April Aasheim's Blog, page 21

The Good Wife's Guide - Updated for Today's Woman

The Good Wife's Guide
From Housekeeping Monthly, 13 May, 1955.

Original Article
 




While browsing the Internet I came across this gem on how to be a Good Wife, circa 1955.

I'm not sure about you,  but I dont' think I'd last long following these 'rules'.

In that spirit, I've submitted a new guide for the modern woman. It's much more managable. You just replace martini's with depression pills and away you go.

Here are the original 'rules' (in bold) and my modifications below. Follow either set of rules at your own peril.
                                                                            ***

1. Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have be thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they get home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.

Today's Good Wife: Call your husband on his way home from work. Tell him to pick up a bucket of chicken and a six pack of PBR. Tell him his other option is that suspicious looking leftover in the fridge that neither one of you can put a carbon date on. Most men are fearful of  food poisoning and . will be excited to avoid this.

2. Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Run a dust cloth over the tables.

Shove all your QVC merchandise into the closets. When they are full use the garage. You can clean them out for your annual yard sale. When he asks what why there are 300 wickless candles on your credit card receipt remind him of the time he 'forgot' to wear his wedding ring to his high school reunion. Rinse and repeat as needed.

3. Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet.

At the time of his arrival, start the washer and dryer, even if there's nothing in it. He will think that you've been hard at work all day and will forgo his usual lecture on "what exactly did you do while I was gone?"

4. During the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

Set the shed on fire. Make sure all of his GI Joe Action Figures,holey pairs of underwear, and pictures of his ex-girlfriend are inside. When he asks 'What the hell happened' say 'Oopsie daisy' followed by 'Sorry honey, I'm a girl. I didn't know this matchy thing could get that hot. My bad.'


5. Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

Prepare yourself. Put on your game face so that he can't tell you've been fantasizing about what it would have been like to have married Rod Bishop,, that cute jock you used to date, instead. Douse yourself with half a can of fabreeze and remove all evidence of your afternoon Cheetos binge.

Double up on the Prozac. 

He has just been working with a lot of pretty women who still have their hopes, dreams, and pre-baby figures.

Cry yourself to an ambien induced sleep, but wait until he's busy with his computer porn addiction.


6. Don't greet him with complaints and problems.


Don't greet him with complains and problems. Let him find out for himself that little Bobby flushed thirteen washcloths down the toilet and that you cancelled the NFL package on cable so that you could afford your Mystic tanning sessions.

By allowing him to figure out the problem himself, you are letting him play Sherlock Holmes. Men love role play.


7. Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or lie him down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

Make him feel comfortable. Never take out the garbage. Don't wash the dishes. Let your home become as filthy as his old frat house. It will bring back warm feelings of nostalgia for him. If that doesn't provide a sense of comfort for him, scream at him like his mother used to. He compares you to her anyway.

8. Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

Be a little gay. Submit to that threesome he's been hounding you about. Or tell him about that guy you kissed in college who looked sort of like Janet Reno.

By participating in his deviant fantasies you are buying yourself time to figure out where your life has gone wrong.

9. Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through at work.

Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Hey, it's more KFC for you and you get the queen bed to yourself . When he stumbles in at 3 AM drunk and horny, make sure to have the doors locked and the sprinklers on. A nighttime bath is both refreshing and invigorating and won't use up all your hot water.

10. Be happy to see him.

Be happy to see him. On Fridays. When it's payday.Tell him you will deposit his check for him, then take a good  of that money and put it somewhere he won't look. Like the pantry. Save it. You'll need it.

11. Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

Listen to him, even as he tells you all sorts of fun facts about nuts and screws and some guy named Ted in accounting whose wife let him buy a riding lawnmower. He might also add that there's this new woman at work reminds him of you ten years ago.

Let him talk until you want to stick hamsters in your ears just to drown out the noise.

Start a conversation in a Yahoo Chat group with a random stranger who 'gets you' while he is watching Sports Center. Plan your escape.

12. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

Arrange his pillows for him. Try to resist arranging it over his sleeping face. It's not time. Yet.

13. Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. That lipstick on his collar was probably due to a freak cranberry juice accident and those bodies in his trunk are most likely those of previous wives who did questions his motives. Shut your mouth and call Lifetime Television. Let them know you have an idea for their next episode of Wives with Knives.


14. A good wife always knows her place.

A good wife always knows her place. It turns out its in prison. For murdering her husband.

It All Started with Nancy Drew

      It was the summer before fifth grade and I had just turned eleven. Once again, I would be the newkid in school and I spent several weeks staring out the window, picking apart the girls who walked by, trying to guess by their mannerisms and clothing if they would accept me.

     By nature I wasn’t shy but years of moving around, sometimes cycling through two or even three schools in a single year, had taught me to be…careful. By studying the locals first I could copy them, lessening the risk that that I would spend my lunch hours alone, pretending to read a book.

     As I peered through the window, a cranberry sedan pulled into my driveway. I watched as two figures talked in the front seat. Eventually they emerged, carrying several large sacks and boxes. I recognized them as my grandmother and her new husband whom I hadn’t seen in over a year.

     I could hear excited squeals as my mother and siblings ran out to greet them, but I stayed sequestered in my room. I was at the age where family affairs took a back seat to more pressing issues, like my quest for popularity. A knock on the door let me know that my lack of presence had been noticed. I opened the door to find my new step-grandfather standing there, a small bag dangling from his hand.

     “Thought you might like this,” he said, handing me the bag. “I picked it out myself.”

     I raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. “You did? Why?”

     “Well, we’re both newcomers to this family. We have to stick together.”

     I took the bag and pulled out a yellow and blue hardcover book. I searched the rest of the bag, hoping for something else, like money.

     “Nancy Drew,” he explained. “My daughter loved it when she was your age. I thought you might too.”

     “Okay,” I said. I took the book, closed the door, and flung it on my bed.

     Dusk had settled and the neighborhood quieted as kids were summoned into their houses for supper. My mom announced that it was Shepherd’s Pie for dinner, and I faked a stomachache. With nothing else to do I fell onto the bed and opened the book. Anything was better than Shepherd’s Pie.

     I had read books before. I had grown up on the staple of children’s books available at that time,
works by Cleary and Blume. But there was something different about this book. I wasn’t just reading the story. I was immersed in it.

     Maybe it was because Nancy was my first grown up protagonist. Through her I was transported to an adult world where girls were allowed to make their own decisions, date, and drive. In addition, she was bright and curious, traits my teachers also accused me of, and I felt a kinship with the ‘girl detective’.

     The more I read about Nancy the more I loved her. I dove into the book, coming up for air and food only briefly and at the insistence of my mother, and had the entire novel read in one long weekend.When I closed that last page I was confronted by an emotion I had never experienced when reading a book: loss.

     I was never going to see Nancy again!

     The realization, along with prepubescent hormones, made me burst into tears.

     I couldn’t lose Nancy. I just couldn’t. I picked the book again. I wasn’t ready to part with my new heroine, and I would simply read it again. That’s when I noticed a long list of other titles on the back of the book. Nancy solved many mysteries, not just this one!

     From that day on, I was hooked. I begged my mom for odd jobs to earn enough money to buy another book. It wasn’t enough to borrow them from the library, I needed to own them. To possess them. I couldn’t bear to part with one, after it had become such a part of me. Whenever I was alone, I would look at my bookshelf – which was growing rapidly – and know that I had a friend there. All I had to do was open a book.

     Nancy taught me a lot that summer: I learned new vocabulary words including “chided” and“titian-haired” and “sleuth”. I learned that there were sinister people in the world but if you were pure of heart you could overcome them. And I learned that just because you lost one parent, it didn’t mean you were lost.

     Admittedly, Nancy also got me into trouble. I started seeing clues, and secret passages and mysteries everywhere. I tried to convince my little sister to climb into the heating duct because I was sure there was treasure hidden there (luckily she didn’t). And once I had my parents call the police because I was convinced I had witnessed a murder. I had been out riding my bike and was sure a man had threatened a woman with a knife. Upon investigation, it was determined to be a pork chop bone.

