Will Lack of a Car Lead to Divorce

Will Lack of a Car Lead to Divorce

My wife and I are now a one car family.  Our lease ended and we gave back the car that I was driving; leaving us with one car.  We felt this was a good idea for economic reasons, it would save us money.

What this means for us, is either scheduling use of the one car or both of us going to the same places all the time.

Initially this seems like a good idea. Barbara, my wife, doesn’t really like to drive and won’t drive at night or long distances.  In the last 2 ½ years we have put only 10,000 miles on the car she was driving, and part of that mileage was by me driving it on weekends.

Now, I will be driving her car 90% of the time.  She will be with me most of that time.

Everyone has warned us against this. 

 I have heard horror stories about sharing one car; we of course scoff at these comments.  We usually get on quite famously.  Both of us are easy going and accommodating.

This has been our first week, so far so good.  

 Of course there has been some increase in the backseat driving (even though she sits in the front) of she, who shall be nameless.  I have taken her kindly given advice by asking her to sit in the back in order to comply with her “back seat driving expertise”.  She has graciously refused.

I have offered to let her drive, again she has graciously refused.  

Fortunately, I have mastered the art of selective deafness, a trait that has served me well over the years.  It has kept us married. She gets to make “requests”, and I get to ignore them.  A good arrangement all around.

We also have different tastes as to what should be on the radio.  She prefers the radio to be off, or if forced to listen, she chooses country music.

I like the radio on at all times, and while I enjoy country music, I like old radio programs like “The Shadow”, “Jack Benny”, “Burns and Allen”, and morning drive shows that have “schtick”.  For those ignorant of the term, “schtick” refers to comedy or humorous banter.

We bicker back and forth about choices on the radio.  The previous deal was I could listen to my stations  when she wasn't with me.  That deal hasn't held up so well now.

We have had some scheduling issues now that we are constantly driving together.  No more errands for her on her day off, no more shopping for food by herself and no more splitting up to go our separate ways on the weekend. 

We are waiting to see how it all turns out. Can we survive with one car without seeking divorce lawyers?

I am hedging my bets and watching the car ads.

Coincidence, Shomincidence, It’s a Plot.

Coincidence, Shomincidence, It’s a Plot.

Do you believe in coincidences? No such thing. I don’t think I am being paranoid and you won’t either, once you hear this story.

My wife Barbara has been clamoring for a new kitchen for a while now.  I have been resisting on the grounds that the old kitchen is quite acceptable and is great shape due to the lack of use (we maybe eat at home once a week).

Nevertheless, she has been pressing her case and gotten support from traitorous members of the family who shall be nameless.  I figured I had about two more years until having to give in because we never agree on color, style or any decorating very quickly.  It once took us 6 months to pick a wall color that we could both agree on.

About a month and a half ago, everything changed.

We went to Orlando to meet my daughter and her family.  While away, our second bathroom toilet leaked. 

When we got back, we discovered the leak, fixed it, but found our laminate floor had been damaged.  We thought the damage was confined to a small area and we could just replace that area with some extra laminate we had saved.  We called in a contractor we use, and he agreed to try.  I went to work; Barbara went to the grocery store.

When she returned home, she was horrified to discover all the laminate was taken up. 

Once the contractor started working on picking up the few pieces we thought were damaged, he discovered the water had spread throughout the laminate flooring.

We still had laminate in the living room/pool hall, so we either had to get the same laminate or put down tile.  We couldn’t get the same laminate anymore so tile it was.  The problem was we had tile in the kitchen and dining room.  This tile would butt up against the new tile.  It would have to match.  No such luck, the old tile would have to be removed, so the new tile would be put down everywhere and match.

We filed an insurance claim and were pleasantly surprised they agreed to give us money towards replacing the laminate. Not the tile, but the laminate.  We were on our own picking up the old tile and putting down new tile where the old tile had been.   

We contemplated picking out new tile.

Barbara saw her chance to get a new kitchen out of this. She pounced... 

“Since the old tile was being taken up, wouldn’t it be a great time to change the kitchen. We could do it all at once and only be inconvenienced once,” she asked. 

I tried to ignore her logic, but it did have reasoning behind it since we would have to remove the cabinet to replace the kitchen tile. 

We seemed to be committed. 

We now had concrete floors where the laminate had been, so there was some urgency.  Like I said, it usually takes us months to decide on colors, etc. We had no such luxury now.

