About Me

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Celoron, NY, United States
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. ~Sylvia Plath


Here we go!

And so here it is; the first installment of pretzelwisdom. What to say, what to say. I feel compelled to be wise, but the truth is I'm kind of a bullshitter. I freely tell others what they're doing wrong, and how they should live. I don't always take my own advice. Take my husband (please!) Just kidding. I've realized this summer that I need to try and appreciate him more. Have you ever noticed that you treat the person closest to you the worst? I'm the type of person who will go out of my way for anyone that I care about; and that covers a very broad scope of humanity. If a co-worker asked me to drive to Pittsburgh and pick up her cousin at the airport, I'd jump in the car in a minute. But let my husband ask me to refill his coffee cup as we lay around watching tv, and I sigh deeply, heaving myself off the couch; muttering "what's the matter, your legs broke?" as I snatch the mug from his hand. Anything he asks me to do is an imposition. The situation reached its zenith one day this summer. "Zeke" (not his real name) was out back of the house on a ladder, struggling to repair a fallen gutter. I was taking my leisure in the downstairs half bath when there came a knock at the back door. The bathroom window is next to the back steps; making restroom acitivities audible, and the head of the bathroom occupant visible, to anyone approaching the door. At the time, the persistant knocker was a neighbor wanting to talk to Zeke, and I was the unsuspecting urinator. Zeke, not wanting to leave his perch and interrupt his demanding work, demonstrated temporary deafness as I attempted to fold myself in half beneath the window and tinkle silently. I can't express here the resentment I felt toward Zeke at this moment. The son-of-a-bitch! Like I'm supposed to jump up, flush the toilet (which would immediately let the neighbor know why it was taking me so long to answer the door- of course he had only to look to his right to take it all in through the window) and hustle to the door! The non-stop yapping of our two little dogs only intensified my frustration. I did the only thing I could do; I just froze there and waited for the guy to leave; which he eventually did. I hastily got myself together and hot-footed it to the backyard. "Why didn't you answer the goddamned door?" I demanded. "I didn't hear anybody at the door," he lied. "How could you not hear it? I was on the toilet! I can't believe you hid back here." Zeke fumbled with his gutter-parts with what I was certain was a guilty smirk on his face. "Hey. I need you to run to the store and get me some silicone caulk," he said, without missing a beat.  I mean, can you freaking believe it? My reluctance must have been evident. Zeke peered down at me and said dryly, "Let's try something. Pretend I'm somebody else." And we both laughed until we cried. That's what has kept us going for thirty years.

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