was "Why did you buy a red one?" I said "Why not? I'm not entering the car in a beauty contest, I just need transportation. I don't care if it's blue, purple, yellow or orange". You were quick to inform me that you do not like red cars.
Don't get me wrong. I do want to please you, but the best deal was on the red car and for a $2000 savings, I'll drive red car and you will just have to pout. As for riding in a dirty car or a clean car, I say "Here's an idea: instead of you mowing the grass 3 times a week or cleaning the house four times a day, why not use that energy to clean out my car?" You'll be happy with a clean car and I will really impress our friends who have seen the inside of my car in bygone days.
Then when I pick you up, you can say "How was your day"? and I'll have to say "Take your shoes off before you get in my car!"
She Said
What just a minute Buster! There is a vast chasm of difference between a messy car from a day's travel and your car. Nano Technology could run several experiments from the bacteria that is probably growing from your collection of spilled snacks and used wrappers. If you would just keep a daily trash bag in the front seat and throw it away at the end of the day, your car would be cleaner. I know people are different and I don't think I'm abnormally neat just because I don't like to have a myriad stack of papers, books, and other "stuff" in my car. Why do you need all of that stuff in your car anyway? If you don't use it every day, you don't need it. You still have papers and catalogs from your former job that you certainly don't need. You have actually lost items in your car because they've been covered up by other "stuff". Have you even noticed that the floor mat on the passengers' side has been turned over and folded on itself for several months? No, because so much "stuff" is piled on top of it. Rain was pouring down last weekend and I couldn't find an umbrella that I had just put in there because of so much "stuff". One day you had a flat tire and looked at me whispering meekly " I know I had a spare tire in my trunk at one time!"
As far as red cars go, I don't like red anything and a car is too big to overlook. It's a female thing…color is important to us. I'm sure you could have found another color with just as big a savings even if you had to buy a different make. I'd rather have a white Ford than a red Chrysler. No matter what make or color your car is though, don't hold your breath waiting for me to clean it up. Women are judged by how clean their house is and men are judged by their cars.
So you get in my car and the first words out of your mouth are not "How are you?" or "Did you have a nice day?" Your first words are: "I don't know how you can drive around in your car like this!" I say "What's wrong with it?" You say soda bottles, Dixie cups, empty straw wrappers, candy wrappers, used napkins, pieces of popcorn (from heaven knows when, maybe from our first date ten years ago), ink pens, and that's just the front seat floorboard.
I proceed to tell you that the world is made up of many different kinds of people. Everyone in the world cannot be as fastidious or as pristine as you are. We have differences. I live in my car. You drive your car to work and church. If a speck of dirt hits your car interior, out comes the vacuum cleaner. Don't get me wrong. I know there is a difference between men and women. Why do you think we write this column?
When I bought my car, the first thing you said was "Why did you buy a red one?" I said "Why not? I'm not entering the car in a beauty contest, I just need transportation. I don't care if it's blue, purple, yellow or orange". You were quick to inform me that you do not like red cars.
Don't get me wrong. I do want to please you, but the best deal was on the red car and for a $2000 savings, I'll drive red car and you will just have to pout. As for riding in a dirty car or a clean car, I say "Here's an idea: instead of you mowing the grass 3 times a week or cleaning the house four times a day, why not use that energy to clean out my car?" You'll be happy with a clean car and I will really impress our friends who have seen the inside of my car in bygone days.
Then when I pick you up, you can say "How was your day"? and I'll have to say "Take your shoes off before you get in my car!"
She Said
What just a minute Buster! There is a vast chasm of difference between a messy car from a day's travel and your car. Nano Technology could run several experiments from the bacteria that is probably growing from your collection of spilled snacks and used wrappers. If you would just keep a daily trash bag in the front seat and throw it away at the end of the day, your car would be cleaner. I know people are different and I don't think I'm abnormally neat just because I don't like to have a myriad stack of papers, books, and other "stuff" in my car. Why do you need all of that stuff in your car anyway? If you don't use it every day, you don't need it. You still have papers and catalogs from your former job that you certainly don't need. You have actually lost items in your car because they've been covered up by other "stuff". Have you even noticed that the floor mat on the passengers' side has been turned over and folded on itself for several months? No, because so much "stuff" is piled on top of it. Rain was pouring down last weekend and I couldn't find an umbrella that I had just put in there because of so much "stuff". One day you had a flat tire and looked at me whispering meekly " I know I had a spare tire in my trunk at one time!"
As far as red cars go, I don't like red anything and a car is too big to overlook. It's a female thing…color is important to us. I'm sure you could have found another color with just as big a savings even if you had to buy a different make. I'd rather have a white Ford than a red Chrysler. No matter what make or color your car is though, don't hold your breath waiting for me to clean it up. Women are judged by how clean their house is and men are judged by their cars.
Friday, June 6, 2008
To Talk or not to Talk?
She Said
Have you ever wondered why I get drowsy while you're talking? Sometimes the steady flow and rhythm of your voice lulls me into dreamland. Now I know why. Research actually shows that lectures (yes, many times you do that) work AGAINST the human brain. Brains require workouts to learn and grow while lectures foster a couch potato mentality. After about four to eight minutes of listening to someone talk, even the brightest brains will seek another adventure.
Isn't it funny that teaching practices haven't adapted to active learning that inspires creativity and invention? Did you really enjoy all of the lectures that teachers provided while you were in school? If a person doesn't use the information stored in his active memory or if it isn't applied in some way, it evaporates to make room for incoming data.
I've always felt like lengthy discussions about the same topic are useless, which brings us back to you. You tend to repeat the same thing half a dozen time in order to make your point. No wonder I tune you out. My brain is ready for some new information.
It really is true that opposites attract, though. I'm not a compulsive talker, and you are. I don't talk unless I have something to say that I think might interest you; on the other hand, you tell everything you know . . . even if it's about yourself.
You are the most honorable person I know, and you admit that you like to talk a lot. That's what makes you such a good PR person. Plus, it sure does take the burden of providing small talk off of me. We've even laughed about numbering your stories so when you begin one, I can say “Oh yes, that's number 212. Let me finish it for you!”
He Said
To answer your question about being drowsy while I am talking . . . we need to be a bit
more honest with ourselves, don't you think? You get drowsy everywhere— the movies,
my mother's house and I am not sure that you have ever seen a full-length play in
your life. So it is not the flow and rhythm of my voice that lulls you to sleep. It is any
steady and rhythmic voice that takes you to your Nirvana.
What you consider“lectures” are some of my best comments about facts concerning your life or my life, depending on the topic. I have noticed that every time we talk about something that
you don't like or agree with, you turn a deaf ear and tune me out. Usually after one
of our long conversations, your comments that follow are about some
subject that never entered either of our conversations, leading me to believe that
you were not listening, or that you were concentrating on your next idea or presentation.
You tune me out because you don't want to hear the truth, or the truth is bothering
you in some way.
I still love you, though, and the reason we may have been attracted to each other was
my love of chat and your quietness. But what I remember as my shining hour and
what made you the love of my life was your comment about my being the most
introspective man and the most intuitive person that you had every met. But looking
back, I am sure I have told other people about this, so for you I guess you could label this story number 213.
Have you ever wondered why I get drowsy while you're talking? Sometimes the steady flow and rhythm of your voice lulls me into dreamland. Now I know why. Research actually shows that lectures (yes, many times you do that) work AGAINST the human brain. Brains require workouts to learn and grow while lectures foster a couch potato mentality. After about four to eight minutes of listening to someone talk, even the brightest brains will seek another adventure.
Isn't it funny that teaching practices haven't adapted to active learning that inspires creativity and invention? Did you really enjoy all of the lectures that teachers provided while you were in school? If a person doesn't use the information stored in his active memory or if it isn't applied in some way, it evaporates to make room for incoming data.
I've always felt like lengthy discussions about the same topic are useless, which brings us back to you. You tend to repeat the same thing half a dozen time in order to make your point. No wonder I tune you out. My brain is ready for some new information.
It really is true that opposites attract, though. I'm not a compulsive talker, and you are. I don't talk unless I have something to say that I think might interest you; on the other hand, you tell everything you know . . . even if it's about yourself.
You are the most honorable person I know, and you admit that you like to talk a lot. That's what makes you such a good PR person. Plus, it sure does take the burden of providing small talk off of me. We've even laughed about numbering your stories so when you begin one, I can say “Oh yes, that's number 212. Let me finish it for you!”
He Said
To answer your question about being drowsy while I am talking . . . we need to be a bit
more honest with ourselves, don't you think? You get drowsy everywhere— the movies,
my mother's house and I am not sure that you have ever seen a full-length play in
your life. So it is not the flow and rhythm of my voice that lulls you to sleep. It is any
steady and rhythmic voice that takes you to your Nirvana.
What you consider“lectures” are some of my best comments about facts concerning your life or my life, depending on the topic. I have noticed that every time we talk about something that
you don't like or agree with, you turn a deaf ear and tune me out. Usually after one
of our long conversations, your comments that follow are about some
subject that never entered either of our conversations, leading me to believe that
you were not listening, or that you were concentrating on your next idea or presentation.
You tune me out because you don't want to hear the truth, or the truth is bothering
you in some way.
I still love you, though, and the reason we may have been attracted to each other was
my love of chat and your quietness. But what I remember as my shining hour and
what made you the love of my life was your comment about my being the most
introspective man and the most intuitive person that you had every met. But looking
back, I am sure I have told other people about this, so for you I guess you could label this story number 213.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder . . . or does it?