We picked out the tile in 2 days and picked the cabinets the next day by accident.  We were in a tile store, having just picked out tile, and saw cabinets we liked.  We took them.

We notified the contractor to start working.  He came that week; jack hammered out the old tile, and removed the cabinets and sink.  

There was dust everywhere, and no place to eat at home.  No difference there, except for breakfast, which I did usually eat at home.  McDonalds and the bagel places immediately benefited from our lack of eating breakfast at home.

Our next task was to find granite to use on the counter top.  I refused to pay a fortune but wanted something nice.  We spent a couple of weeks looking around and finally found a slab that looked like marble but was granite, at a reasonable price.  We also bought a microwave, which we don’t use, to match the stove we never use.

I thought we were done, dreamer that I am.

“We need a new buffet piece,” Barbara said.

“Why is that?” I inquired.

“When the toilet leaked, the water came through the wall behind the buffet and ruined it” she replied.

I love that buffet, I designed it and had it made for us.  It was unique.

“I can get it repaired for about $100” I rejoined.

“Its old fashioned and we need a new one to match the modern look we are getting in the kitchen” Barbara countered.

“Really….,” I said, “but I love that buffet”.

“Get over it. It’s so 70’s looking. We need a new one,” she insisted.

In for a penny, in for a pound.  A new buffet it is.

We finally are nearing the end of our construction and I can finally eat breakfast at home.

The contractor laughs every time Barbara says she needs to add something to make cooking easier (everyone knows her history of cooking at home), and Barbara has her list of things for him to do.  I don’t foresee an early end to the work.

My original budget has been cast aside like yesterday’s trash.  Barbara goes blithely, on adding new items to her list, all of which add cost.  The money train has left the station far behind.

This whole local stimulus to the economy started with a toilet leaking. 

I would like to point out, that my wife’s biggest ally for the new kitchen had arranged for us to be away when the leak conveniently occurred.  If we had been home, we would have spotted the leak in time.

 I’m not saying foul play was involved, or a conspiracy was hatched; but nevertheless, it is suspicious as to the timing, don’t you all agree?  (This is the part where you all agree I am not being paranoid.)

When I mention this to Barbara, she giggles and looks away.

I am considering billing that unnamed person for the cost.

The Hair Question Revisited

The Hair Question Revisited

My daughter had canceled her coming to see us in December and wouldn’t be back until the summer.  She suggested we meet in Orlando at Universal Theme park so we could see her and her family.

We wanted to see them so we agreed to go.  We set up a date the beginning of February.

That week, we watched the weather and it was turning cooler and cloudy for that weekend.  We knew that our grandkids were anxious to ride the water rides at the park and we were told to bring bathing suits so we could accompany them.  Surprisingly, my wife agreed.

For those familiar with my wife’s hair habits, she never gets it wet outside of her shower.  Getting her hair wet is considered by her a catastrophe of the highest order.  I of course playfully try to get her hair wet whenever we are at a pool or the ocean.  Oddly, she takes umbrage at this for some unfathomable reason, often chiding me in a not so gentle fashion for this innocent act.

The last time she got her hair wet on a ride was around 1992. We went to Disney World and she got on a raft ride and the raft went through a waterfall directly on my wife.  This was sacrilege. I of course got the blame (for once I was blameless) and she has refused to go on any ride involving water ever since.  The exception to this rule is her traveling on large boats or ships.

Nevertheless, we set out for Orlando with our bathing suits packed.

We arrived at our hotel in Orlando, grabbed some towels and our bathing suits and went to meet our daughter and her family who were already in the Universal theme park.  The day had turned cloudy and cool, so the water rides were relegated to the next day.

We all went on various rides and saw various shows for the rest of the day. 

Now the thing to know is that Barbara hates rides. She doesn’t like going on any rides and refuses to go on any rides that involve fast movement like a rollercoaster. My grandson offered to rate the various attractions as to their “danger quotient” and give my wife some advice on which rides she could go on.

We proceeded to the Homer Simpson ride, which is a virtual rollercoaster.  Since you aren’t really on a rollercoaster we all thought it would be acceptable for Barbara.  After the first 10 seconds, she had her eyes closed the whole ride.  I am sure the designers of the ride had Barbara In mind when they created the ride and they will be happy to know she reacted as if it was a real rollercoaster.  By that I mean she was terrified.