     When school started I was a different person, poised and ready to take on the world. Nancy could do it.

     So could I.

     That year I strode into the classroom, not caring at all what I was wearing. I took my seat among a classroom of strangers, smiled confidently, and raced through my schoolwork so that I could read the next chapter of a really good book. I must have been intriguing to the other girls, for I never sat alone at the lunch table. Even when I wanted to.

     In the years since fifth grade my tastes have changed, but my love of a good story hasn’t. Every time I pick up a new book, my fingers twitch, my mouth goes dry, and my heart races. I’m off an adventure and I just can’t wait to get started.

     I still feel a sense of loss when I read those two dreaded words: The End. But with the help of a Kindle and a Nook, I’ve learned to curtail my book hording tendencies. I don’t need to see them in order to be transported back. I will always have them. I just have to remember.

*
By April Aasheim. Originally published on TheIndieExchange.com Feb 5, 2013

Un-Decorating the Tree

“It’s time we take down the tree.” I hollered downstairs to my husband who has had his eyes glued on the NFL playoffs all morning. Suddenly, like a comic book superhero, he ran up the stairs, zipped past me, and stood in front of the tree.
“Already?”
I sighed. My husband liked Christmas more than most children. It was one of the things I found endearing in him during our early stages of courtship. He would keep the tree up all year if I let him.
“Yes, honey.”
“But we just put it up.”
“Almost two months ago. It’s time.” I crossed my arms and he slipped back into his mancave. If I wanted to un-decorate the thing he wasn’t going to stop me, but he wasn’t going to help me either.
My step-daughter sat on the sidelines, half-watching, half-playing with her harem of new Barbie Dolls that Santa had somehow managed to load onto his sleigh.
“You okay with this?” I asked her. She nodded back, ponytail bobbing.
I sighed again, returning to my task. Dozens of lights, ornaments, bows, and candy canes donned our tree. Removing them was a daunting task. It was always more fun putting them on the tree then taking them off.
I reached for an ornament, stopped, and found another. My brain said ‘take them off’ but my hands weren’t cooperating.
“Okay,” I said out loud, feeling crazy because my husband and step-daughter had lost interest by now, “you can do this.”
As I reached for the purple ceramic teddy bear - painted long ago by my son when he was young and still thought I was amazing - I stopped. I couldn’t take it down. It was too much.
I wasn’t just stripping the tree, I was stripping away my life; Years of collected memories going into a box. How could I do this? It was almost cruel.
I surveyed the tree again. Every ornament had a story: the beautiful, expensive ornaments given to us as gifts, hanging alongside the dime store decorations accrued during  years I could barely afford a holiday. “Remember that one?” My inner voice asked. “Your dad gave you that one on his last Christmas…”
I choked.
"Stop being silly", I told myself. "This isn’t permanent. I will see all my treasures again next year."
But maybe I wouldn’t
I thought about people I knew - whose lives had suddenly ended. They hadn't gotten their 'one last Christmas'.  I thought about how fleeting life was and how you never knew for sure if things as simple as a holiday would come again. I choked again and the tears welled up.
“You okay?” My husband hollered up at me. He was good at ‘feeling’ me, even when it was the NFL playoffs. I gulped, swallowed, and nodded. He didn’t see me but he understood.
Somehow I collected myself and got the job done. I removed them all, carefully wrapping each one in soft newspaper. I placed them in boxes in long, thin rows, hoping they would make the journey through another year intact.
“You know the holidays are coming back,” my step-daughter said, marching her dolls around in a parade on the floor. “They are in a circle.” She is an incredible girl. She understands things on a level most people don’t get.
I nodded at her and smiled.
“Halloween first?” She asked. Her blue eyes widened as she tried to imagine what she was going to dress up as.
“Not Halloween. Not for a while.”
“Oh. First it’s Valentine’s Day, then Easter, then my birthday…” She counted down. “Then Halloween?”
“Yep. You’re getting good at that.”
“That’s why I go to Kindergarten.”
I saved her Hallmark Ornaments for last: Ariel, Cinderella, and Snow White. They had all mysteriously lost their arms during the festivities this year. She gave each a peck on the head and told them she would see them next year. Then I put them in the last bin, and closed the lid.
I smiled. She had faith in the circle. So could I.
The house looked starker, emptier as I removed the last trappings of Christmas from our house and piled them into the garage.
“All done,” I told her when the last bin was stacked.
“Maybe we can get some glue and glitter and red paper and start decorating for Valentine’s Day,” she said. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“That sounds like a great idea. I think a trip to the craft store is in order.”
“I’ll get the keys,” my husband said. He must have heard us, even though his team was playing.
“No.” I looked around the house. My husband was cozy in his sweatpants, my step daughter was dressing one of her dolls. Pictures of my family – my sons, my siblings, my mother, my father - graced the shelves. Life was uncertain but life was good. “Let’s wait a few days. It’s good to remember things before moving on. Besides,” I added, looking at the bare window where the Santa Claus cling-ons had been only moments before, “It will give us something to look forward to next week.”

