Image hosted by
This is a picture from the hiking trail we followed last weekend. Walking in town is not the same. Since we skipped the gym yesterday, #2 daughter and I took a 45-minute walk around our neighborhood after dinner. Instead of lush nature, we got to enjoy human vagaries.
People’s gardens, of course. Some are beautiful, and give me ideas for my own modest gardens. Some are peculiar — there is one house where they have a handsome stand of tiger lilies right next to a row of plastic flowers “planted” in upside-down terra cotta pots. I’m not sure where they are going with that.
There is a sign on one lawn with the words “Little House” and an explanation of the tradition of making little houses — and sure enough, if you then search the landscape, you will find a little sort of Wendy house to admire.
We met some people, some dogs, and some rabbits and squirrels as well. A pleasant end to the day.
There was one thing. We were walking very fast. #2 daughter is a fast walker anyway. She is a good deal taller than I am and naturally I am a good deal older than she is. And we were talking about something she is feeling cross about. So as she got more cross, she walked faster. When it came to cool-down time, I insisted on ambling a bit, but we were really making tracks there for a while.
Oddly enough, all three women of our household (my two daughters and I — I include #1 daughter even though she has her own household now) are feeling cross with our menfolks at the same time. What are the odds?
I’ll tell you about #1 daughter’s reason, because a) she is probably over it by now, and b)it is a general rather than a specific issue, and c) they do not read this blog.
Her husband has just returned from a submarine trip. That may be the wrong word to use — it sounds too lighthearted for the military, and I bet there is an official word that should be used instead, like “deployment” or “exercise” Anyway, he has been on a submarine. Naturally, he wants to continue to spend time with the lads from the submarine. Equally naturally, he also wants to spend time with his wife, from whom he has been separated for months. So he figures they can all get together.
Ladies, how do you like to spend time? Hanging out in a bar with a bunch of drunken sailors?
I didn’t think so.
Let’s face it. Married couples don’t have to do everything together. Guys should be able to go do guy things with their guy friends and do couple things with their wives, not insist on mixing the two.
My husband was invited to join us on our walk, but he chose to watch boxing instead. I do not want to watch boxing, and he doesn’t want to lope around the neighborhood discussing #2 daughter’s emotional complications and admiring people’s gardens. Fair enough. It is better not to insist on togetherness in such cases — there are, or should be, plenty of opportunities for togetherness that both parties could actually enjoy.
Oh — I’m reading Murder at the Museum by Simon Brett. A well-written, low key mystery novel.