We went to a show where members of the audience are chosen for parts in the show.  Usually, I get chosen, not this time. My 8 year old granddaughter, much like my mother, is the opposite of shy.  She pushes her way up front with her mother and grandmother in tow.  She got picked for a part as did my wife.  They said they were looking for a grandmother and since she was standing in front with my granddaughter they picked her.  They labeled her the “Cougar” grandma. We were all amazed she agreed to do it.

The show started and both Barbara and Hayley did their part to the amusement of all of us. They were a hit.

We toured the park, going on various (not rollercoasters) rides and seeing different attractions.  We had dinner and then returned to our hotel. 

On the way back to the hotel, my son called and told me he and his family were considering coming up for the day on Saturday.  It was to be a surprise and I was to tell no-one.  He would let me know in the morning. 

Barbara demanded to know what I was talking about with our son, but I can keep a secret and thus made up an excuse as to why he had called.  I told her he invited us to his house for the Super Bowl.  She was suspicious of this since she is the sports nut in the family and why hadn’t he asked her about it.  But she let it go.

Our grandson wanted to sleep with us, and since my daughter had requested a sofa bed be in the room he was able to do it.

The next morning it was warmer and sunny.  Again we packed our swim suits and towels and proceeded to the Islands of Adventure Park which has the majority of the water rides. 

We started out at the Harry Potter Village and ride.  My grandson, who normally is very protective of Barbara led her to believe the Harry Potter ride was PG.  Just as the ride started he admitted to her that it may be R in her rating system.  Once again she kept her eyes closed.

Our next stop was Jurassic Park.  We got onto the river ride, which seemed tame enough.  Even the plunge down was short and sitting in the last row, we didn’t get wet.

Now we headed for the “real” water rides.

In the meantime, I texted my son and he told me he was almost there.  I told him where we were headed.

We stopped and changed into our bathing suits. The ride we chose is called “Popeye”.  It consists of a round raft going down a fast moving watercourse with water streaming into our path from above at various points on the ride; as well as waves coming over the side.  My wife had taken my hat and was wearing it in a futile attempt to keep her hair as dry as possible.  It was not possible.  We came off the ride soaking wet and a little chilled as the temperature outside was pleasant, not hot and the water felt very cold.

As we exited the ride, my son appeared with a camera taking his mother’s picture with her hair wet.  My wife’s refusal to get her hair wet is legendary in the family. He stated the 3 hour car ride was worth this moment and picture.

Everyone but me was surprised and the two families were very glad to see each other.

My 3 year old granddaughter wanted to go on the ride, so she went with along with her mother and father and my other two grandchildren and my son-in-law. Barbara and I and our daughter stayed with our little grandson (2 years old). 

My 3 year old turned out to be fearless.  She loved all the rides and even went on a small rollercoaster.  All of the grandchildren had a great time being with each other.  I went on another water ride with my daughter’s family and then we decided to go back to Jurassic Park because my son’s kids wanted to see the dinosaurs.   

Before going we changed back into dry clothes.

We decided to take the river ride again, since no disasters had occurred the first time and no one got seriously wet.

We boarded the boat, this time sitting in the first two rows.  My daughter-in-law and all the grandkids sat in the front and the rest of us sat in the second row behind them.

The ride preceded on its way much like before.  We came to the plunge, and as we hit the bottom, a wall of water came over the front of the boat, pretty much bypassing the front row and landing smack on the people in the second row, us.

We were all drenched.  If you look carefully you can see Barbara with hair looking like the bride of Frankenstein and her hat flying backwards into the face of the guy behind her.

The front row with my grandkids and daughter-in-law were wet but not drenched.  In addition, my daughter-in law traitorously wore a poncho (she says intelligently) to keep from getting wet.               

Because we were in the back row the first time, we didn’t get wet.  This time, sitting in the front rows, was another story. Now we had no dry clothes.

Much to my surprise, Barbara took it all in good humor.  She didn’t complain and in fact seemed quite amused by being wet and having her hair wet and wild.  This devil may care attitude quickly disappeared once we were home, as she has hidden away the above picture from the place of honor on the refrigerator where I hung it up.

I attribute her show of good humor to her being with the grandkids and not wanting to appear like an old fuddy duddy to them. 

It proves: Grandkids rule!