He Said
Relationships are a funny business. Not literally, but funny in some ways. Take being absent from each other, for instance. All my life I have heard stories about men who go off on fishing trips and women who go on cruises with other groups of women. It makes me wonder. Do I need to be absent in your life more often?
Let me preface this by saying, I don't really want to; however, all these tales about being away from each other making you stronger got me thinking. I love being around you all the time, but would you miss my mannerisms, which annoy you daily and get on your nerves constantly after all these years, if I went on a fishing trip with the boys? I reiterate, I don't want to, but if it would make you miss me more, I could learn to fish.
My problem is I am not sure you would miss me enough or even realize that I was back, or you might find out you did not miss or need me at all. I would hate to find out that I had just become
a habit to you instead of your better half . . . or at least some half.
I think I will just give up on this fishing idea. I hate the smell of fish, I don't like the ocean, I hate all that bright sun stuff and the smell of suntan lotion makes me nauseous. Guess I'll
just hang with you.
I would miss you too much to go fishing anyway.
She Said
Good grief, what will you come up with next? Your going fishing is as likely as my driving a race car and I can tell you right now that Dale Johnson or Jimmy Earnhardt have nothing to worry about.
If you did find some new adventure to try without me and you were gone for a few days, maybe I could get some rest. Would I miss you ? Sure I would. Would I be pleased when you came back? Depends on what you brought me.
Being apart would not hurt our relationship and might give us breathing room to do our own thing. The problem as I see it is that when you returned I would have to give you a play-by-play of every minute you were away, and I just don't have the time to write all of that down . . . plus you would be calling me on my cell every five minutes with some fish story and I would be right in the middle of one of my soaps so I wouldn't talk, and you would want to know what's the matter. And so on
and so on.
No, we probably should just stay together every day or a better idea would be to go off TOGETHER on a cruise to the Cayman Islands where I could snorkel and you could learn to fish (ha ha) or I could learn to drive a race car, especially if one of those cute drivers were around to
teach me. (Do you hear me, Dr. McDreamy?)
You, fishing? . . . No one would ever buy into that fish story . . . especially me.
Relationships are a funny business. Not literally, but funny in some ways. Take being absent from each other, for instance. All my life I have heard stories about men who go off on fishing trips and women who go on cruises with other groups of women. It makes me wonder. Do I need to be absent in your life more often?
Let me preface this by saying, I don't really want to; however, all these tales about being away from each other making you stronger got me thinking. I love being around you all the time, but would you miss my mannerisms, which annoy you daily and get on your nerves constantly after all these years, if I went on a fishing trip with the boys? I reiterate, I don't want to, but if it would make you miss me more, I could learn to fish.
My problem is I am not sure you would miss me enough or even realize that I was back, or you might find out you did not miss or need me at all. I would hate to find out that I had just become
a habit to you instead of your better half . . . or at least some half.
I think I will just give up on this fishing idea. I hate the smell of fish, I don't like the ocean, I hate all that bright sun stuff and the smell of suntan lotion makes me nauseous. Guess I'll
just hang with you.
I would miss you too much to go fishing anyway.
She Said
Good grief, what will you come up with next? Your going fishing is as likely as my driving a race car and I can tell you right now that Dale Johnson or Jimmy Earnhardt have nothing to worry about.
If you did find some new adventure to try without me and you were gone for a few days, maybe I could get some rest. Would I miss you ? Sure I would. Would I be pleased when you came back? Depends on what you brought me.
Being apart would not hurt our relationship and might give us breathing room to do our own thing. The problem as I see it is that when you returned I would have to give you a play-by-play of every minute you were away, and I just don't have the time to write all of that down . . . plus you would be calling me on my cell every five minutes with some fish story and I would be right in the middle of one of my soaps so I wouldn't talk, and you would want to know what's the matter. And so on
and so on.
No, we probably should just stay together every day or a better idea would be to go off TOGETHER on a cruise to the Cayman Islands where I could snorkel and you could learn to fish (ha ha) or I could learn to drive a race car, especially if one of those cute drivers were around to
teach me. (Do you hear me, Dr. McDreamy?)
You, fishing? . . . No one would ever buy into that fish story . . . especially me.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Leftovers-to eat or not to eat
He Said by Larry Oldham
Is there anything worse than looking forward to
a pleasant evening meal after a hard day at work
and coming home to LEFTOVERS?
I really like to eat and I'm basically a
meat-and-potatoes man. I don't eat quiche;
I don't eat broiled meat; I don't eat casseroles.
And I especially don't eat leftovers. If it wasn't
good enough to be eaten the first time around, why
would I want to give it a second chance to taste better?
I'm more than willing to go out to dinner rather
than eat a repeat from the night before. Maybe
these feelings come from years ago when I would
clean out the refrigerator and find what appeared
to be a science project waiting to have mold tested.
I won't even eat bread if it's more than a couple of
days old. I calculate the price of a sandwich from a
restaurant and figure I'm way ahead even if I throw
away half a loaf. You've tried to fool me by serving
rerun vegetables, but I can always tell, so I just
leave them on my plate. Get the message?
The only exception that I'll make is spaghetti. After
the seasonings have settled overnight, it actually
tastes better the second time. Sometimes I'll even
eat leftover biscuits if they're toasted and oozing
with butter, but I have to close my eyes and hold my
nose so I won't miss the freshness.
I had an aunt and uncle who farmed and grew all of
their food and raised cows and pigs. She made homemade
biscuits, gravy, eggs, bacon and sausage every day for
breakfast. Lunch was meat, vegetables, bread and dessert.
Dinner was even more meat, potatoes, vegetables, homemade
bread and dessert. She cooked and canned all day long.
She wouldn't dream of serving leftovers; everything was
homegrown and the meat was always fresh, not frozen.
The French still eat that way today. They take two hours
for lunch and shop every day so their food is fresh.
Their refrigerators are small because they don't store
a lot of food. Maybe I should move to France so my palate
will be pampered in the same way.
She Said by Dena Hill
This may come as a big revelation to you, but my
favorite day of the week is LEFTOVER DAY.
I can come home from work, go for a walk, play
with the dog, watch TV or whatever my little heart
desires, instead of planning dinner, shopping for
ingredients, cooking, and cleaning up.
I never serve leftovers the very next day.
You get a break by having at least one or two
days in-between. Hopefully, by that time you've
forgotten that we had it before.
(Oops! You're taking notes, aren't you? )
I have a friend who puts all of her leftovers
for the week into one big bowl and on Friday nights,
she makes soup. It never tastes the same because
all of her meals were different, and the soup is delicious.
You say you don't like casseroles. You really don't
like any food that has more than three ingredients
in it. I probably should be glad because it doesn't
take much talent to fry chicken, grill steaks, and
bake potatoes. Oh yes, as long as the can opener
works, we'll have "fresh" vegetables.
Your aunt and uncle worked their farm from sun-up
until sundown and didn't leave to go to public jobs.
I leave at 7:30 and get home between 4:00 and 5:00,
so daily shopping is not an option. I have 30 minutes
for lunch, not two hours like the French. Our lifestyle
is so different from Europeans that if you really want
to compare apples to apples (no pun intended) then you
need to look at a culture of people where both partners
work and there are no maids, butlers, chauffeurs,
nannies, but ordinary working folks like us.
All things considered, leftovers once in a while
can be considered a mini vacation. Readers?
larry.oldham0@gmail.com
Is there anything worse than looking forward to
a pleasant evening meal after a hard day at work
and coming home to LEFTOVERS?
I really like to eat and I'm basically a
meat-and-potatoes man. I don't eat quiche;
I don't eat broiled meat; I don't eat casseroles.
And I especially don't eat leftovers. If it wasn't
good enough to be eaten the first time around, why
would I want to give it a second chance to taste better?
I'm more than willing to go out to dinner rather
than eat a repeat from the night before. Maybe
these feelings come from years ago when I would
clean out the refrigerator and find what appeared
to be a science project waiting to have mold tested.
I won't even eat bread if it's more than a couple of
days old. I calculate the price of a sandwich from a
restaurant and figure I'm way ahead even if I throw
away half a loaf. You've tried to fool me by serving
rerun vegetables, but I can always tell, so I just
leave them on my plate. Get the message?
The only exception that I'll make is spaghetti. After
the seasonings have settled overnight, it actually
tastes better the second time. Sometimes I'll even
eat leftover biscuits if they're toasted and oozing
with butter, but I have to close my eyes and hold my
nose so I won't miss the freshness.
I had an aunt and uncle who farmed and grew all of
their food and raised cows and pigs. She made homemade
biscuits, gravy, eggs, bacon and sausage every day for
breakfast. Lunch was meat, vegetables, bread and dessert.
Dinner was even more meat, potatoes, vegetables, homemade
bread and dessert. She cooked and canned all day long.
She wouldn't dream of serving leftovers; everything was
homegrown and the meat was always fresh, not frozen.
The French still eat that way today. They take two hours
for lunch and shop every day so their food is fresh.
Their refrigerators are small because they don't store
a lot of food. Maybe I should move to France so my palate
will be pampered in the same way.
She Said by Dena Hill
This may come as a big revelation to you, but my
favorite day of the week is LEFTOVER DAY.