My Winter Road Trip

     Just returned from a vacation to my husband's home state of Montana. I was raised in Arizona, and the whole 'driving in the snow' thing is new to me. Needless to say I had more than one or two white knuckled moments on the drive home.

     My husband informed me that we only had four treacherous obstacles to pass...kind of like a quest. I had my imaginary break going the entire time. I also created a list of Ten Things You Never Want to Hear Your Husband Say on a Winter Road Trip.

10. This is the exact spot where the Donner Party gave up and ate each other.

9. I sure hope that was a bear.

8. The good news is...if we make it through the next two hours we will probably live.

7. Ever had road kill?

6. This is just like that first part of Fire in the Sky.

5. I just need to answer this one last text...

4. The nearest bathroom is 380 miles away. But, we do have an empty milk jug and a funnel in the back seat.

3. I had a dream you left your curling iron on and the whole house caught on fire.

2. If we do get stranded, just make a snow fort. It will keep you warm.

1. Maps are for pu**ies.

Going Ho-Ho-Home for the Holidays

     Getting ready to drive to MT for the holidays. It seemed like a good idea when we planned it. A case full of snacks, my travelling play list, magazines to read, and a joke book to keep the driver (my husband) entertained while he watches the road.

     Road trips are always fun, right?

     Except that I forgot one crucial element: the weather.

     It seems that Jack Frost is working against us. There are blizzards and closures and all manner of bad things falling from the sky. Now I have to ask myself what I was thinking when I thought driving to MT would be more fun than flying?

     Its looking like we may be late getting to our destination. Or maybe not getting there at all.

     But if my Hallmark holiday movies have taught me anything it's that as long as there is Christmas, there is hope.

     The movies start out like this: a well meaning couple with a car full of presents, snowed in. They are depressed and miserable.  How will they get back home for the holidays?

     Perhaps the snow will miraculously let up and they can make the drive at the last minute.

     Or maybe the family will come to them.

     Or...maybe the couple will decide to spend the holidays at home, making the best of it with hot cocoa and candle light while munching on Spam and fig newtons (okay I fudged on the menu).

     Those are fine endings, but my favorite goes like this...


     It's Christmas Eve. We werent able to make it home. We are woebegone as we hang our empty stockings on our non-existent fire place. "Maybe we can just sleep through Christmas," I say, looking at the clock and the bottle of Nyquil on the nightstand.

     "Sounds like a good plan," my husband says, sighing dramatically. "There's always next year."

     Suddenly, there's a jingle outside.

     "Honey," I say to my husband, "are you expecting a package?"

     "No." My befuddled husband scratches his head. "The post office is closed for the day and the weather is so bad no cars can visit. Not sure where that jingle is coming from."

