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My Profile
She blinded him with whiteness - 2008-07-25
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10:59 p.m. - 2008-01-10
"When your friends think smile, they think of you. There is not a day that goes by that you can't find something good about the world and your fellow human." Ya know, even as recently as a year ago I would not have drawn this result. Oh, I'd been trying to hang onto my faith all along, but mostly I was down on people. Plus admitting to being 'up' about anything was just begging to be slapped down by the Joy Sucker. But 'up' I am and 'up' I shall be and I don't put this entirely on the happy conspiracy of brain chemicals that's got me jazzed right now. See, here's the deal. I went to the salon today. FINALLY. As usual after getting my hair done I had lunch with Mick. Did a bunch of errands before going to fetch my guy from Uber-Sports High School, but the arc of my day bent toward having a picnic in the park with my honey. Dig that, a picnic in the park in January. Anyhoodle, we had our picnic and before we left the park I told Mick I was wondering what the heck to do about dinner because I'd forgotten to take anything out of the freezer in my rush to get out the door to the salon. Mick thought on it for a minute and said, "Pizza. A large- half pepperoni/half mushrooms and onions. I'll pick it up on my way home from work. I don't have their number in my phone so please call the pizza place around 4:00." Now some would find this dictatorial or something. Not me. I was delighted. Utterly delighted. Here's why. I have decided what's for dinner 13,468 times. No lie. Not only have I decided what's for dinner I did it with conditions. It wasn't like I got to think about what I wanted for dinner and make it happen. I had to figure out what HE would like for dinner. I had to sift all familial preferences, menus options based on food to hand, and keep a running tab of previous dinners so as not to repeat myself too often. Why? So I wouldn't get bitched at. Turning the decision over to Mr Picky Pants didn't work. He'd just shrug and say, "I dunno." BUT if I got it wrong he fully reserved the right to complain, whine, and take 3-4 cheap shots at me for unrelated things like the state of my checkbook register or the breadth of my ass. For daring to serve less than the ideal dinner, you see. For muffing it and not knowing EXACTLY what would please him best despite giving me NO input or help whatsoever. Not Mick. He had an opinion. He was willing to step into the breach and make a choice. A choice not only based on what HE would like, but he also factored in such higher level things like me saying there was no meat thawed and that having provided an excellent lunch, that maybe I shouldn't have to cook dinner too. Are you following me here? I threw it out there and my man stepped up. Dinner wasn't a nerve-wracking exercise in trying to buy myself the least amount of grief. I have a partner now. Someone willing to participate in not only the eating of the dinner, but the planning and execution of said dinner's preparations (or purchase). I do not have to do EVERYTHING anymore!!!!!!! Not only don't I have to do everything, my words are heeded. My well-being is included in his thinking. My nightly efforts are recognized and my man cares enough to take on part of the burden. Because he loves me. Because he's a true partner and gladly shares the load. Mick isn't a spoiled brat who only thinks of himself and gets a boner from being an asshole to his wife. Perhaps you are thinking, "Jesus, LA, can you set your standards any lower? It's just a pizza." Or maybe the idea I am reading waaaaay too much into this is floating around in your head. Hey, that's your right, but for me this is some seriously cool shit. It's not just a pizza. It's recognition. It's validation. It's wonderment and a remarkably straightforward example of how different my life is now. Knowing how bad it used to be I will not take this kind of thing lightly. A pizza can be a whole lot more than just dinner.
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