I can come home from work, go for a walk, play
with the dog, watch TV or whatever my little heart
desires, instead of planning dinner, shopping for
ingredients, cooking, and cleaning up.
I never serve leftovers the very next day.
You get a break by having at least one or two
days in-between. Hopefully, by that time you've
forgotten that we had it before.
(Oops! You're taking notes, aren't you? )
I have a friend who puts all of her leftovers
for the week into one big bowl and on Friday nights,
she makes soup. It never tastes the same because
all of her meals were different, and the soup is delicious.
You say you don't like casseroles. You really don't
like any food that has more than three ingredients
in it. I probably should be glad because it doesn't
take much talent to fry chicken, grill steaks, and
bake potatoes. Oh yes, as long as the can opener
works, we'll have "fresh" vegetables.
Your aunt and uncle worked their farm from sun-up
until sundown and didn't leave to go to public jobs.
I leave at 7:30 and get home between 4:00 and 5:00,
so daily shopping is not an option. I have 30 minutes
for lunch, not two hours like the French. Our lifestyle
is so different from Europeans that if you really want
to compare apples to apples (no pun intended) then you
need to look at a culture of people where both partners
work and there are no maids, butlers, chauffeurs,
nannies, but ordinary working folks like us.
All things considered, leftovers once in a while
can be considered a mini vacation. Readers?
larry.oldham0@gmail.com
Friday, April 11, 2008
She Said He Said-Venus and Mars etc.
She Said
Mars and Venus are alive and kicking in the Hill/Oldham relationship. Want proof? Check out the differences between men and women in "the world according to Dena."
It's a standing joke that men will drive up and down the same streets repeatedly all the while looking for the right house because the intended hostess said "We're in the directory" and Mr. Too-Proud-To-Ask-For directions decides to find it himself. A counterpoint would be that women always take too long "getting ready" and that's why we're always late. Well, we reserve the right to take longer getting ready to go out than men do. But that's because we have more details to attend to. A national survey showed that each 15 minutes it takes for a woman to get ready increases her chances of success by 6% (success at what wasn't clarified, but when you're my age, any success is welcomed!) Many men take 15 minutes from start to finish, so do the math. Sorry guys, you weren't included in the survey.
Because many of us gals work away from home we have double duty at night when its dinner time with dishes, laundry, homework, etc. While the women of the Baby Boomer Generation tried to do it all, the women of Generation X have learned from our mistakes. They're smarter than we were. They're demanding more equality in sharing household responsibilities when they, too, are putting in a hard day on the job.
Hats off to the men who willingly share household chores and why not? Contrary to popular belief, men, you won't get a hernia from picking up your socks. The worst thing that can happen is you'll make more time for togetherness as a couple, instead of singleness for pounding the remote control.
Speaking of remotes, why do men like to surf channels while commercials are on? How are we supposed to know what new products are on the market if we don't see them advertised? Men can single-handedly cause a collapse in free enterprise, if women don't know what to buy! These are the same men who can channel surf and keep score on three games at once, but who can't follow a conversation with their significant other while the TV is on thanks to their one-track minds. How many times have I heard "Don't talk to me while I'm watching TV!" Selective attentiveness.
Now about the toilet seat and the age-old question: up or down? I really don't care. It takes just as much effort to lower it as it does to raise it, so it really isn't a big deal to me. But why not show a little consideration and take turns with it after each person has used it? 50-50 is a good compromise.
However, 50-50 isn't such a good compromise when it comes to driving on trips. That's definitely a man's job. Women should just be pleasant companions who add levity to a dreary trip and point out beautiful sights along the way.
These little idiosyncrasies often end up with Mr. Mars pouting, so when your smiley face is turned upside down, why not just go back in your cave? If you're good, you can come out with Puxatawny Phil in February.
He Said
Miss Venus wants to talk about the differences between Men and Women. I'm game. Let me take them in order from the male perspective, or at least from this man's perspective.
Directions: In our case, usually Miss Venus has gotten the directions from her friends or family. Normally she has written the wrong street name, forgotten whether to turn left or right, or puts down 20 miles instead of 2 miles. If I stopped to ask someone, the directions would still be wrong because of incorrect initial information. Let's just say men can't win either way.
Getting ready: I say to Miss Venus how much time do you need to get ready? She answers, "not too long; maybe an hour." I sit and wait patiently wondering why the shower is still running 30 minutes later. She must be the reason for our present drought! Two hours later when I go to check on her progress, she is standing in front of the TV watching the rest of some previously recorded soap opera. If I don't go in and check on her and she comes out in two hours, I ask her, "What took so long?" She answers, "Bad Hair Day." Men can't win either way.
Household Duties: My mom and dad both worked everyday. They both also did the household duties. When I come in and ask if I can help, Miss Venus always says,
"Oh no, you go read the paper; dinner will be ready in a few minutes."
It's the same with mowing the yard. She says she would rather do it, because she cuts it a certain way.
In both of these instances, it's not that she doesn't want my help.
She just feels that I'm incapable of pleasing her the way she wants the job done.
Men can't win either way.
The thing about the remote. (This was the best one yet.) I can't remember the last time we went to a movie or watched TV when she did not fall asleep. I don't have a choice now. She must pass my test. As soon as she falls asleep, I put my hand up over her eyes about an inch from her face and hold it there for a minute. When I remove my hand, turn to her and ask, "Are you sleeping"? Her response is always the same. "I'm not sleeping." So flipping channels, watching racing, or whatever, really shouldn't matter to her. She'll be sleeping anyway and I'll get chastised for channel surfing. Men can't win either way.
The toilet seat we agree on. Today I'm putting a chart on the wall in front of the toilet. When you raise the seat, put a check by your name. When I raise the seat, I'll put a check by my name. We will each put $50 in the kitty and at the end of the month, whoever has the most check marks wins the kitty. To my knowledge no woman I have ever known has raised the toilet lid when finished, so maybe this time a man will finally come out on top....
And I thought that a man couldn't win.
Mars and Venus are alive and kicking in the Hill/Oldham relationship. Want proof? Check out the differences between men and women in "the world according to Dena."
It's a standing joke that men will drive up and down the same streets repeatedly all the while looking for the right house because the intended hostess said "We're in the directory" and Mr. Too-Proud-To-Ask-For directions decides to find it himself. A counterpoint would be that women always take too long "getting ready" and that's why we're always late. Well, we reserve the right to take longer getting ready to go out than men do. But that's because we have more details to attend to. A national survey showed that each 15 minutes it takes for a woman to get ready increases her chances of success by 6% (success at what wasn't clarified, but when you're my age, any success is welcomed!) Many men take 15 minutes from start to finish, so do the math. Sorry guys, you weren't included in the survey.
Because many of us gals work away from home we have double duty at night when its dinner time with dishes, laundry, homework, etc. While the women of the Baby Boomer Generation tried to do it all, the women of Generation X have learned from our mistakes. They're smarter than we were. They're demanding more equality in sharing household responsibilities when they, too, are putting in a hard day on the job.
Hats off to the men who willingly share household chores and why not? Contrary to popular belief, men, you won't get a hernia from picking up your socks. The worst thing that can happen is you'll make more time for togetherness as a couple, instead of singleness for pounding the remote control.
Speaking of remotes, why do men like to surf channels while commercials are on? How are we supposed to know what new products are on the market if we don't see them advertised? Men can single-handedly cause a collapse in free enterprise, if women don't know what to buy! These are the same men who can channel surf and keep score on three games at once, but who can't follow a conversation with their significant other while the TV is on thanks to their one-track minds. How many times have I heard "Don't talk to me while I'm watching TV!" Selective attentiveness.
Now about the toilet seat and the age-old question: up or down? I really don't care. It takes just as much effort to lower it as it does to raise it, so it really isn't a big deal to me. But why not show a little consideration and take turns with it after each person has used it? 50-50 is a good compromise.
However, 50-50 isn't such a good compromise when it comes to driving on trips. That's definitely a man's job. Women should just be pleasant companions who add levity to a dreary trip and point out beautiful sights along the way.
These little idiosyncrasies often end up with Mr. Mars pouting, so when your smiley face is turned upside down, why not just go back in your cave? If you're good, you can come out with Puxatawny Phil in February.
He Said
Miss Venus wants to talk about the differences between Men and Women. I'm game. Let me take them in order from the male perspective, or at least from this man's perspective.
Directions: In our case, usually Miss Venus has gotten the directions from her friends or family. Normally she has written the wrong street name, forgotten whether to turn left or right, or puts down 20 miles instead of 2 miles. If I stopped to ask someone, the directions would still be wrong because of incorrect initial information. Let's just say men can't win either way.
Getting ready: I say to Miss Venus how much time do you need to get ready? She answers, "not too long; maybe an hour." I sit and wait patiently wondering why the shower is still running 30 minutes later. She must be the reason for our present drought! Two hours later when I go to check on her progress, she is standing in front of the TV watching the rest of some previously recorded soap opera. If I don't go in and check on her and she comes out in two hours, I ask her, "What took so long?" She answers, "Bad Hair Day." Men can't win either way.
Household Duties: My mom and dad both worked everyday. They both also did the household duties. When I come in and ask if I can help, Miss Venus always says,
"Oh no, you go read the paper; dinner will be ready in a few minutes."
It's the same with mowing the yard. She says she would rather do it, because she cuts it a certain way.
In both of these instances, it's not that she doesn't want my help.