     I (naturally its me, and not the befuddled husband) rush to the door and fling it open, fighting back the snowflakes that are obscurring my view. I see a brown hoof on our lawn, and then another. I do a quick count. Why, there are (what's 8 x 4 again?) oh there are 32! My eyes rise towards a shiny red craft in the yard. A sleigh! A fat old man sits atop it, a giant red bag to his side.

     "I've come to take you two to your family for Christmas. Get on in!" He waves us over. Our jaws drop. We jump into the sleigh, no sweaters or gloves, and sail away, over the blizzards, and are set down gently on the roof of my in-laws.

     "Thank you!" I say as I tumble out of the sleigh. But I'm too late. The mysterious, fat stranger is gone.

     Somehow we slide off the roof and hop down onto the ground without damaging our ankles. We look into the window. There is goose and duck and turkey on the table (though I can't tell the difference between any of them). Holiday music is playing magically on the piano. We have made it just in time for Christmas Eve dinner. And all is well.


     That's how I think it will play out. Hallmark wouldnt lie to me. If TV has taught me anything it's that if you wish hard enough, miracles happen.

Or maybe we'll just make the drive and take our chances. The worst that can happen is that we get stranded in the snow and have to eat each other. But that's another movie and it's on the Syfy channel. They don't air that till New Year's.

Reminder: My book The Universe is a Very Big Place is ava...

Reminder: My book The Universe is a Very Big Place is available for download free today on Amazon. Also tomorrow.

De 13 and 14th only. Happy Holidays!

My Book Free Dec 13 and 14!

Top Reasons Aliens Visited Us on 12/12/12

So...

There are two UFO sitings on opposite sides of the US coast: San Francisco and New York.

Scientists are saying they are NOT UFOS, but most likely balloons with lights.

I for one, believe. But why would UFO's visit SF and NY? And why now?

I've got some theories about why we are being visited:

The aliens are testing out a new and efficient Hanukkah tradition. They know Earthlings are busy. By putting up three or four lights in the sky at once, we can knock this holiday out in half the time. This will give us more time for other holidays like ThanksXmas.
They've heard NY and SF throw the best parades. Sorry, greys, you missed Macy's by a month and the Rainbow one by half a year. Check back later!
They checked their fortune cookies and determined that 12/12/12 was the luckiest day for taking over the earth. And to Feng Shui the mother ship.
They've heard about the Mayan Calendar Prophecy and wanted to see if it was true. Got here early to get good seats. The SF aliens have also reserved seats around Area 51 for their friends Bob and Carol and their 23000 kids.
The shopping! Hello! If you can't find a great coat or a fabulous pair of jeans in San Francisco or New York, you just aren't looking right.
They are doing research to see which city scares easier. Sadly, startling humans just isn't as easy as it was in the 1930s. Stupid Internet.
The earth is the only designated pit stop in an intergalactic Amazing Race.
They've cloned an army of Dick Clarks and brought one back just in time for New Year's. Watching the countdown from the Moon wouldn't be nearly as fun without him.
They saw that picture of the cop and the homeless guy on their I200Pad. It inspired them to bring shoes to all our homeless. Too bad their shoes only come in sizes: 000, extra narrow.
One of the alien's wives wanted a steak she didn't have to prepare herself for a change. Cow mutilation is so 1950's.
Both ships got lost on their way to Saturn and no matter how many times Lois and Zgfriiee nagged their husbands wouldn't stop and ask for directions.
They just wanted some really good Chinese food (and China was closed).

My Holiday Ritual

As part of the Meet the Family Blog Hop we are supposed to share something we do as a family during the holidays.

I've never had much permanency in my life. I spent most of my childhood moving from one house to another. In my early adult years I also traveled quite a bit, living in 5 states in 12 years. These last ten years in Oregon have been the longest I have ever lived anywhere, and in the same home.

One tradition that I have established for myself is my end of the evening 'me time'.  This includes finding the cheesiest, gushiest Christmas movie I can tolerate from TV stations like Lifetime, Hallmark and TMC. The plots are pretty much the same. Save a town. Save Santa. Save Christmas. Sometimes characters find love in the process. I've been doing it since I've owned a TV. Admittedly, its gotten better since I got cable.

