How Sweet It Is

As a MOM (mother of multiples), this video was especially funny to me. But it's really just plain funny.

Sign 'O' The Times

I know you can't read what it says here...but I felt it was important to see that this actually ran in a May, 1955 Good Housekeeping issue. I'm bothering to take the time to type it all out for you here because it's so unbelievable:

The Good Wife's Guide
* Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.

* Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people!

* Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

* Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.

* Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dustcloth over the tables.

* Over the cooler months of the year, you should prepare a light fare for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

* Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair, and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.

* Be happy to see him.

* Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

* Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first--remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

* Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and has very real need to be at home and relax.

* Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.

* Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.

Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

* Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

* Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

* A good wife always knows her place.

Some Like it Hot

I hate the cold.

I live in Michigan.

I know. Duh. But I sort of have to right now.

Later though, I hope to live somewhere very moderate--I'm not one of those people who has to see the seasons change (at least, I don't think I am; I suppose I could miss the big switch from summer to Indian summer). I like the West Coast, where I have wonderful family, but I'm not big on all of the natural disasters there. I like the mid-Atlantic, where I grew up and have even more friends and family, but they still do get a bit more winter white stuff than I'd like.

Florida is too Floridian. The Deep South is too--well, I hate to generalize with stereotypes. Let's just say I like a bit of cosmopolitan chic in my world. So that basically leaves the Carolinas.

That might just be the ticket. In the meantime, I'll settle for an early spring. Last year we had a huge snow storm at the end of April. I can live through that exactly once.

Big Time

If you've been reading my posts for awhile, you might remember this one where I explain my long-time preoccupation with Matt Dillon, or this more recent one, where I chime in about Jake Gyllenhaal.

Both up for best supporting actor awards at The Oscars last night, my loyalties were definitely divided. When Clooney won I was actually a little relieved! But the good news is that I got to watch them both all night long as part of the two best movie candidates. And woowee they looked veddy nice.

Congrats, boys. Even if you didn't win, it's nice to see you get your props.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

At times I envision the two of them so clearly it’s as if I were physically standing across the room. I watch as they fall into the couch and entwine their bodies in one fluid, effortless motion. As though they were born attached, or simply custom made to fit each other’s niches.

The TV is on, pointlessly, as they’re constantly distracted by one another—a quiet tickle, a stroke of the hair. The intimacy of these small gestures is powerful, and the reality—the fact that their relationship is merely a fantasy— does nothing to diminish my obsession in watching it play out.

I see them shopping, eating, reading the Sunday paper sprawled out on the floor of a sunny breakfast nook. I see them making love.

Friendship is their foundation. They trust one another from deep within. They laugh. And as I watch their relationship blossom, it’s evident that there is an ever-growing bond. But at the same time, the complexity diminishes. It simplifies as it grows.

Other people watch them as I do. They’re the kind of couple that passersby take note of. I remember when we used to look at each other that way. No matter that I am one of the key players. The objectivity I enjoy by creating their story is liberating and allows me to lose myself in the dream. After all of this time, they are as familiar to me as a worn teddy bear or tattered paperback that comforts as sleep comes, and serve the same purpose.

Some day, I think. Some way. But the day won’t come in this lifetime. This kind of relationship is unattainable to me, and so I watch it mature, and relish what I can, in the privacy of my own mind. It’s safe there. No one can tell me all of the pesky reasons why I can’t live the dream. But the ache to do just that…the ache…never goes away.