Welcome to my running commentary on life.

Welcome to my running commentary on life.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Things I Do That Really Irritate My Husband

Aren’t you men out there glad you don’t have to live with me?  I’ll bet my husband envies you at the moment. 

I’m a fun-loving person with a passion for life.  If I get the chance to try something new, I jump in with both feet—such as the time I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane or the week I ran off to Mexico without him.

My man is a little more staid.  There’s no way he would have plummeted toward the earth from 12,000 feet.  Let’s be honest.  There’s no way he would have got on the airplane in the first place.  Unless it’s a commercial jet with all the comforts of home, he has no interest.

There’s nothing wrong with his way, mind you.  It’s just not the way I’m built.  The other day I realized that we’re getting in a rut and it just won’t do.  To him, the status quo is the best way to go.  “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

The poor man cringes every time I get that look on my face.  I don’t really blame him.  How would you like it if someone is constantly over-turning your life and pulling you outside your comfort zone?

One of his favorite comfort zones is food.  Most people enjoy eating.  We’re no exception, but where I’m more adventurous in my tastes, he prefers the old standards of grease and red meat.  For me, it was time for yet another change. 

As soon as I got home from work on Wednesday night, I started rattling those pots and pans.  The fragrance of teriyaki filled the air.  He walked to the kitchen expecting steak with fried potatoes and corn.  What he got was a lovely piece of glazed salmon over a bed of greens. 

Oh!  The horror.  Food intended for good health—could there be anything worse?  He ate the salmon and a mouthful of salad, then complained he was still hungry.  “Eat more salad,” I told him.  If I had just had my camera handy, I could’ve taken a great snap for the family photo album—such a comical expression. 

The next night it was taco salad, made with ground turkey and filled with more vegetables than his mind could get around.  It was too much.  When he said he had to go to town to run an errand, I warned him not to stop at McDonalds.  He stopped in his tracks on the way to the door.  He’d been caught and he knew it.

By Friday, he was ready to revolt.  He wanted meat ‘n taters and I was being such a pain.  I smiled and put a huge chef salad in front of him.  “Are you trying to kill me?” he demanded.

Last night I relented.  Promising spaghetti, I set to work in the kitchen.  Ah, more disappointment.  The pasta wasn’t smothered in a heavy red sauce swimming in ground meat and sausages.  Instead, it was tossed with sautéed veggies and tomatoes and served with a side of baked chicken breasts.  It was another Kodak moment.

This morning I fixed a big breakfast.  He was thrilled when I got the homemade garlic sausage from the freezer.  His excitement died away when it was served with an omelet of peppers, onions and egg whites.  Oh, and there were no fried potatoes—such a disappointment. 

I heard him on the phone complaining to a friend.  “For weeks,” he said, “she wouldn’t cook a thing.  Now she’s on some health kick and all I get is rabbit food.  I’m going to starve to death.”

If you took one look at him, you’d know starvation isn’t an issue.  He’s a big guy with plenty to spare, so a new diet will serve him well.  I think next week I’ll institute family exercise time.  One way or another, I’m going to get his energy levels back up.  If not, he’ll get left behind in the dirt.

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