Fun At the Mall

Fun at the Mall

My wife needed a dress for an upcoming wedding.  Not too formal, not too casual.  We went to boutiques and department stores near us and found Drek! (For the uninitiated that means crap).

The next week we decided to go to a Mall in North Miami.  It was known for its boutiques and we thought we could find something there.  Barbara made sure to bring dress shoes with her, which she carried in a plastic Publix bag.

We arrived at the Mall, parked and entered.  Lo and behold the first store we saw was a fancy designer boutique (the name meant nothing to me and I have blocked it from my mind).

We entered the store and were greeted by a very fashionable woman.  She offered to help us in our selection despite my gruff appearance and Barbara’s Publix bag, and we proceeded to pick out a few dresses.  I have to admit the selection was quite good and I happily went around suggesting one style or another.

Barbara was about to go into the dressing room when she asked the cost of one dress in particular (there were no prices on the labels).

“ $1500.00.” the fashion consultant casually said.

She must have seen my look of horror and astonishment so she informed us the dresses started at $1395 and went up to a few thousand.

“Well,” I said, “that’s a little more than we wanted to spend. Any place else in the mall we should be looking at?”

“I understand,” she said. “Why don’t you try the department store next door?”

We thanked her and went into the department store.  We found the dress area and I happened to see the same dress, from the same designer as the $1500 one for a measly $2800.00.  The two stores were right next to each other!  What was the department store thinking?

We left the department store and wandered around the mall.  We soon found another boutique and Barbara tried on a couple of dresses but no sale.

We continued our quest.

Almost all the stores had dresses, but they are made for 17-25 year olds who are a size 0-2. More than ½ the styles were strapless or off the shoulder, both requiring a strapless bra that Barbara has vetoed.  This further narrows our search criteria.

The next store we actually went into had a mix of casual and dressy.  The owner/manager came over and declared,” You’ve come to the right store.  We have clothes for you and not necessarily your daughter or granddaughter.”

This certainly sounded hopeful and she helped us pick out a couple of dresses for Barbara to try on.

While Barbara was trying on dresses, the manager was talking to me in between helping Barbara.  She explained all the clothes came from France so they were a little different and she had stuff for men and women.  She urged me to try on the casual men’s clothing. 

I told her I like to “stick to the task” when shopping and we were here for a dress for Barbara.

We found a dress there that looked great and fit our cost criteria (not $1500!).

We left the store with our purchase and were faced with what to do next. 

Barbara insisted we go to Macy’s to get me some long sleeve shirts.  After some arguing about it, I agreed and we proceeded to Macy’s.

We found the men’s section and were looking over the shirt selection.  A sales lady (not fashion consultant thank God) offered to help.  She showed us various designer named shirts including the Donald Trump Collection.  I innocently inquired if I would have to change my hairstyle or did the shirts come with a “hirsute accessory”?

The saleslady thought this was hilarious (I have to agree) and proceeded to tell her associates about my idea.  We discussed a display for the collection featuring a Donald Look a like wig, which everyone felt was a stroke of genius (once again I have to agree).  Barbara of course just rolled her eyes.   She seems to resent my acquiring fans wherever I go.

Since it was lunchtime, and Barbara is always hungry, we had lunch.  But not before Barbara informing me she needed to lose 5 lbs and it was up to me to keep her in line (fat chance, no pun intended).

We wandered around the Mall looking for potential gifts for other people.  I suggested we go back to the shop where Barbara had gotten her dress and look at things for our son and son-in-law, which we did.

We entered the shop and a young sales associate who had seen us previously, came over.  I said, “The president called and said we hadn’t spent enough in your store yet to stimulate the economy.”

“Huh,” she cleverly replied.  She looked puzzled and then said. “Wait a minute, you were here earlier, right?  Now I get it, about the president.  I’ll have to remember that.”

I smiled, acknowledging her intelligent grasping of my little inference.

She was very nice and tried mightily to help us. 

We told her that the people we were looking for while relatively young were very conservative in their choice of colors and styles.

She showed us some items that we thought were fitting.  There followed a spirited discussion about colors, all of which focused on gray, black, tan and very dark blue.  I tried to hold out for brighter colors. 

By this time the girl knew who we were buying for, their names, likes, dislikes, etc.

I found myself wandering around looking for “brighter” selections or ones with character.  I told the girl to not show Barbara any more black items.

