Does This Dress Make My Butt Look Fat?

It’s a classic conundrum, almost a cliche; your wife ask’s, “Does this dress make my butt look fat?”  How do you answer?  You can only get trouble if she actually has a big butt.  If her bum has not ballooned, there are plenty of easy escape routes, but no matter how she looks in the dress, the correct response to this inquiry is always, “No.” 

The Problem With Gifts

As I mentioned last week in my Valentine’s Day Post, Kellie decided long ago that she would pick her own gifts when the occasion called for giving her a present. I’m not sure which of the gifts I gave her finally drove her to relieve me of my present purchasing powers. There are several possibilities: there was the gold dolphin bracelet, which I thought she would like; the bathtub massage mat, which she specifically requested, but then disavowed ever asking for it; and the LavNav, short for lavatory navigator, which I thought was the perfect gift every husband should give to his wife.

Read The Label, Obey The Label

Lately I’ve been having trouble sleeping.  I drift off easily enough, but after three or four hours in bed I wake up with an urgent need use the bathroom.  This new late night regularity has become a bit irritating. By morning I’m feeling completely pooped out.  I have had trouble seeping the past, stomach issues too, but this gastrointestinal driven insomnia was something new.  I had just decided to see the doctor when I realized that I had been mistakenly taking stool softeners instead of over counter sleep aids.  The bottles look almost the same.

Valentine's Day – 2012

I hate Valentine’s Day, there’s just too much pressure.  You have to buy a gift, and I’m not very good at buying gifts.  You can’t buy just any gift, it has to be a thoughtful gift.  The only person I can buy a gift for without obsessing is my father, and that’s only because we like reading the same books.  All I have to do is find something I want to read and send it to him.  Now he’s made it even easier, he just want’s his kids to send money, he matches it and donates it all to a food kitchen.

Almost A Cougar

A few days ago, I made a bet with my forty-eight-year-old wife, Kellie, that one of the young men in her French 101 class would hit on her before the end of the semester.  It hasn’t happened yet, at least not in her French class.  Had I expanded the boundaries of the bet, however, I would have already won the wager.  A pair of younger men have tried to flirt with her, but they were not from her French class. 

Where Is It?

Why can’t I ask a simple question and get an equally simple answer?  Kellie said we were going to meet her mother and brother for breakfast, and I simply wanted to know where.  It’s a reasonable inquiry, right?

Whose Money Is It Anyway?

Kyra:  Dad, who pays the electric bill?

Me:  Mom pays it with my money.

Kellie:  It’s our money.

Me:  I remember when we were first married, you felt uncomfortable referring to my money as or our money.

Kellie:  Yeah, I’m over it. 

I'm Hot, She's Cold

Kellie and I met and married in Hawaii.  The first home we shared in military housing had neither a heating system nor an air conditioning unit; both were simply unnecessary on an island where the daily high temperature averaged about 80 degrees Fahrenheit and the daily low temperature averaged about 65 degrees Fahrenheit.  Lacking a thermostat, there were no arguments about the temperature.

I'm dating a college girl?

After Kellie returned from her first day at Mira Costa Community College, she asked me how I liked dating a hot college girl.  There are two problems with that question that I thought were worth bringing to her attention.  First, we are married, not dating.  There is a distinct difference in the quantity of sex between the two – that's what I recall anyway. Second, when I hear the phrase "hot college girl," it conjures up a certain mental image that is slightly incongruous with the reality here.  It would be like calling me a young stud.  As anyone who has been reading this blog is well aware, Kellie is a middle-aged, menopausal woman, and use of the word girl may be a tad misleading.  College woman or college cougar would be a more apt description in this instance; I prefer the latter phrase.  As I said, it was just a thought, which I had the good sense to keep to myself, at least until I published this post.  I have a feeling that the disparity between dating and marriage may get a little larger.  

Old School

Last summer, while vacationing in France, Kellie discovered that even the most mangled attempt at speaking the local language was sufficient to transform the rudest, most arrogant Parisian into a friendly, helpful human being.  Before anyone accuses me of bigotry or stereotyping, I want to point out that the French themselves think that Parisians have an attitude problem.  Kellie’s experience convinced her that she needed to learn French because she has plans to return to France, soon.