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12-16-03 Kimra
The art of mind reading
I swear my husband and I know each other very
well. Really! No, I mean it! I mean, I can just LOOK at him and tell he
is wishing that child in aisle four would stop screaming, or that he
thinks I am being too indulgent with our boys. I know that he'd rather
shop at Home Depot or Lowes than the fanciest store in the world, and
that he'd rather sit down at our own dinner table and eat, say, a roast
beef than to dine at a swanky restaurant. He loves to read, tinker in
his electronic workshop, go to movies, and be with the boys. He'll hurt
himself playing soccer to prove he's still twenty two, deep inside, and
he thinks I overcomit my free time. I know he's incapable of matching
clothing and that he likes the bed to be made tight every morning. I
know all of this, and much, much, more after nearly twenty one years of
marriage. So, why then, when they started calling out names at the
office luncheon for couples to play "The Not-So-Newleywed
Game" did I feel a flutter of fear in my stomach?
"I hope they don't call us." I whispered to my hubby. "I
just got my desserts." My little red plate was resplendent with
sugary treats; pecan pie, fudge iced brownies and cookies. The thought
of leaving that plate of delights behind in order to play a game was
horrifying to me. I hate picked through the main course so that I could
leave all my caloric intake available for the sweets. Just as I took my
first big bite of brownie, they called our names.
"No!" I hissed to my husband. "I want to eat my
dessert!" But my pleas to stay and dine fell on deaf ears.
"Come on." He motioned, pointing towards the stage area.
"And you have brownie in your teeth."
Woefully looking at my plate of treats, I took my place on the
stage beside my hubby where we, along with the other three couples, were
given the instructions for the day. Wiping the black crumbs out of my
teeth, I warned my husband as they led the men away that "you
better know the correct answers to these questions!"
I don't even have to tell you it turned out ugly. I mean, the man said
that if I were going to a deserted island, the one thing I could not
live without would be hot curlers! HOT CURLERS!
"What the......?!" I growled at him. "It is a DESERTED
island we're talking about! The adjective deserted means NO ONE IS
THERE! Why in the world would I want my HOT CURLERS?"
"Well, you know, you never go anywhere without them. Every time we
travel, we have to leave all that space in the suitcases for your
hot curlers!" He was filled with righteous indignation.
It just got uglier and uglier from there. And needless to say; we didn't
win the game. In fact, we came in a dismal third out of four places.....
a brutal signal to the corporate world he works at that we apparently do
not know each other as well as we think we do. To make matters worse,
all the other couples had been married less than ten years and the
winning couple just a few years! Here we were; the grizzled married
veterans of several decades and we were the proud recipients of the
third place booby prize- a mug full of peppermint hard candies.
"Hot curlers!" I mumbled to my husband one more time as we
returned to the table. "Well, at least I'll be able to eat my
desserts at long last." It was at that moment that the final
blow to a humiliating morning came to fruition; someone had cleared my
desert plate and my tea- and pouring salt in the wound----- no sign of
the dessert table remained.
Mute with horror, I gestured to the empty spot. My husband, who really
does know me, (despite the hot curler-gate) immediately sprang
into action, searching high and low for the desserts which had vanished
during our humiliating turn at the game show. Victorious, he returned
with a full pan of brownies and a fork, telling me I could eat what I
wanted and take some home for the road if I wanted.
As I enjoyed the first morsels of chocolate melting in my mouth, I knew
that despite what the game results might have indicated; a man who would
turn the world upside down looking for sweets really, really knows
me.... the real me- the girl with the perpetual mouth full of treats.
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