I also tried to enlist the salesgirl in helping me get Barbara into a lingerie shop to get a more figure-flattering bra.  I told her to say to Barbara, “I saw the dress you bought, it would look spectacular with a push up Bra”.  For some reason she was reluctant to do so.

Taking matters into my own capable hands, I mentioned to Barbara that the salesgirl had a suggestion for her.  The girl looked stricken and tried to blame me.  Barbara of course just laughed and rolled her eyes.

Barbara had settled on a few shirts, all of which looked very similar to each other.  Once again I tried to get her to consider something less conservative (boring).  I had found a polo shirt that said “Dead Presidents” and had 9 pictures of various presidents, formally dressed as if for their portraits, but they were all skeletons.  I thought this was a winner.  Oddly Barbara did not.

The salesgirl and owner seemed to side with me, all to no avail.  I tried to get my son on the phone to confirm he would wear it, but sadly he was unavailable.

I then suggested we buy the shirt for my daughter-in-law’s father.  Barbara pointed out that he was more conservative than our son (quite an accomplishment) and wouldn’t even eat pizza or chicken wings with his hands.

During all the time we were at the shop, the salesgirl kept laughing and asking us not to leave.  At one point she became somewhat confused when I mentioned Barbara was celebrating her anniversary soon with her first husband.  The girl stopped short and asked incredulously “You’re not married to each other?”

Once again, rolling her eyes, Barbara explained my cute way of referring to her marital status.

We all had a good time, laughing practically the whole time we were in the store.   The salesgirl was sad to see us go.

On the way home, our son returned our call.  I asked him “theoretically would he wear the Dead Presidents shirt?”  His disappointing answer was “not if he could help it.”

Barbara immediately wanted to call the salesgirl to confirm who was correct in regard to the shirt. I thought it was a good idea, but the number of the store was in the back seat with our purchases so we didn’t.

“If we were retired and rich, we could do this all the time.  This was really fun,” said Barbara while we were driving.

“We could do this just not buy anything.” I answered.

“What would be the fun in that?” she ended our discussion.

Redoing the Kitchen

Redoing the Kitchen

“We need a new kitchen” stated my wife, Barbara.

I tried to ignore her.

“I said, we need a new kitchen.”

More ignoring

“Shell, we need a new kitchen,” she said louder and more forcefully.

I looked up from reading the paper, looked at the kitchen and said thoughtfully, “Why?”

“These cabinets are 30 years old, that’s why,” she stated.

“They’re in great shape,” I answered. “Besides, we don’t use the kitchen for cooking.  Look at the new stove we just bought that has only been used once in the last year.  We don’t need a new kitchen.  This one is just like new from lack of use.”

Ignoring my logical and well reasoned argument, Barbara asked, “How much would a new kitchen cost?”

Knowing she would persist, I answered, “about $5,000, $1300 for cabinets, $2,000 or so for granite countertops and then there is labor.  Do you really want to spend that much on something we don’t use or need?”

I hoped that would be the end of it.  Fat Chance.

About once a week, Barbara brings up the new kitchen.  She invariably brings it up when we are with friends seeking their support. 

“Look how well the bathrooms came out,” she says, “You didn’t object to that, why are you objecting to a new kitchen?”

I try to counter with the “lack of use” argument: “Because we use the bathrooms,” I answer, “we don’t use the kitchen”.

This works well with the guys, but the wives have a different slant on it.  They go with the “Style over Function Theorem”

The Theorem states that “A cabinet that has not been redone must be redone even though it is in good shape and is not used”. The corollary to this is: “A kitchen that has not been remodeled is a poor reflection on the wife of the house and must be redone to restore her reputation.”

 I think the author of this theorem worked for the Woman’s Fashion Industry, since it seems to apply to clothes as well as kitchens.

My reasoned arguments that we don’t need to replace a perfectly presentable good kitchen with a new one are usually ignored by all the women who my wife presents to me as supporters of her argument. 

I counter with the “Money Ploy” which states that: the cost of the kitchen would pay for 10 trips to visit our daughter and her family in South Carolina.  It would also preclude our taking a vacation. I also point out that we are hoping to retire soon and we could use the $5,000.

Barbara is growing tired of my arguments against a new kitchen and is becoming more skeptical of my “lack of money” argument.

Once again the Sword of Damocles hangs over me.  I cling to my arguments and hope to outlast her persistence.

People who know us are betting on Barbara.