She just feels that I'm incapable of pleasing her the way she wants the job done.
Men can't win either way.
The thing about the remote. (This was the best one yet.) I can't remember the last time we went to a movie or watched TV when she did not fall asleep. I don't have a choice now. She must pass my test. As soon as she falls asleep, I put my hand up over her eyes about an inch from her face and hold it there for a minute. When I remove my hand, turn to her and ask, "Are you sleeping"? Her response is always the same. "I'm not sleeping." So flipping channels, watching racing, or whatever, really shouldn't matter to her. She'll be sleeping anyway and I'll get chastised for channel surfing. Men can't win either way.
The toilet seat we agree on. Today I'm putting a chart on the wall in front of the toilet. When you raise the seat, put a check by your name. When I raise the seat, I'll put a check by my name. We will each put $50 in the kitty and at the end of the month, whoever has the most check marks wins the kitty. To my knowledge no woman I have ever known has raised the toilet lid when finished, so maybe this time a man will finally come out on top....
And I thought that a man couldn't win.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
He Said She Said - Where would you like to eat, Honey?
He Said
I already know the answer to this question but just for the sake of argument, let's break it down into parts: the first part is about who makes the decision. In a democratic society, one could take a vote. Of course if the parties are you and your significant other, the outcome will be one to one. Then what? Or you could agree that since I decided the last time, you get to choose this time but let's face it, we're OLD and our memories aren't what they used to be. ( Or is it my selective memory, again!) I pride myself on being a gentleman so I always ask you where you want to go. Since you're such a lady, you always say that anywhere I choose is fine with you. So I choose after twelve or fifteen times of ping-pong conversation and a half a tank of gas. Here's a good example. I tell you that I want barbecue and then you politely tell me that you're not in the mood for barbecue or I don't like that restaurant. "But you just told me that I could choose!", I retort. "Fine" you say quietly as you give in. The next thing I hear is "But I'm going back on my diet". Translation: You can eat there if you want to but since I don't like that place, I'll silently protest and refuse to eat. The subterfuge is telling you I'm on a diet. The other part of this question could be that whoever pays, chooses the restaurant. But if I always pay, then I always choose, and you always are on a diet. This would save me lots of money; however, I would be always eating alone. You would be sitting across from me but I would be feeling so guilty about you drinking water and smelling the bread, that I could never enjoy my meal. I guess the third part of this situation could be to just stay home and eat what you cook. The other angle here is that since we both work full time, why should you have to be the one to cook and clean? So I gallantly offer to cook dinner for you. The biggest problem of all is that I don't cook.
She Said
How convenient... you don't cook. Do you think I was born knowing how to boil water? You can read, can't you? You can follow directions, can't you? Opps...I almost forgot...most men don't ask for directions! You were beginning to sound somewhat rational until you veered off into your fantasy world. How many times have you cooked for me? If you did, what did you cook? Deviled eggs and lemon pie out of a box? Not on my diet! As a working mother who has always cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner without complaining, I think you are blowing this "where to eat" thing all out of proportion. When you say "let's eat out" I just assume you are tired of my cooking or there is a new restaurant that you want to try out or you finally figured out that I work longer hours than you do and it would be nice to have a break from the dinner/dirty dishes routine. So let's break it down into parts as you say. If you're tired of my cooking, you can eat at your house, bring your own food over, or cook dinner for yourself. If you want to try a new restaurant, I'm game. Just tell me when, what time, etc., and take me there. Don't make such a big deal out of it. If you're planning to give me a break, that's GREAT! It will be greatly appreciated. I always knew how thoughtful you were and dinner out is a loving way to show it. To be honest with you, I don't really care where we eat or IF we eat out at all, except on special occasions. When you want to eat out, pick a place, pay for it, and then you'll be happy and I'll be happy. Remember, I don't have to have French Cuisine and Caviar every day especially since you're a meat and potatoes guy like most men. Besides, you eat out every day at lunch so dinner can't be but so important to you. Speaking of lunch, let's get back to the Danview cook. What's going on there?
I already know the answer to this question but just for the sake of argument, let's break it down into parts: the first part is about who makes the decision. In a democratic society, one could take a vote. Of course if the parties are you and your significant other, the outcome will be one to one. Then what? Or you could agree that since I decided the last time, you get to choose this time but let's face it, we're OLD and our memories aren't what they used to be. ( Or is it my selective memory, again!) I pride myself on being a gentleman so I always ask you where you want to go. Since you're such a lady, you always say that anywhere I choose is fine with you. So I choose after twelve or fifteen times of ping-pong conversation and a half a tank of gas. Here's a good example. I tell you that I want barbecue and then you politely tell me that you're not in the mood for barbecue or I don't like that restaurant. "But you just told me that I could choose!", I retort. "Fine" you say quietly as you give in. The next thing I hear is "But I'm going back on my diet". Translation: You can eat there if you want to but since I don't like that place, I'll silently protest and refuse to eat. The subterfuge is telling you I'm on a diet. The other part of this question could be that whoever pays, chooses the restaurant. But if I always pay, then I always choose, and you always are on a diet. This would save me lots of money; however, I would be always eating alone. You would be sitting across from me but I would be feeling so guilty about you drinking water and smelling the bread, that I could never enjoy my meal. I guess the third part of this situation could be to just stay home and eat what you cook. The other angle here is that since we both work full time, why should you have to be the one to cook and clean? So I gallantly offer to cook dinner for you. The biggest problem of all is that I don't cook.
She Said
How convenient... you don't cook. Do you think I was born knowing how to boil water? You can read, can't you? You can follow directions, can't you? Opps...I almost forgot...most men don't ask for directions! You were beginning to sound somewhat rational until you veered off into your fantasy world. How many times have you cooked for me? If you did, what did you cook? Deviled eggs and lemon pie out of a box? Not on my diet! As a working mother who has always cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner without complaining, I think you are blowing this "where to eat" thing all out of proportion. When you say "let's eat out" I just assume you are tired of my cooking or there is a new restaurant that you want to try out or you finally figured out that I work longer hours than you do and it would be nice to have a break from the dinner/dirty dishes routine. So let's break it down into parts as you say. If you're tired of my cooking, you can eat at your house, bring your own food over, or cook dinner for yourself. If you want to try a new restaurant, I'm game. Just tell me when, what time, etc., and take me there. Don't make such a big deal out of it. If you're planning to give me a break, that's GREAT! It will be greatly appreciated. I always knew how thoughtful you were and dinner out is a loving way to show it. To be honest with you, I don't really care where we eat or IF we eat out at all, except on special occasions. When you want to eat out, pick a place, pay for it, and then you'll be happy and I'll be happy. Remember, I don't have to have French Cuisine and Caviar every day especially since you're a meat and potatoes guy like most men. Besides, you eat out every day at lunch so dinner can't be but so important to you. Speaking of lunch, let's get back to the Danview cook. What's going on there?
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
He Said She Said - Learn to Ski ?
He Said
by Larry Oldham
As I might have mentioned in an earlier column, I’m not really big on sports. A great weekend trip for me would be going to New York to see a play, doing a little shopping, dining in a couple of fine restaurants. So you can guess how excited I was when my fiancée suggested that we go to New York for the weekend.
I dashed to my computer to search for hotels, Broadway shows, favorite restaurants. I was like a kid with a new toy. Then she dropped the bomb. “Oh, we’re going to New York all right, but not to Manhattan. We’re going to Cazenovia, New York.” This is about 20 miles from Syracuse and guess what folks. We are going skiing!
Mr. Coordinated, Mr. Big Time Sports Guy, Mr. “I Wish I Was At The Mall” is going to demonstrate for the world how to break his neck!
“No, No,” she says, “not on a slope...we’re going cross country skiing for the exercise.”
“Well that’s different. Why didn’t you say so in the first place? You know how much I like to exercise! You can look at my physique and tell that.
We flew out of Greensboro at 6:30 a.m., leaving Danville at 3:30 a.m. Fortunately in New York, we stayed with relatives, which was great. (Thanks Bill and Betsy for your hospitality!) By the way, the airline lost our luggage for the whole weekend so we had to ski naked...OK, I made that naked part up, but it would have been cool. (No pun intended.) All was not in vain though, because while she was skiing, I was on the snowmobile looking for a shopping mall. I didn’t find one, but I did find a nice little Italian restaurant that helped a little, PLUS I lived to tell this story.
She Said
by Dena Hill
MEN! Either put up or shut up. Two weeks ago he wanted to go out-of-town to a play at the Prizery followed by dinner at the Molasses Grill (which was delicious, I might add) and so we did. Did I complain? No. We met some of our friends and had an enjoyable time. But now for something different.....
I suggested that we go to see my cousin in New York because they had 5 feet of snow. We could ski, snowmobile, and maybe even ice fish. It was my turn to look forward to a great weekend. We flew up, rented a car, and met my cousin on Friday afternoon. Mr. Sports Guy didn’t want to cross country ski...too boring...too cold...too tiring.
Mr. Whiner wanted to sit by the fireplace and watch it snow while looking in the paper for what was on sale at the malls.
Bill finally enticed him out to the garage where he met the snowmobile. End of story. One trip flying around the trail and we couldn’t get him back in the house. What a speed demon! He rode that snowmobile for 2 days straight while I tried to keep my skis on.
I spent a lot of time falling and he spent lot of time picking me up—but not from a ski tumble. He turned the snowmobile over twice.
