Let's talk it out

Something my husband still struggles to understand about me is my need to "talk it out." In his mind I'm bitching about the same thing over and over again, being indecisive. I know part of him just wants to grab me on both shoulders and shake me until I shut-up. What he doesn't see is the whacked out thought process going on and how many times I've already had this discussion in my head. By the time I've made my way to his ears there's been at least three renditions of the thought process, and now I'm just vocalizing it to see if it sounds as sane outside of my head as it did inside. You'd think that talking to another human being would be better than talking to myself, but clearly he thinks not.

My mother has had years of practice with this and knows the difference between a pause for comment, and a pause to catch my breath and continue. After almost thirty years of being my sounding board it's her turn to take a break, and part of his husbandly duties to humor me. I have a gut that has served me well, not only at meal time, but in life in general. I KNOW what it's telling me. I don't always listen, but I do always KNOW. If I come up with an idea, thought, or decision and don't KNOW, then I keep talking. As annoying as it may be, this process has never failed me, and I'm not about to abandon it now.

Tonight I KNEW and I'm in a better place because of it. WE'RE in a better place because of it.

Small acts of kindness pay heftily in husband points

Most of the time I would bet money that as I'm rambling out ideas I'd like to do around the house, or reasons why I can't do certain things, my dear husband has his earmuffs on blocking out the oncoming honey-do list. It's the other times that I'm happy not to be a gambler because that's when he invites his alter ego Super Clint over to remind me how awesome he is and that he can in fact multi-task.

Just this weekend I was mentioning how the office was still really a mess and that I had cleaned as much as I could, but that the rest of the "stuff" was his to decide on. I may have also mentioned wanting to get my desk setup with my photo HD attached to the laptop and the photo printer installed. And that running the wireless modem through the bedroom closet and out through the office closet would be a good idea and allow us to hardwire into the modem when we're getting a crappy connection. All of which I was sure to be soaring to the top of that honey-do list...right behind mowing the lawn and going to dinner with the in-laws.

Much to my surprise the dear man was listening and taking notes. He setup my desk with the laptop, printer, and hard drive. Cleaned out three of his boxes and took them down to he garage for trash day. And did in fact wire the modem through the closet so that we could get faster connections when needed. I in no way expected him to get all of it done, but it was nice to see how much time and effort he put in to make me happy. On the other hand, it could also be his way of eliminating excuses as to why I'm not working on my photos.

Well played sir.

Better late than never

And in late breaking news, it appears that I actually do remember my password to blogger and will not turn to stone if I get on the computer at home. Seriously though, I have no idea what my problem has been. I write page long posts on my way to work, but just don't seem to find the motivation to get on the computer once I get home.

I'd say it's because there's nothing to write about, but if there's one thing my family is good for, it's providing content. I mean, I could have posted about the beeping noise I walked in to when I got home last night. You know, THAT beeping noise. The one that sinks your stomach and elicits an, "Oh shit!" as you walk up the stairs. The one that has you praying that you haven't lost the entire contents of the freezer and are willing to sacrifice the fridge if someone has to take one for the team. Indeed, luck was on my side. Not only was the fridge safe, but the house didn't burn down from the coffee pot that was left on all day. This was about the time I turned around scanning the room for the next potential money suck asking "Seriously" in disbelief, a la Grey's Anatomy.

It's amazing how marriage changes you. Things that would drive me insane if someone else did them, I can somehow laugh off when Clint is the mastermind. Logic I never thought possible has become one of my first instincts. Not out of agreement mind you, more out of survival and preparation. After not even two years of marriage the whole scene played out in my kitchen without even a word of explanation from my dear husband. The scarier thing is that I think I have a better idea of what went on that morning than he does.