Archive for Travel & Leisure
Of Snails and Puppy Dog Tails*
Posted by: | CommentsIt’s true that you will continue to learn about your spouse long after you’re married – sometimes for years after the wedding vows are spoken. And, how you find out these new things about your partner can be quite an adventure.
For instance, I believe how they handle international travel speaks volumes to how they handle life. I understand building a house (or other home renovation) has erected and dismantled many marriages. (And, God willing, I’ll find out one day.)
Today, I add yet another activity to the list of How to Find Out All Kinds Of Things –and Quickly — About Your Spouse That You Didn’t Know: puppy-sitting.
I have made no secret of my pet lust. Some women’s biological clocks cry out for a baby. Mine? It whispers, puppy. In fact, it’s part of Husband’s and my marriage contract. No more new kids. So, we get to foster animals instead.
However, Husband remains firmon the timing. No animals until our house is built. (And, thanks to the lax CEOs of several financial institutions across the U.S. — who, by the way probably own three houses, each, themselves — that’s not happening anytime soon for us.)
Husband and I have very different ideas about pets, too. Husband believes all animals should:
- Stay outside, for the most part,
- Never get on the furniture,
- Be avoided altogether if they shed,
- Be independent, entertaining themselves for hours on end, and
- Never, ever get in bed with you.
I, on the other hand, believe why have an animal if you aren’t going to live with it? I mean really live with it.
Fortunately for us, we have friend with pets. And, for the last two weeks, we had been puppy sitting a 20 week-old, Cavalier King Charles spaniel named Chloe. (Or Princess Chloe, if you ask her.) Husband had hoped this would cure me of my desire for a dog. Puppies require all manners of care and attention. He thought it would put me over the edge. But, I ask you, could such a face like this put anyone over the edge?
Husband made sure I knew, when she first arrived, that puppy duty was all mine. But, years ago my friend Y told me don’t listen to what men say, rather watch what they do. That’s where you’ll find the truth. If our puppy-sitting is any indicator of that truism, I don’t know what is.
First, within the first 48 hours of our Chloe-sitting stint, she had claimed her favorite spot: Husband’s lap. Then, one day I called from work to ask about Chloe (Husband stayed home that day). He said, she’s fine. She’s sitting right here.
Where?
On my lap.
Though we had a few long nights of taking Princess Chloe out to “widdle” – even sometimes in the middle of a snow storm – she was tons of fun. She would regal us with her tricks (zooming around and around our couch with toys in her mouth, for one) and giving lots of puppy kisses.
Husband soon was playing with Chloe every night, taking her for long walks, and even giving her a bath after one particularly long and wet romp through our 30 inches of recent snowfall. (Wet snow + puppy fur = a rather distinct smell.) By the end of our two weeks he was even getting up in the middle of the night to take her out, though he swore that was going to be my job.
In essence, very quickly, Husband was putty in the paws of said puppy.
(The man with his remote and Chloe. What more could someone ask for?)
On the last morning before we were to hand her over to her rightful minions owners, without provocation, Husband got the sleepy puppy out of her crate and brought her to bed. She is a real cuddler and snoozed away with us for a few more hours, alternatively resting her head on me or Husband. Interestingly, Husband kept trying to get her to stay on his side of the bed. But, she’s an equal opportunity snuggler. I got my share of nose-nudging.
George M. Schulz was right: Happiness is a warm puppy. But, it’s also Husbands who understand, even if it isn’t always spoken outloud.
(*Note: Title of blog post is from the poem, What Are Little Boys Made Of?)
The Year of Fun. So Be It.
Posted by: | CommentsWe’ve all read the myriad of advice columns, blog posts and articles about how New Year’s resolutions really don’t work. They are either too big or too vague or too something. They usually just set you up for more unhappiness. So, I swore of New Year’s resolutions years ago. However, being the self-help junkie that I am, I have not, however, sworn off good ideas that, in my gut, feel like they would bring progress.
A few days ago, Sister announced on her blog that she and her Husband have a New Year tradition in which they “name” their year. One year was the “Year of Travel,” in which they ended up taking 10 trips. (The fact they live in Europe tells me these trips also were not jaunts to the local park, either.) This past year was the “Year of the Book,” as Sister was writing and promoting her book, the Power of Slow. This year will be the “Year of Beauty” – surrounding themselves with beautiful things, beautiful people, beautiful experiences. (At this point in her blog post, I was thinking about how I could pull a Freaky Friday and adopt her life.)