Cazenovia is a beautiful, quaint little village that we love to visit every summer and go boating on the lake. Well, this time of year, the lake is frozen with a foot of ice. I actually drilled a hole and measured it. After 2 hours of begging, I finally got my star snowmobile athlete to walk out on the lake and ice fish. The Brave One didn’t stay long though because he didn’t catch a fish and he whined about how cold it was.
From my perspective, it gave a whole new meaning to his superiority complex and the probability that one day he could walk on water. This week he finally did... too bad it was frozen!
by Larry Oldham
As I might have mentioned in an earlier column, I’m not really big on sports. A great weekend trip for me would be going to New York to see a play, doing a little shopping, dining in a couple of fine restaurants. So you can guess how excited I was when my fiancée suggested that we go to New York for the weekend.
I dashed to my computer to search for hotels, Broadway shows, favorite restaurants. I was like a kid with a new toy. Then she dropped the bomb. “Oh, we’re going to New York all right, but not to Manhattan. We’re going to Cazenovia, New York.” This is about 20 miles from Syracuse and guess what folks. We are going skiing!
Mr. Coordinated, Mr. Big Time Sports Guy, Mr. “I Wish I Was At The Mall” is going to demonstrate for the world how to break his neck!
“No, No,” she says, “not on a slope...we’re going cross country skiing for the exercise.”
“Well that’s different. Why didn’t you say so in the first place? You know how much I like to exercise! You can look at my physique and tell that.
We flew out of Greensboro at 6:30 a.m., leaving Danville at 3:30 a.m. Fortunately in New York, we stayed with relatives, which was great. (Thanks Bill and Betsy for your hospitality!) By the way, the airline lost our luggage for the whole weekend so we had to ski naked...OK, I made that naked part up, but it would have been cool. (No pun intended.) All was not in vain though, because while she was skiing, I was on the snowmobile looking for a shopping mall. I didn’t find one, but I did find a nice little Italian restaurant that helped a little, PLUS I lived to tell this story.
She Said
by Dena Hill
MEN! Either put up or shut up. Two weeks ago he wanted to go out-of-town to a play at the Prizery followed by dinner at the Molasses Grill (which was delicious, I might add) and so we did. Did I complain? No. We met some of our friends and had an enjoyable time. But now for something different.....
I suggested that we go to see my cousin in New York because they had 5 feet of snow. We could ski, snowmobile, and maybe even ice fish. It was my turn to look forward to a great weekend. We flew up, rented a car, and met my cousin on Friday afternoon. Mr. Sports Guy didn’t want to cross country ski...too boring...too cold...too tiring.
Mr. Whiner wanted to sit by the fireplace and watch it snow while looking in the paper for what was on sale at the malls.
Bill finally enticed him out to the garage where he met the snowmobile. End of story. One trip flying around the trail and we couldn’t get him back in the house. What a speed demon! He rode that snowmobile for 2 days straight while I tried to keep my skis on.
I spent a lot of time falling and he spent lot of time picking me up—but not from a ski tumble. He turned the snowmobile over twice.
Cazenovia is a beautiful, quaint little village that we love to visit every summer and go boating on the lake. Well, this time of year, the lake is frozen with a foot of ice. I actually drilled a hole and measured it. After 2 hours of begging, I finally got my star snowmobile athlete to walk out on the lake and ice fish. The Brave One didn’t stay long though because he didn’t catch a fish and he whined about how cold it was.
From my perspective, it gave a whole new meaning to his superiority complex and the probability that one day he could walk on water. This week he finally did... too bad it was frozen!
Sunday, March 30, 2008
He Said She Said - Watching TV
He Said:
Does anyone remember what life was like before Television: families talking to each other, neighbors being neighborly, reading a book either for entertainment or for knowledge? Some people argue that we don't need books anymore because we have the internet. I am doing my part. I am buying every book I want to read some day. So far I have accumulated thousands of titles. Back to television. Everyone I know gets up in the morning and turns on the TV while getting ready for work (except the non-working friends) and you know who you are. When they come home from work, the first thing they do is turn on their TV. When they go to bed they set the timer on their TV so they can go to sleep. I call this death by Letterman. Pardon me, I meant sleep by Letterman. When Dena (my fiance') wants to go to sleep, she just asks me to talk to her or tell one of my famous stories,which always put her to sleep. I will admit that I occasionally watch Cops or Forensic Science or maybe an episode of Survivors, or maybe The Amazing Race. Dena does make me watch all of the Monday night sitcoms, which I find amusing in some ways; but to just turn the TV on for noise sake seems a disgrace to our own intelligence. I mean you do have the dog barking (incessantly), your son to talk to, or I can always tell you one of my many stories. I am not superior to anyone else, I just want to go back to an easier, friendlier, talk and listen relationship with family, friends, and neighbors. Now is that asking too much? If I could shoot all TV's, it would certainly put me out of my misery. It would also help a lot of other people to get a life. However, some people would go into withdrawals without their TV's and my killing the TV's before the conclusion of this seasons' Survivor would only result in opening the killing season on me. Then I would end up being on TV.Wouldn't that be ironic?
She Said:
Okay Mr. Pseudo Intellectual who thinks he's above TV. I've got two words for you: CLOSET WATCHER. You go around telling everybody you don't watch TV. You say you would rather read, when what you are reading is the TV Guide to find out when the next episode of Cops or World's Most Famous Car Chases comes on. You don't necessarily sneak around like a closet eater, but you act like you don't watch TV when in reality you do watch it. Who has fifteen boxes of recorded tapes of the OJ Trial? You recorded them off of WHAT? Oh, I remember, you recorded them off of the TV. Just because you don't watch it at the time, does not mean you are not watching it off of the TV! What about all of those times when you have meetings and you ask me to record Survivor or The Amazing Race? When you come over to watch those recorded shows, that is a form of TV watching to me. Let's take a look: THE CLASS, HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER, TWO AND A HALF MEN, CHRISTINA, WHAT ABOUT BRIAN, GREY'S ANATOMY, SURVIVOR, THE AMAZING RACE, NANCY GRACE, FORENSIC SCIENCE, and COPS. The last time I looked, these were all TV shows, not radio shows. As for you shooting your TV, you are much too frugal with money to destroy property. I have never seen you shoot a gun so you are probably a poor shot, and the biggest reason you won't kill your TV is because there is no TV Hunting Season Guide to tell you when to hunt and God forbid you miss a season of 24 or LOST. You need to dump this TV thing and if you want me, I'll be in my room watching DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES, which I am beginning to feel like!
Does anyone remember what life was like before Television: families talking to each other, neighbors being neighborly, reading a book either for entertainment or for knowledge? Some people argue that we don't need books anymore because we have the internet. I am doing my part. I am buying every book I want to read some day. So far I have accumulated thousands of titles. Back to television. Everyone I know gets up in the morning and turns on the TV while getting ready for work (except the non-working friends) and you know who you are. When they come home from work, the first thing they do is turn on their TV. When they go to bed they set the timer on their TV so they can go to sleep. I call this death by Letterman. Pardon me, I meant sleep by Letterman. When Dena (my fiance') wants to go to sleep, she just asks me to talk to her or tell one of my famous stories,which always put her to sleep. I will admit that I occasionally watch Cops or Forensic Science or maybe an episode of Survivors, or maybe The Amazing Race. Dena does make me watch all of the Monday night sitcoms, which I find amusing in some ways; but to just turn the TV on for noise sake seems a disgrace to our own intelligence. I mean you do have the dog barking (incessantly), your son to talk to, or I can always tell you one of my many stories. I am not superior to anyone else, I just want to go back to an easier, friendlier, talk and listen relationship with family, friends, and neighbors. Now is that asking too much? If I could shoot all TV's, it would certainly put me out of my misery. It would also help a lot of other people to get a life. However, some people would go into withdrawals without their TV's and my killing the TV's before the conclusion of this seasons' Survivor would only result in opening the killing season on me. Then I would end up being on TV.Wouldn't that be ironic?
She Said:
Okay Mr. Pseudo Intellectual who thinks he's above TV. I've got two words for you: CLOSET WATCHER. You go around telling everybody you don't watch TV. You say you would rather read, when what you are reading is the TV Guide to find out when the next episode of Cops or World's Most Famous Car Chases comes on. You don't necessarily sneak around like a closet eater, but you act like you don't watch TV when in reality you do watch it. Who has fifteen boxes of recorded tapes of the OJ Trial? You recorded them off of WHAT? Oh, I remember, you recorded them off of the TV. Just because you don't watch it at the time, does not mean you are not watching it off of the TV! What about all of those times when you have meetings and you ask me to record Survivor or The Amazing Race? When you come over to watch those recorded shows, that is a form of TV watching to me. Let's take a look: THE CLASS, HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER, TWO AND A HALF MEN, CHRISTINA, WHAT ABOUT BRIAN, GREY'S ANATOMY, SURVIVOR, THE AMAZING RACE, NANCY GRACE, FORENSIC SCIENCE, and COPS. The last time I looked, these were all TV shows, not radio shows. As for you shooting your TV, you are much too frugal with money to destroy property. I have never seen you shoot a gun so you are probably a poor shot, and the biggest reason you won't kill your TV is because there is no TV Hunting Season Guide to tell you when to hunt and God forbid you miss a season of 24 or LOST. You need to dump this TV thing and if you want me, I'll be in my room watching DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES, which I am beginning to feel like!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
He Said She Said -Vacations
He Said
July must mean it is time to start making vacation plans.
