The Sound of My Voice

So today I heard on the radio it's not our voice men don't want to hear, it's the volume.  Apparently we talk too much.  "We" being women.  I agree.  We as a collective gender talk way  too much.  We talk about everything and we talk all the time.  However, I thought about it and considered this scenario.  Most couples, married or other, spend 50 to 60 hours a week away from home.  Add six to 15 hours a week television watching.  Six to eight hours sleep.  Time away from each other with friends--not to mention children.  The time women have to talk to their spouses or boyfriends gets significantly chipped away by the end of the week.

What are men complaining about?  Yeah, women talk too much, but compared to other things cluttering men's lives.  There is very little time to have to tolerate women's tendency to talk too much.

I was curious about my husband's views on this topic.  I wanted to know if he thought I fit into the "talk too much" category.  I felt I did not.  I keep quiet about many things and purposefully choose not to chatter about nothing.  I have several friends that do indeed talk way too much.

Well.  Long story short.  "Sometimes" I talk too much.  This I find interesting.  When is this?  Is it possible when I am disagreeing with you or telling you something you don't want to hear?

Very interesting.

Buying Used Items on eBay

Look at the pictures.  Zoom in on corners and edges.  Don't accepts a blurred, too dark or too light photo.  Ask for close ups or different angles regardless of the item $20 or $200 when it arrives at your door it's yours.

I bought a pair of shoes for work.  New Balance 411.  The description and titles both claimed "Like New" and "New Without Box."  The pictures were a little blurry, but best I could tell they were nice shoes.  Here is the problem:

No pictures of the inside of the shoes and not pictures of the underside or soles of the shoes.  I needed shoes like yesterday, so I bought them and was very disappointed.  For them to have been "Like New" and "New Without Box," they had animal hair and some kind of dried yellow substance on the inside.  The tread on the shoes indicated the shoes had been worn more than once.  Including small rocks lodged in the cracks or the tread and some dried white substance was stuck to the sole.

I voiced my disappointment in a matter of fact message to the seller.  Long story short.  I could send them back or accept $10 dollars off.  I was concerned about losing my return shipping, so I counter offered $15 dollars off.  The seller offered the initial $10 again and let me know it would be cutting into his profit.  I told him I was disappointed but would not take the issue any further.

Two Confessions III

So it hurt.  It hurt very much to hear him tell the truth.  He'd always wanted me to work.  I never said anything to him or told him I heard what he said.  I kept quiet about it and obviously never forgot it.  I almost typed the words forgive but for a brief moment the word seemed inappropriate.

Forgive.

Forgive him for what?  For being honest?  I just wish he hadn't let me think he supported what I thought was our decision but was now my decision.  A sadness has replaced my shock and hurt.  Now I wait and watch for him to betray his words with his actions.  I expect it and I have never been disappointed.

Two Confessions II

Let's see.

So now I knew he's always wanted me to work.  What isn't included in that short conversation is a trip down memory lane, but not in a good way.  It's a sad terrible night that ended with an enraged father-in-law shaking a checkbook at me, begging me to get a job.  Any job.  Whatever job I could find.  Really?  Like I could only get a job in a McDonalds.

Let's go back a few moments further.  An angry father-in-law, a checkbook, and a poised ball point pen.   

Get a job.  

Any job and I will double whatever your pay is.  If you make five dollars an hour I will make it ten.

"No."  I said.  "I want to raise my son."

The grilling only continued.

I remember the room thick with electricity.  In their carefully chosen mobile home in their carefully chosen mobile home park.  Their carefully chosen brand-new mid-size affordable vehicles in the carport.   The in-laws were pretty certain they had arrived.  The good life was theirs.  Only a few loose ends.

I refused to work.  Perhaps earn my keep, if you will.  Whatever he had told them, whatever they assumed, I don't know.  They weren't at our pre-marital counseling sessions.  I would stay home and raise our children.  No one else.  It was his job to provide for the family and my job to make our home and family a safe haven from the world.

How did this fit into a quantifiable equation?  Heck if I know.

Their disappointment laced in anger was palpable that night.

I held my ground and left with my son and my dignity in tact.

It's always been about the money with them.  Write a check.  That will solve it.  Nothing was ever given without strings attached.  Interest.

I felt good about our little family.  We had ridden out a sizable storm that night.  The wrath of my father-in-law.  The weak silence of my mother-in-law.  We had held together and survived. 

In my opinion, we had done nothing wrong.  We were young.  All three of us.  We were poor.

There was so much more to come.

I would learn I was alone that night and would be alone again.

Two Confessions I

Isn't a confession something wrong we admit to?  I don't know.  I have two things in my life I can't let go.  Two things that have been with me for so many years they are a part of me, yet I can't be sure it's wrong.  Something was said and something was done that left a gaping wound so deep in my heart.  I can't get over and now I'm afraid I won't get over it.  A deep vein of hate and resentment that will not go away.  When I think of it, rage boils in me.

It's not an easy task.

I can't put a time frame on it.  Was it ten years, 15, or 20?  Six words that changed me and changed my life forever.  He doesn't know I heard him say it.

"I've always wanted her to work."

Pretty simple to consider.  He's always wanted me to work.  On its own the words seem pretty benign.  He's always wanted me to work.

In context, let's listen again:

"How do you feel about her having a job?"  He said.  Maybe not those exact words, but the insinuation was that he did not want me to work.

"I've always wanted her to work."  He answered.

I've.  
Always.  
Wanted. 
Her.  
To.  
Work.

My heart broke.