So, not one to let a good idea go unstolen, I asked Husband If we could do the same. Not telling him my thoughts around a potential theme, I simply asked, what would you like to do more of in 2010? What would you like to dedicate the year to being?
I was particularly enthralled to hear his answer. This was because, to add to this idea of declaring how you might set yourself on a desired course, I also discovered a book last summer, The Gift of a Year: How to Achieve the Most Meaningful, Satisfying and Pleasureable Year of Your Life” by Mira Kirschenbaum. In this book, she walks you through the steps to identify what you’ve always wanted (or perhaps just need) and coaches you to take a year for yourself to finally just go do it, get it, have it, and/or be it. I was so enthralled with this book that I gave out 25 copies this year to friends at Christmastime.
So what would 2010 be about, Husband? He answered, I want to have more fun around work.
Wowsa. Over the past summer, The Gift of a Year showed me that what I really wanted – what I really needed – was more fun. I declared months ago that I would take a year to discover what brings joy to my life. I mean honest to goodness bliss. Because, I had no idea. Really.
And, here Husband’s thinking was on a similar path (even if it was attached to work). Clearly, a theme has been resonating in our life. And, thanks to this idea (or set of ideas), 2010 will be more fun. Because, isn’t it already better when you and your spouse have a common goal? Let the games begin.
What will your year be about?
What I Really Want for Christmas: Time
Posted by: | CommentsI finally got Husband’s wish list. On said list is a $3,600 item. (I ask, is it wrong then to ask for a puppy?) Anyway, I yelled from my home office to his home office (around the corner), “hey, that’s one pricey item.” He yelled back, “you asked for a wish list.”
Something tells me Husband actually read my latest blog post on marital gift giving.
If I could, I would buy anything for Husband. But, truth be told, what we both really, really want this year is time. Unfortunately, the one thing I am not able to give Husband is more than 24 hours in a day.
But, thanks to friends of ours, “G” and “L”, another idea has emerged. They have an interesting way of buying time for one another. They take “staycations” throughout the year. “G” and “L” take a week off – no work, no computer, no “to-do” lists. But, they stay at home. There is no travel, no packing, no schlepping the 24 ounce face wash to a hotel room that has no counter space for it anyway. They simply relish their home and do whatever is fun – in-home massages, movies, dinners, walks around the property looking at the bluebirds. Heaven!
Imagine time away from the computer. But, rather spending time at the movies. Time to practice the slow movement over dinner (read: dinner takes 3 hours). Time to think. Time to fool around. The end of the endless “to-do” list. Rather you are enjoying “unstructured downtime,” as my friend “T” said yesterday during one of our catch-up calls. Imagine having the time to really, really, look each other in the eye and really, really listen to the answer to “what’s happening?”
So, men, here’s an idea for you for a holiday gift: plan a “staycation” with your spouse. This means choose a week. (Yes, you have to nail down the details.). Plan several fun things, and leave some time open for your spouse to plan some fun things. For instance, are there things in your area you’ve always wanted to do, to visit, to just check out? (Personally, I’d like to spend an hour in Feast! just sampling their hundreds of cheeses.) Or, don’t plan anything at all. Just go with it.
I boldly recommend to you – older marital couple or not – your spouse will be delighted by the idea of playing through this very different kind of “to-do” list – one filled with fun, rest, and togetherness.
I know I would.
And, if we could make it a “threesome” with the puppy, it’d be perfect.
Marital Gift Giving: ‘Tis the Season for Expectation Management
Posted by: | CommentsAh, ‘tis the season for making merry, singing carols, drinking liqueurs you normally wouldn’t touch, and giving presents.
The gift giving is one of my favorite parts. I love Christmas shopping. Always have. After all, we’re talking justified shopping. I love every aspect of it – the lights, the crammed shops, the hunt for that perfect something. Total glee.
Husband, on the other hand, positively, absolutely despises any kind of shopping. He complains every Christmastime that he doesn’t know what to give. (The fact that Husband has given me some of the most amazing presents I have ever received belies this angst. But, hey, you feel what you feel.)