When the kids were young, this was a pretty simple task.
Where are the most RIDES going to be? Now that the kids
have escaped and are making their own vacations plans
or having their own vacation woes, here we are!
I, of course, like certain places to prop up my feet,
get up and go to bed when I want to, get a soda
on my own schedule with no one to answer to except my spouse,
of course. If I can get her to agree to where I want to go
and plan the vacation, she does pretty well. After all,
she is a very even tempered person who only lives to
make sure I am happy at all times; that is, after the
children, the dog, the fish, people at work, people at
church, the neighbors, our friends, the UPS man and whoever
is delivering the mail this week.
New York to me is exciting, especially Manhattan--the plays,
the food, and the shopping choices which amount to
hundreds of stores to peruse. Myrtle Beach is nice--good food,
the roar and splendor of the ocean and that new mall is not
bad either. Atlanta, Gatlinburg, Virginia Beach, Florida. All of
these places I can go and relax and have a good time.
Vacation to her is staying at home and getting all of those
jobs done that WE (and I use that term lightly) can accomplish
working together as a team. I call them projects. Blowing insulation
into the attic, mulching around the house, painting all of the
bedrooms does not constitute vacation time to me. Heck, I might
as well be at work where I have it easier, plus I get paid for being
there. Maybe I’ll tell her I can’t take vacation this year because
I’m too busy. At the very least, I’ll get out of having to fix gutters
or what other ideas she puts into that job jar.
She Said
Teaching school all year and getting home at 4:00 or 5:00 p.m. every
day does not leave me a lot of time to get my “projects” as you
call them started or even close to being finished. What you call
projects is what other families call keeping your house up. The house
won’t fix itself.
In the past when I mentioned vacation destinations, you would
sort of turn up your nose and make a face or question why I would
want to go to those places. I did notice your ears perk up when I
told you that they had a Wal-Mart in Hawaii. You are the only man
I know who can take two days to drive to Atlanta, which is normally
a five-hour trip, because you have to stop at every mall, Wal-Mart,
K mart, produce stand, and hobby shop between here and Georgia.
I have been to Myrtle Beach with you more than once and I don’t
think in all of those times have I actually been on the beach. I am
not sure if you even know there IS a beach at Myrtle Beach.
However, I do know every store in the Outlet Mall, regular mall,
and every fleabitten piece of memorabilia at the flea markets.
I think visiting the cathedrals and museums in London or the
Louvre and the Eiffel Tower in Paris would be exceptional
vacations. But the problem for you would be no Wal-Mart,
no mall--only exotic food, that you don’t like, a
foreign language that you don’t speak and a lot of walking,
which you are allergic to. I imagine a vacation in Europe with
you would be a week of all WHINE and no cheese. The best thing
to do is stay home.
I’ll do my projects. You sit on the porch drinking your tea
and reading your books. I’ll be happy; you’ll be rested,
and we’ll both save money. But I’m not cooking.
Vacation week...you are buying dinner out every night.
HAPPY VACATION.
© Larry Oldham, 2007
July must mean it is time to start making vacation plans.
When the kids were young, this was a pretty simple task.
Where are the most RIDES going to be? Now that the kids
have escaped and are making their own vacations plans
or having their own vacation woes, here we are!
I, of course, like certain places to prop up my feet,
get up and go to bed when I want to, get a soda
on my own schedule with no one to answer to except my spouse,
of course. If I can get her to agree to where I want to go
and plan the vacation, she does pretty well. After all,
she is a very even tempered person who only lives to
make sure I am happy at all times; that is, after the
children, the dog, the fish, people at work, people at
church, the neighbors, our friends, the UPS man and whoever
is delivering the mail this week.
New York to me is exciting, especially Manhattan--the plays,
the food, and the shopping choices which amount to
hundreds of stores to peruse. Myrtle Beach is nice--good food,
the roar and splendor of the ocean and that new mall is not
bad either. Atlanta, Gatlinburg, Virginia Beach, Florida. All of
these places I can go and relax and have a good time.
Vacation to her is staying at home and getting all of those
jobs done that WE (and I use that term lightly) can accomplish
working together as a team. I call them projects. Blowing insulation
into the attic, mulching around the house, painting all of the
bedrooms does not constitute vacation time to me. Heck, I might
as well be at work where I have it easier, plus I get paid for being
there. Maybe I’ll tell her I can’t take vacation this year because
I’m too busy. At the very least, I’ll get out of having to fix gutters
or what other ideas she puts into that job jar.
She Said
Teaching school all year and getting home at 4:00 or 5:00 p.m. every
day does not leave me a lot of time to get my “projects” as you
call them started or even close to being finished. What you call
projects is what other families call keeping your house up. The house
won’t fix itself.
In the past when I mentioned vacation destinations, you would
sort of turn up your nose and make a face or question why I would
want to go to those places. I did notice your ears perk up when I
told you that they had a Wal-Mart in Hawaii. You are the only man
I know who can take two days to drive to Atlanta, which is normally
a five-hour trip, because you have to stop at every mall, Wal-Mart,
K mart, produce stand, and hobby shop between here and Georgia.
I have been to Myrtle Beach with you more than once and I don’t
think in all of those times have I actually been on the beach. I am
not sure if you even know there IS a beach at Myrtle Beach.
However, I do know every store in the Outlet Mall, regular mall,
and every fleabitten piece of memorabilia at the flea markets.
I think visiting the cathedrals and museums in London or the
Louvre and the Eiffel Tower in Paris would be exceptional
vacations. But the problem for you would be no Wal-Mart,
no mall--only exotic food, that you don’t like, a
foreign language that you don’t speak and a lot of walking,
which you are allergic to. I imagine a vacation in Europe with
you would be a week of all WHINE and no cheese. The best thing
to do is stay home.
I’ll do my projects. You sit on the porch drinking your tea
and reading your books. I’ll be happy; you’ll be rested,
and we’ll both save money. But I’m not cooking.
Vacation week...you are buying dinner out every night.
HAPPY VACATION.
© Larry Oldham, 2007
He Said She Said - Beauty Shop Conspiracy
He Said
They say that couples should spend quality time
together whenever possible. I agree. I try to
spend as much time as possible with my fiancee'.
But let me tell you, going to the beauty shop
together does notmake for quality time.
In today's world not all guys go to the barber
shop to get their hair cut,colored or coiffed.
Some go to a beauty shop. Somehow, my fiancee'
and I started going to the same beauty shop on
the same day and at the same time. These days,
in between all of her other fixings,our hairstylist
Stephanie cuts my hair.
I have noticed that when a man walks into a beauty
salon, the women stop talking all at once. You
can literally hear a hairpin drop. How and why
they do this is beyond me. They can't all have
been talking about me because all of them do
not know me. Something else I have noticed is
that once they start talking again, they do it
in unison, like some kind of women's army.
Since I have been going to the beauty parlor,
I have also learned that there are secrets
going on. How do I know this? Because I ask
questions but I don't get back answers.
For example...
One day on the shelf in front of me I noticed
a bottle of something called Sex You Up
so I asked Stephanie,"What is that? Do you
drink it, splash it on your body, or bathe in it?
"No",she replied.
"Well, what is it for." I asked. No answer.
When she finally told me that it is something to
puff up your hair, I bought a bottle. I was
thinking it would make me look younger or at
the least, sexier. Instead, it made me look like
one of those gospel singers or preachers you see
on TV with bouffant hair, so I threw it away.
I don't need to look any puffier than I already
look or look younger and have all those blue
haired women calling 24/7. Maybe I should go back
to the barbershop where men are men and we just
look sexy naturally...without additives.
She Said
To all of the women in the world, I apologize.
I am afraid my fiance' has found out the truth
about us. We have a hideout; it's the beauty salon.
Yes, my super-duper-snooper detective fiance' has
discovered the top secret of women everywhere. Hair
Salons all over the world are chapters of an
organization of women who plan to take over the
world and rule all men. I apologize, too, for his
discovering our top secret weapon, Sex You Up.
Thank goodness it doesn't work for men, just women.
What he did not realize is that Sex You Up
works to make us sexy and alluring so we can entice
all of the men and conquer them, not the other way
around. Sort of like their AXE body spray. That must
be some formula that men think will entice us meek
unassuming, poor women. There is an old saying that
"He chases her until she catches him". Think about
that , guys.
He also discovered that we bring stories to our
hairdressers, about what the men did that week, and
the hairdressers tell other women; this is how we
learn to dominate them.
Thank goodness he didn't find out that we all conspire
together to marry them, divorce them, and get all of
their money, which we then send to the Natural Order
of Women.
We go to beauty salons each week under the pretense that
we are just trying to fix ourselves up for them. But
now that secret is out, we should never, ever let them
find out that when we all go to the restroom together,
this is really just a time for short meetings of our
NOW group.
My fiance' can find a conspiracy theory in everything
I do and now it is everything that women do at the
hair salon. I didn't ask him to go to the beauty salon;
he just tagged along.
I didn't ask him to buy Sex You Up,he thought
it would puff up his hair when actually it was just to
puff up his ego.
I am telling you, I only go to the hairdresser to look
good and to make myself more appealing for him. I imagine
that if I took a survey, most women would feel the same
way. I'll be sure and bring it up at our next monthly
meeting.
