Wednesday, June 30, 2010

The Written Word

When I have something serious to discuss with my husband I send him an email.

I know that sounds like a cop out but I am not that good at verbalising things I personally have an deep issue with. Besides, I find it easier to communicate via written word. It makes more sense to me and I am able to be more objective. It helps distance me from the situation or turns it into a third person thing. Whatever.

Also, my husband likes to take time to process what he wants to say, only he takes time while I am standing in front of him which is hard for me as you can bet I have been processing anything I want to say in life for the past 46 years! Carefully managed and thought out words are ready to burst from me whereas when K is confronted with that he may inadvertently say something he may not mean, or it comes out wrong or something along those lines. So we have this weird protocol which works.

For example, I am so anal about money that when he and I need to make a significant dip into savings he no longer speaks to me in person, he sends me an email to discuss it. I can connect my "thing" about money way, way back to childhood and the financial ups and downs that my parents experienced.

Being the bookkeeper at work and being tight with money makes my boss happy. Being uptight about money at home can make me a bit of a bore. However, after doing bookwork for extravagant and self indulgent clients and seeing where they end up completely justifies my attitude towards money.

That is not to say I do not spend money. I just like to have a stash to spend when we want to. And I like to think about it.

Anyway, about two months ago K sent me an email expressing his desire to purchase a second classic car to tinker with.

The email had sentences like:

I did not want this to happen but I have fallen in love.

It is a midlife thing, all about men and sheds and the need to have projects.


I will understand completely if you say no.

Anyway, needless to say I said sure thing and we now have another car which my husband adores. I could tell it was pretty important to him.

So, one day we will just email only and not talk. I have suggested we live in separate houses but he said that was a bit too remote.

I agree.

I mean, if we lived in separate houses I would have to make my own cups of tea.

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Monday, June 28, 2010

Sentimental Perspective

We have a pianola that was totally restored almost fourteen years ago.

Today we sold it. It sat looking very nice in the music room but was never being played. My husband has a baby grand piano and my son is not into the pianola. It took up so much space as it shared the room with the big piano.

So we advertised it on Ebay. It did not sell but after auction somebody emailed us about it, came and had a look and bought it.

I felt a bit sad about it really. The day the pianola was delivered to us after being restored was the day I found out that I was pregnant with my son. This was a big thing after having IVF and I always attach the pianola to that memory.

But, I have to be realistic. The memory is going to be with me irrespective of whether or not the pianola is in my home.

So, later on I had the following conversation with my son.

"Why are you selling it?" asks son.

"It takes up room and we never use it anymore," explains me.

"Oh, okay," replies son.

"You are not upset are you? Did you want to keep it?" asks me.

"No," answers son.

Mother, feeling a bit sniffy and sentimental then says.....

"You know, I feel a bit sad because the day I found out I was pregnant with you was the day we got the pianola."

"Yeah, well, you could have been eating a banana when you found out. What then? Keep all bananas from then on?" comes the reply from son.

"Well, no, of course not," I half laughed.

"Or stepped on an ant. Or eaten bread. Or picked your nose," he went on about a few more things I could have been doing at the time of finding out I was pregnant.

"Yeah, okay I am getting the reality check here thanks," I said, suddenly feeling like a sap.

Gee, nothing like a teenage boy to put sentimentality into perspective.

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