As December creeps along, I begin to see the wrinkles start in Husband’s forehead as we draw nearer to December 25. Husband asks for my Christmas wish list. I oblige. I tell him the truth – I don’t care, as long as it comes from him. In fact, don’t get me anything. (Oh, but do get me a card. He gives the best cards.) Husband continues to worry. Nothing I say seems to matter.
Apparently – if you are Husband — giving your spouse that perfect little something can drive you mad.
I understand some of this. For one, when you are someone who has gotten married later in life, you have already filled your life with things you love. You’ve had a lot of earning years, not to mention physical years on the planet, to accumulate. So, your wants are fewer. This makes for an interesting conundrum around giving to your new spouse.
When older, three major “categories” of desires emerge. You are left with:
- Things you want. But, since you can afford it yourself, you just go buy it.
- Things you want. But, these wants are pricier and a little more luxurious so you hesitate to gift yourselves with such extravagance. (Like jewelry, for me.)
- The surprises. Things you didn’t even know you’d like but somehow someone saw it, thought you’d be into it, and gifted you with it. You’re thrilled.
So, really, you’re left with two and three. Category three freaks out Husband. He doesn’t like surprises and wants to know what will thrill me. Yes, this is a good thing. But, it also leaves us with category two, which makes me feel a bit greedy, needy and guilty. I mean the world is in economic chaos at the moment. Do I really need a diamond tennis bracelet? No. Want one. But, will live without it.
But, we’ve taken an oath of honesty – that we’ll tell each other the truth – so I hurl verbally provide Husband with the “A” list at first. (Or, now known as the four horses of the gift-giving apocalypse.)
- A puppy
- A house
- A diamond eternity ring
- A trip to Sweden
Not necessarily in that order, either.
I also feel guilty in this honesty. (Did I mention the economic chaos?) I tell him, I’ll live without any one of them, was not expecting him to deliver the entire list, and, really, he shouldn’t feel the need to stick to that list at all. To add to my remorse for providing such an extravagant set of desires, he e-mails me me for a Christmas wish list again. This means, List A didn’t pass muster. (Or, he didn’t think I was serious.)
So, I try to be realistic. I give him a list that spans the economic – and kindness — scale. I try to get creative when Husband asks what I’d like to receive as a gift. I suggest
- A “day of romance” (Can you hear Husband’s eye rolling on that one?)
- A day where we go to the Washington, DC Design Center to look at furniture (No buying required. However, I demand he finally point out what he means by a quality couch since after three years I’m still clueless as to what he is talking about.)
- Detailing my car
- A big coffee table book on Sweden
- Less expensive jewelry (I had to sneak that one in.)
I ask Husband what he would like from me. No answer. I’m left with figuring him out. But, I’m not worried. I can shop ‘til I drop.
I don’t hear back on this later wish list. This is a good sign. But, the silence kills me, and for some reason makes me feel even guiltier for asking for anything – because the worried brow is still there. So, I tell him don’t get me a present, which is where we started. I up the ante. I say, let’s not exchange presents at all.
But, then he also knows, no matter the good intentions, I won’t be able to stick to this. I’ll see something that’s perfect for Husband and be compelled to get it.
So, he continues to worry.
And, I continue to worry about him.
To make myself feel better I go Christmas shopping.
What’s a Girl Gotta Do To Get a Puppy Around Here?
Posted by: | CommentsI want a puppy. Husband knows this. In fact, it was part of The Marriage Deal. No new kids. So, we get New Dog instead. This was five years ago.
About two weeks ago, friends of ours got married. (The bride is now an official LBB.) And, guess what her wedding present was?
A puppy.
Cutest thing you have ever seen. In fact, he so damned cute, he doesn’t look real. Rather, he looks like a stuffed animal. (Husband didn’t respond to my shoving my laptop in his face with my Facebook page open to the posted picture, saying, See? See? Isn’t he cute? He remained silent.)
The fact is because we live in such a small (temporary) space until our #^%&^!! house gets built, we do not have room for anything else that breathes. (See these earlier blog posts, here and here, for a somewhat explanation.)
If I was single, I would have a menagerie of animals. I’m sure of it. (Of course,I would live in a much larger place, too.)