Puffy hair? Give me a break. Larry, you only look puffy
from eating too many Snickers.
They say that couples should spend quality time
together whenever possible. I agree. I try to
spend as much time as possible with my fiancee'.
But let me tell you, going to the beauty shop
together does notmake for quality time.
In today's world not all guys go to the barber
shop to get their hair cut,colored or coiffed.
Some go to a beauty shop. Somehow, my fiancee'
and I started going to the same beauty shop on
the same day and at the same time. These days,
in between all of her other fixings,our hairstylist
Stephanie cuts my hair.
I have noticed that when a man walks into a beauty
salon, the women stop talking all at once. You
can literally hear a hairpin drop. How and why
they do this is beyond me. They can't all have
been talking about me because all of them do
not know me. Something else I have noticed is
that once they start talking again, they do it
in unison, like some kind of women's army.
Since I have been going to the beauty parlor,
I have also learned that there are secrets
going on. How do I know this? Because I ask
questions but I don't get back answers.
For example...
One day on the shelf in front of me I noticed
a bottle of something called Sex You Up
so I asked Stephanie,"What is that? Do you
drink it, splash it on your body, or bathe in it?
"No",she replied.
"Well, what is it for." I asked. No answer.
When she finally told me that it is something to
puff up your hair, I bought a bottle. I was
thinking it would make me look younger or at
the least, sexier. Instead, it made me look like
one of those gospel singers or preachers you see
on TV with bouffant hair, so I threw it away.
I don't need to look any puffier than I already
look or look younger and have all those blue
haired women calling 24/7. Maybe I should go back
to the barbershop where men are men and we just
look sexy naturally...without additives.
She Said
To all of the women in the world, I apologize.
I am afraid my fiance' has found out the truth
about us. We have a hideout; it's the beauty salon.
Yes, my super-duper-snooper detective fiance' has
discovered the top secret of women everywhere. Hair
Salons all over the world are chapters of an
organization of women who plan to take over the
world and rule all men. I apologize, too, for his
discovering our top secret weapon, Sex You Up.
Thank goodness it doesn't work for men, just women.
What he did not realize is that Sex You Up
works to make us sexy and alluring so we can entice
all of the men and conquer them, not the other way
around. Sort of like their AXE body spray. That must
be some formula that men think will entice us meek
unassuming, poor women. There is an old saying that
"He chases her until she catches him". Think about
that , guys.
He also discovered that we bring stories to our
hairdressers, about what the men did that week, and
the hairdressers tell other women; this is how we
learn to dominate them.
Thank goodness he didn't find out that we all conspire
together to marry them, divorce them, and get all of
their money, which we then send to the Natural Order
of Women.
We go to beauty salons each week under the pretense that
we are just trying to fix ourselves up for them. But
now that secret is out, we should never, ever let them
find out that when we all go to the restroom together,
this is really just a time for short meetings of our
NOW group.
My fiance' can find a conspiracy theory in everything
I do and now it is everything that women do at the
hair salon. I didn't ask him to go to the beauty salon;
he just tagged along.
I didn't ask him to buy Sex You Up,he thought
it would puff up his hair when actually it was just to
puff up his ego.
I am telling you, I only go to the hairdresser to look
good and to make myself more appealing for him. I imagine
that if I took a survey, most women would feel the same
way. I'll be sure and bring it up at our next monthly
meeting.
Puffy hair? Give me a break. Larry, you only look puffy
from eating too many Snickers.
Friday, March 21, 2008
He Said She Said - Dieting
He Said
There is one word we don't use much
around our house, because not only
is it off limits, it is also taboo.
Now I know what you are thinking...
money, sex, ex-wives...nope. Nothing
that trite. We are talking about the
big word.
DIET.
I personally don't see anything wrong
with the word. I occasionally use it
myself,usually in a sentence like: "I
don't do diets", or "I don't believe
in diets".
Don't get me wrong. I believe in good
health, quality of life and so on and
so on. Heck, I even watch those cute
girls doing Pilates on TV and you know
I don't do much TV. But when it comes
to diets, there are just too many of
them out there: Atkins, Weight Watchers,
L.A. something or other, Weight Off
Forever (or when you run out of money),
Nutri-Systems...the list goes on
forever. I mean if one of them really
works, why don't all of you get on
that one?
Let's say all of you gets on the one
that works and lose a few pounds. That
means new clothes, a new house, new car,
and probably a new spouse.
Why not do what I did when my doctor told
me I was getting fat? I just cut back on
my sweets, sodas, hot dogs, potatoe chips,
milkshakes,bisquits, butter and jelly. In
a few weeks I had lost a few pounds, without
eating foreign foods or taking exercise
classes and best of all, not having to pay
someone to tell me that I had gained or
lost a few pounds during that week.
Yep, my plan works so well for me that maybe
I will become one of those diet guru people.
I will gather up a few of those BEFORE pictures
back when I was fat and take some pictures of
me AFTER losing a few pounds. Next I will
write a diet book on how I did it and come up
with a fad diet name...something like
MAC-THIN or SLIM-MART or MAXI-THIN...then I
will share my big diet plan with the rest of
the world.
But first I think I will have some ice cream
and take a nap.
She Said
The only four letter word not spoken around our
house isn't diet...it is STOP.
STOP bringing those 42 bags of Easter candy,
21 bags of Valentine candy, and 34 bags of
Christmas candy to my house that you bought
on sale for 1/2 off at some drug store after
each and every holiday. Keep it stashed at
your house instead of mine and them we will
see how well the world's most famous couch
potato keeps the pounds off.
You. a diet guru?
You could be the poster boy for all the diet
plans in the world...but only the before
pictures. You are like most men. You eat
everything you want and then throw it up
to us ladies that dieting is a farce, all
because you can quit eating sugar, sodas,
bread, etc. for a few days and lose weight.
Men and women have a different metabolism.
We are already not eating all of that
garbage that you enjoy so much, so we don't
have much to give up without starving ourselves
to death.
When we do find a dieting program that works,
you're too busy making fun of fad diets to
lend support and encouragement to our diet
program. The diet word is not really taboo
around the house. I just don't like to
talk about it because I know that I am going
to hear ridicule or sarcasm about my diet.
Maybe you should try to appreciate the fact
that I am trying to look slimmer and thinner
to please you.
Instead of looking at the girls doing Pilates
on TV in their size 3 bathing suits, maybe I
would like for you to compliment me on my
appearance. At the very least, I would like
to think that when you're talking eye candy,
I am somewhere in that equation.
Otherwise I can only think that I am losing
weight just in case Dr. McDreamy should happen
to come to town again.
There is one word we don't use much
around our house, because not only
is it off limits, it is also taboo.
Now I know what you are thinking...
money, sex, ex-wives...nope. Nothing
that trite. We are talking about the
big word.
DIET.
I personally don't see anything wrong
with the word. I occasionally use it
myself,usually in a sentence like: "I
don't do diets", or "I don't believe
in diets".
Don't get me wrong. I believe in good
health, quality of life and so on and
so on. Heck, I even watch those cute
girls doing Pilates on TV and you know
I don't do much TV. But when it comes
to diets, there are just too many of
them out there: Atkins, Weight Watchers,
L.A. something or other, Weight Off
Forever (or when you run out of money),
Nutri-Systems...the list goes on
forever. I mean if one of them really
works, why don't all of you get on
that one?
Let's say all of you gets on the one
that works and lose a few pounds. That
means new clothes, a new house, new car,
and probably a new spouse.
Why not do what I did when my doctor told
me I was getting fat? I just cut back on
my sweets, sodas, hot dogs, potatoe chips,
milkshakes,bisquits, butter and jelly. In
a few weeks I had lost a few pounds, without
eating foreign foods or taking exercise
classes and best of all, not having to pay
someone to tell me that I had gained or
lost a few pounds during that week.
Yep, my plan works so well for me that maybe
I will become one of those diet guru people.
I will gather up a few of those BEFORE pictures
back when I was fat and take some pictures of
me AFTER losing a few pounds. Next I will
write a diet book on how I did it and come up
with a fad diet name...something like
MAC-THIN or SLIM-MART or MAXI-THIN...then I
will share my big diet plan with the rest of
the world.
But first I think I will have some ice cream
and take a nap.
She Said
The only four letter word not spoken around our
house isn't diet...it is STOP.
STOP bringing those 42 bags of Easter candy,
21 bags of Valentine candy, and 34 bags of
Christmas candy to my house that you bought
on sale for 1/2 off at some drug store after
each and every holiday. Keep it stashed at
your house instead of mine and them we will
see how well the world's most famous couch
potato keeps the pounds off.
You. a diet guru?
You could be the poster boy for all the diet
plans in the world...but only the before
pictures. You are like most men. You eat
everything you want and then throw it up
to us ladies that dieting is a farce, all
because you can quit eating sugar, sodas,
bread, etc. for a few days and lose weight.
Men and women have a different metabolism.
We are already not eating all of that
garbage that you enjoy so much, so we don't
have much to give up without starving ourselves
to death.
When we do find a dieting program that works,
you're too busy making fun of fad diets to
lend support and encouragement to our diet
program. The diet word is not really taboo
around the house. I just don't like to
talk about it because I know that I am going
to hear ridicule or sarcasm about my diet.
Maybe you should try to appreciate the fact
that I am trying to look slimmer and thinner
to please you.
