It is seldom that the General makes a written response to one of my blogs. For the most part, I often have no idea whether she’s read what I’ve posted or not. It is seldom a topic of discussion. Like I’ve said many times, “She’s not necessarily a fan”. Some would say that it is a matter of good taste! I married way above my pay group. Far be it from me to suggest to the General that she has her priorities in the wrong place. If she prefers a different literary approach, she’s got the prerogative to choose different material to read. I’m okay with that. I don’t understand it, but I guess that comes from tooting my own horn rather than being more objective.
Before you gather the wrong impression, I can assure you that the General doesn’t boycott my blogs because she is regularly offended by what I’ve written. If she were regularly offended, I would know it. Trust me on this one! It would be abundantly clear. Though she always presents herself as calm and collected, she has the ability to articulate her position or impression in such a way that there is no mistaking the point she is making. I’d call that effective communication. She is good!!!
Apparently my “Keep Calm And Ring Carson To Bring Tea” posting from Monday didn’t set particularly well with her. Actually, I have the propensity to laugh at my own attempts at humor, so I can truthfully say I had no idea that she’d find anything I’d written offensive. Yet, she invested the time to make a written response. A colleague at work read both my posting and her response and he said: “You’re toast!”
So how do I dance around this? It was not my intent to be offensive when I suggested that the General would like nothing more than for me to wait on her hand and foot. In case you’re wondering, the she carries her own weight in any conversation. I was shocked by her response to my blog:
“You clearly take so many things for granted. When have you ever opened your socks and underwear drawers and found no clean clothes? When have you come home to find the bed unmade and the house in total disarray? When have you opened the fridge or pantry and found them empty? When have you had to think about paying a bill or balancing the checkbook? How often do you feed the dog? Do you remember ever going to bed hungry? Do I need to continue this line of thought? Most of what you need is handled by someone other than yourself (as I see it)!”
I silently reread what she had written twice. I kept thinking: “Did my wife write this or did my mother?” On the other hand, maybe a better question is: “Has my wife become my mother?” Either way, this was a magnificent demonstration of guilt through the use of manipulation! My mother was the queen of guilt by manipulation. But, trust me, not even my mother was this good. The General had outdone herself.
Frankly, at some level, I was a little worried. What would I be in for when I got home? Seriously, from what she had written, I thought she was angry. Leave it to me, the quintessential jokester. Sometimes I just keep digging when I’d be better off looking for higher ground. I looked at my friend and said: “I’ve got it. Tomorrow’s blog will be entitled “My Smoking Hot Wife”. He laughed.
When I got home from work, the General was busy preparing our Blue Apron meal for the evening. I sheepishly asked: “So what are we having for dinner tonight?” She answered, “Mediterranean food”. There was not even a hint of anger in her voice. She didn’t appear to be upset with me at all. I was surprised.
I went into the house expecting to find ruffled feathers and discovered nothing of the sort. On the other hand, the General may have simply been following the Bible principal of not throwing her pearls before swine. (Oh, it really hurts for me to suggest that. I’m not even Jewish, but I don’t want to be thought of as a pig). The General wasn’t angry. You could have fooled me from the content of her posting. Maybe simply the forum of expressing another point of view was all she needed. I might add that she did a bang-up good job of letting the other side of the story be shared.
When I read what she had written, I immediately felt like a jerk. Of course, she was 100% right. Despite my assertion that I don’t need a “wait person” to negotiate life, she has consistently provided that approach without calling attention to how she invests her time or the many ways she provides support. Truth be told, my living environment and daily experience at home is up-scale to any 4-Star hotel where I’ve ever stayed and I seemingly have taken it all for granted.
The General planned Mediterranean food for dinner, but I thought eating crow was probably more appropriate. In case you’re not familiar with the term, “Eating crow is an American colloquial idiom, meaning humiliation by admitting wrongness or having been proven wrong after taking a strong position. Crow is presumably foul tasting in the same way that being proven wrong might be emotionally hard to swallow.
One of the adventurous highlights of our life was an eighteen-day Mediterranean cruise we had the privilege of taking eight years ago. Consequently, I suggested to the General that the memory of that experience ought to put us in the mood for a Mediterranean cuisine.
She smiled, looking at the Mediterranean blue plate she’d set out for dinner and said: “Do you mean, ‘like the color of my plate?’” It was a nice evening.
All My Best!