Stressed with Maury
One of the joys of being married is the stress your husband creates. Maury and I have been together decades and he still manages to surprise me. I have accepted the fact that I will never get rid of the History Channel or golf. Isn't it a cliché for doctors to play golf? This week a news story set him off.
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Recently theTennessee Senate passed a bill that bars teachers from discussing homosexuality or alternative lifestyles with elementary and middle school students. I had no idea he would be so passionate about it.
"Jean, you can't say 'gay' in Tennessee," Maury tells me as he grips the steering wheel while we drive to Wildflower, a neighborhood haunt that serves multiple pieces of bread with everything you order. My mother enjoys this because she takes it all home, puts it in her freezer and forgets about it.
"Well, I wasn't planning to. Why?" I text Lara to remind her that she's picking up her grandmother for our family dinner.
"Because it's not fair to restrict someone's freedom of speech. They can't ban a word. We have to do something about this."
"Like what? Go to Tennessee and protest?" I respond to Rivka to see if she'll pick up my mother.
"That's exactly what I was thinking! We can stand outside the schools and say 'gay, gay, gay.' Prove a point." He slaps the dashboard with enthusiasm.
"Maury, there is no way we're taking a trip to Tennessee. I have more important issues to deal with." Rivka, upon hearing she might have to go out of her way, texts me that she's exhausted from shopping and can't pick up my mother because she has catarrh, an inflammation that involves mucus. I delete her.
"What's more important than basic human rights? Besides, they're not teaching about it. They just can't say the word. I'm going to Google the ACLU when I get home to see what they're doing."
"Maury, we don't have time to get involved in other states' problems. We have plenty right here." My mother is calling my cell phone. I will call her back. I have to make sure my darling husband doesn't get involved in some crazy scheme that involves the Deep South, the word "gay," and his latest obsession, Civil War re-enactors because he's reading Confederates in the Attic by Tony Horwitz.
"Honey," I say in my best soothing voice, "Let's not get excited. We have plenty to do right here in Arizona with Sarah moving to North Scottsdale, an invasion of stink bugs and the capture of the Rock Burglar." I have to make sure he doesn't get me involved in one of his annoying political campaigns too.
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Sarah Palin Just Purchased This Home In Scottsdale
"Stink bugs? The ones that leave fruit bruised and discolored and give off a horrendous odor? Why didn't you tell me this sooner? We have to help our local farmers fight those creeps."
"Sweetheart, stay on Scottsdale Road. We're picking up my mom."
"Huh? Thought the kids were doing that. What happened?"
"You don't want to know."
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