I grew up on a farm where I had (in no particular order)
- a horse (well, about 16, but only one was mine)
- a dog – or two, or three (the number could never be determined because they would just wander in and kinda stay)
- a parakeet,
- an aquarium (the number of fish could never be determined because the Siamese Fighting Fish didn’t get along with anyone),
- a donkey
- a hermit crab (hey, he counted),
- cows (yes, they counted, too),
- two gerbils
- cats (the number could never be determined because, well, have you ever been in a barn? They come. They go. They have kittens. They come. They go.)
Oh, I’m sure there were others but who could tell now?
Now I’m married. (And, no, I won’t give into any animal-husband jokes. I have my standards.) This means, Husband gets a say. So, we have plants. (More than Husband wants based on the look he gives me every Fall when I haul them back inside.)
So, I dream. Of one—just one — little fur ball that can lick your face and love you more than they even love themselves. Some day. Sigh.
Learning About Men. From Traveling.
Posted by: | CommentsYou can learn a lot about men by traveling with them. Traveling with Husband is vastly different from going somewhere with girlfriends (my main travel companions when I was single for all those years). So, I was quite naïve, being the LBB, when it came to what to expect when traveling with a member of the opposite sex. (I had weekend trips with boyfriends, of course. But, it’s just not the same,either.)
For one, you don’t have to fight with your girlfriends about taking a taxi to the cool restaurant. This is because they are wearing heels, too. They also understand that the cute outfit you lovingly packed and schlepped across the Atlantic Ocean clashes horribly with the subway train. Husbands do not get the big deal around this.
(Lest you think I am a wuss, I believe in public transportation during sightseeing and the greater the hiking, climbing and stair-climbing the better. It’s hard enough to get a workout in during travel. You might as well get it in during cathedral hopping.)
In general, Husband and I travel well together (provided we don’t ever enter France. We had a bad experience in Charles de Galle airport. Or, shall I say, a series of bad encounters. Enough said.)
Traveling well together is a very good thing, too. Because there is a long list of romantic (and some too scary to go to without a man) places I am dying to visit. And, with Husband, I also get help with my bags, money exchange, and other romantic things not PG enough to mention here.
But, nothing will test your marriage mettle like international travel (house-building, aside). Our destinations are always fabulous. But, getting from point A to B can be taxing.
My sister says the best travelers are those comfortable with uncertainty. Add the following items and you’ve got an ordeal ahead of you: sleep deprivation, snotty French guards people tired of dealing with the international public all day, negotiations over who sits in the middle seat on the red-eye, dehydration, different languages, culture and people, differing ideas of what constitutes adequate guest space, exchange rates, and I won’t even go into airline food because comedians all over the world have it covered.
So, I put on the list of things all LBBs must do before they get married – travel internationally with Mr. Potential Husband. All kinds of things come up that are telling.
For example:
- Does he do well with the unexpected? (My sister says the best traveler understand that nothing ever goes as planned. Period.)
- How well does he do in long lines? (Patience is a virtue. And, this comes in handy when he has to wait for us for just about anything.)
- Will he make you take the middle seat every time when flying “trans-atlantically”? (To me, this is a sign of chauvinism if he insists the woman must always sit in the middle. A friend of mine lovingly dubbed the middle seat the “sausage seat.” So, what are we, chopped liver?)
- How does he deal with the snotty French guards persons of authority who clearly are so over dealing with the public? (This is yet another sign of how he might deal with, say, moments of weakness we might display when woken up too early.)
- Does he understand the cardinal rule of traveling? Thou can only be cranky if the other person isn’t. One at a time, please. And, yes, this goes for us, too.
- Does he offer to help you with your bag, even if it weighs a ton? (I say if he does this willingly, a knight exists in there somewhere.)
- Does he make a mad dash for Customs, leaving you in the dust? (The answer to this one doesn’t even require explaining.)
- Will he consult a map when you’re deep in the maze of Barcelona’s gothic district? (Enough said there, too.)
- Does he understand the importance of food and watering during long treks around cities and country sides? (Offers to stop at cafes now and again for replenishment are another caring sign.)
- And, last but not least, does he roll his eyes when you want to buy those great Italians boots in the highway robbery very expensive airport shop in Rome? (So long as it is your money, who cares?)
What other things would you add to the list? Do tell!