Instead of looking at the girls doing Pilates
on TV in their size 3 bathing suits, maybe I
would like for you to compliment me on my
appearance. At the very least, I would like
to think that when you're talking eye candy,
I am somewhere in that equation.
Otherwise I can only think that I am losing
weight just in case Dr. McDreamy should happen
to come to town again.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
He Said She Said - Love in February
He Said
Here is what I know about love.
It comes once a year on February 14th.
That is the one day that I know I am
loved. People tell me. Cards tell me.
Balloons tell me. On a good Valentine's
Day, candy even tells me.
Let's look at the other 364 days of the
year. Where are my presents? Where are
my cards? Where are my flowers? I want
to be loved all the year round. This
part-time love isn't working for me
anymore. I want everyday to be Valentine's
Day. Instead, every day is like Halloween,
spooky and scary.
According to Hallmark, every month there
is a holiday of some sort, but if they
had it their way, every day would be a
holiday. I am offering them that chance.
Make every day a day of Love. It would
certainly satisfy my love needs. I don't
require presents, cards, flowers, or candy
every day, even though I could get used
to it. However, a love nudge, holding hands,
a little kissy mouth, anything to let me
know I am appreciated daily would be great!
This might take away from February 14th a
little bit, but think about how we would
feel with the whole world being in love
each and every day. I am starting to feel
a little like John Lennon and the Beatles.
I could have asked for every day to be like
Christmas, but I know that is way out of
bounds. It would take too many decorations
and too much money to make that work,even
for Hallmark. I will just keep asking for
the love day with the hope that someone(hint
hint)might just hear me and respond. Just
tell me you love me and show it by your
daily touch.
Happy Valentine's every day of the year.
She Said
But I like Valentine's Day and the fact that
it only comes once a year makes it really
special. Too much of a good thing diminishes
it's worth. For me, Valentine's Day has always
been a time to let my special someone and my
children know how much I love them.
On Valentine's Day, when the children were
still at home, I always had little gifts and
candy waiting for them in their chairs at
breakfast before they left for school. It was
a nice way to start their day. Of course my
significant other always received more presents
and or attention because like he said, it's a
day to show unconditional love.
You do bring up some good points, however.
Showering that special person with gifts, flowers,
candy every day wouldn't mean as much as little
acts of kindness such as helping out around the
house without being asked, planning a night out
as a surprise, or doing favors for in-laws. Those
are genuine acts of love and respect for our
relationship.
Remember the night we "kidnapped" our friends and
took them to a restaurant without telling them
where we were going? They even called their son
and laughingly told him that in case he didn't see
them again, they were with us! It was all in good
fun and they knew how much we cared about them.
We don't have to be "in" love with someone to show
them that we love them.
During the eulogy that you gave at the burial of
your best friend, it was extremely evident how
much you loved and cherished him. It didn't have
to be Valentine's Day for you to express those
feelings. At the funeral home visitation, our
former classmates expressed loving thoughts for
each other, which is what this time of year should
be...a reminder that on Valentine's Day,it would
be a good idea to tell all the special people in
your life that you love them.
Here is what I know about love.
It comes once a year on February 14th.
That is the one day that I know I am
loved. People tell me. Cards tell me.
Balloons tell me. On a good Valentine's
Day, candy even tells me.
Let's look at the other 364 days of the
year. Where are my presents? Where are
my cards? Where are my flowers? I want
to be loved all the year round. This
part-time love isn't working for me
anymore. I want everyday to be Valentine's
Day. Instead, every day is like Halloween,
spooky and scary.
According to Hallmark, every month there
is a holiday of some sort, but if they
had it their way, every day would be a
holiday. I am offering them that chance.
Make every day a day of Love. It would
certainly satisfy my love needs. I don't
require presents, cards, flowers, or candy
every day, even though I could get used
to it. However, a love nudge, holding hands,
a little kissy mouth, anything to let me
know I am appreciated daily would be great!
This might take away from February 14th a
little bit, but think about how we would
feel with the whole world being in love
each and every day. I am starting to feel
a little like John Lennon and the Beatles.
I could have asked for every day to be like
Christmas, but I know that is way out of
bounds. It would take too many decorations
and too much money to make that work,even
for Hallmark. I will just keep asking for
the love day with the hope that someone(hint
hint)might just hear me and respond. Just
tell me you love me and show it by your
daily touch.
Happy Valentine's every day of the year.
She Said
But I like Valentine's Day and the fact that
it only comes once a year makes it really
special. Too much of a good thing diminishes
it's worth. For me, Valentine's Day has always
been a time to let my special someone and my
children know how much I love them.
On Valentine's Day, when the children were
still at home, I always had little gifts and
candy waiting for them in their chairs at
breakfast before they left for school. It was
a nice way to start their day. Of course my
significant other always received more presents
and or attention because like he said, it's a
day to show unconditional love.
You do bring up some good points, however.
Showering that special person with gifts, flowers,
candy every day wouldn't mean as much as little
acts of kindness such as helping out around the
house without being asked, planning a night out
as a surprise, or doing favors for in-laws. Those
are genuine acts of love and respect for our
relationship.
Remember the night we "kidnapped" our friends and
took them to a restaurant without telling them
where we were going? They even called their son
and laughingly told him that in case he didn't see
them again, they were with us! It was all in good
fun and they knew how much we cared about them.
We don't have to be "in" love with someone to show
them that we love them.
During the eulogy that you gave at the burial of
your best friend, it was extremely evident how
much you loved and cherished him. It didn't have
to be Valentine's Day for you to express those
feelings. At the funeral home visitation, our
former classmates expressed loving thoughts for
each other, which is what this time of year should
be...a reminder that on Valentine's Day,it would
be a good idea to tell all the special people in
your life that you love them.
Monday, March 17, 2008
He Said She Said -Blended Families
He Said
Dating is hard.Marriage is hard. Divorce is hard.
None of them is as hard as trying to blend families.
If you have ever been married, divorced, and married
again, you know of what I speak. Don't get me wrong,
My fiancee' is the epitome of love, happiness and joy.
BUT(the old proverbial but) blended families are a
constant reminder of the trials and tribulations of
love.
It's not her. It's not her children. They are all great.
It's our differences and what we bring from our respective
families and other marriages that open up Pandora's Box.
Nothing she does is wrong; it's just different from
how I would handle certain situations. Not right. Not
wrong. Just different.
That doesn't mean I don't love her any less or think
that she is a bad mother; I just have another opinion.
She is a good mother and I do love her. Some of the
problems come from the excess baggage of our past
histories brought to the forefront from another life.
"What we bring from the past is an effort to blend it
into the future"...for our families of course.
Is that profound or what? Sometimes I amaze myself.
She Said
Blending families is a little like combining vanilla
and chocolate. It's hard to take two families who were
brought up in separate environments, taught to solve
problems differently,and expect them to blend into the
Brady Bunch overnight. Blend into what?
Foods blend, Drinks blend. People tend to segregate.
With the divorce rate so high, it seems that a child
living with both biological parents under the same
roof is rare. In split homes, there must be a lot of
give and take from everyone. Hopefully, everyone will
have the same goal in mind, which is to coexist peacefully
and support each other emotionally. The Hill and Oldham
children are adults and there has never been a cross
word from any of them, but what about families with
young children?
When young children are involved, there needs to be a
common set of rules by which all abide. I have often
wished there was a set of instructions for how to
peacefully set up housekeeping with stepfamilies,
but there is no "easy button".
Why don't we just drop the term "blended families" and
call it something else like "Chosen Ones" with the
common goal of our children being healthy, wealthy,
and wise instead of being like us, older, poorer, and forgetful?
Dating is hard.Marriage is hard. Divorce is hard.
None of them is as hard as trying to blend families.
If you have ever been married, divorced, and married
again, you know of what I speak. Don't get me wrong,
My fiancee' is the epitome of love, happiness and joy.
BUT(the old proverbial but) blended families are a
constant reminder of the trials and tribulations of
love.
It's not her. It's not her children. They are all great.
It's our differences and what we bring from our respective
families and other marriages that open up Pandora's Box.
Nothing she does is wrong; it's just different from
how I would handle certain situations. Not right. Not
wrong. Just different.
That doesn't mean I don't love her any less or think
that she is a bad mother; I just have another opinion.
She is a good mother and I do love her. Some of the
problems come from the excess baggage of our past
histories brought to the forefront from another life.
"What we bring from the past is an effort to blend it
into the future"...for our families of course.
Is that profound or what? Sometimes I amaze myself.
She Said
Blending families is a little like combining vanilla
and chocolate. It's hard to take two families who were
brought up in separate environments, taught to solve
problems differently,and expect them to blend into the
Brady Bunch overnight. Blend into what?
Foods blend, Drinks blend. People tend to segregate.
With the divorce rate so high, it seems that a child
living with both biological parents under the same
roof is rare. In split homes, there must be a lot of
give and take from everyone. Hopefully, everyone will
have the same goal in mind, which is to coexist peacefully
and support each other emotionally. The Hill and Oldham
children are adults and there has never been a cross
word from any of them, but what about families with
young children?
When young children are involved, there needs to be a
common set of rules by which all abide. I have often
wished there was a set of instructions for how to
peacefully set up housekeeping with stepfamilies,
but there is no "easy button".
Why don't we just drop the term "blended families" and
call it something else like "Chosen Ones" with the
common goal of our children being healthy, wealthy,
and wise instead of being like us, older, poorer, and forgetful?
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