I'm a writer but I enjoy how predictable these are. They are like comfort food for me. I know without a doubt that everything will be okay by the end of the movie and that are no surprise endings. If I'm really lucky there's a kiss under the mistletoe.

A few years ago I got married. The first year my husband watched me watching my movies. He said it was cute and charming and one of the things he loved about me.

Last year he started watching them with me. Every night before bed he would slide onto the couch with me, pick up the remote, and find one the two of us would watch together. We ate cookies, drank cocoa and laughed at all the ludicrous plot points of our chosen flick.

Of all the wonderful things my husband does for me, this little tradition ranks high on the list. These movies aren't his thing, but he shares them with me. He's telling me I'm not alone anymore. And that's more than I could ever ask from Santa.



This post is part of a "meet the family" holiday blog hop. Please visit others participating in this activity by clicking on the button below.

[image error]

Feliz Navi-Enough?

     Making cookies with my mom this morning. I feel bad that I'm not more 'jolly' about it. The commercials tell me that I should be smiling, singing, joking, utterly and completely enjoying my task. But my face is drawn  and my brow is wrinkled as I mix and knead the dough. I don't like cracking eggs. I am sure an eggshell or two escapes into the bowl. My fingers are sticky and I can't wipe them off with a paper towel. I wash my hands a zillion times. This is supposed to be fun, but its work.

     I have lights on the tree and candles glowing and baby it really is cold outside. But in these moments I wonder where all the 'magic' of the season is; Why I look forward to something so much only to have it become another thing on my 'to do' list?

     I know that when this season is over I will mourn it. I will have nothing to stave off the lonely months of January through March. Portland winter rain, without the warmth of twinkling lights, is downright depressing.

     I jump back into my cookie making, determined to give it the spirit it deserves. Sprinkles. That's what these cookies need. Sprinkles make everything better.

     Meanwhile mom is buzzing, her hands elbow deep in dough. She is talking about things I don't understand. Relatives I never knew. Conspiracies I can't imagine. And what Bones is doing on TV.

Fa La La La - Run!

So I'm going away for Christmas. It's the third year in a row that I will be spending Christmas with my husband's family, and not my own.

I'm okay. Really I am. My family has plans of their own on Christmas anyway. Still, it feels funny. It's like my house will miss me or something.

It also feels weird to hang lights and deck the halls when we won't be around to celebrate.

My step-daughter asked me if Santa will still come to our house if we aren't there. I want to tell her that yes, of course, Santa will come. He won't skip our house just because we aren't there. We have a Santa Stops Here sign that says so.

However, although she is five I think she may be trying to trick me into more gifts.

She knows we are doing 'present day' early this year, before we take off (she will be spending Christmas with her mom).  If Santa comes and we aren't there, naturally there will be presents waiting for her when she gets back.

Clever kid.

For now I'm just fudging, hoping she forgets. She's only five. Her attention span can't be that long.

On another note we are leaving on Dec 21, 2012, the day the Mayan Calendar ends and some say, so does the world.

I was watching the History Channel and it aired a special on Nostradamus and his end of world predictions. According to Nostradamus experts they've narrowed down the exact epicenter of the end of the world. Ironically, it happens to be the exact place I will be traveling to on that day.

I can just see the line of cars leaving the area as we are driving in.

I guess if the world is going to end its better to be at the center of it than the perimeter. I've read The Road. I don't want to be kept on ice in some body's basement meat locker when the resources run dry. At least this way it's Boom. Game over.

Still, I might stock up on water and jerky. With Twinkies out of the equation I'm not sure what other food sources will last indefinitely and are easy to pack.

I'm also running up credit cards and running on the treadmill. The first is in case the world really does end. Might as well charge as much as I can if I don't have any debt. Does this mean my student loan is finally forgiven?

The second is in case the world sort-of ends and I need to run away from shit. All that treadmill running will come in handy.