Sunday, February 21, 2010

Why is it?

...that whatever we decide that we really,really like, the manufacturers promptly discontinue? Recent deaths include sugar-free Tang, sugar-free Mentos, turkey sausage links, McCains roasted potatoes, whatever bra my daughter likes at Vickie's Secret, hot and spicy Chex mix, baked quesadilla chips, and a host of other long-gone and well-loved products.

...that the inverse is true also? Whenever my family decides they love something and I find it on sale I'll buy a large quantity, only to discover that they suddenly don't like it any more.

...that the weather reports are always wrong until THIS year? Yup, every single blessed inch of snow that was predicted showed up. Why could they not have been wrong again, per usual?

...that every time I sent for the registration materials for a master's degree, I found myself pregnant? I'll be fifty this year, and I'm still terrified to even contemplate getting that degree.

...that everyone sneers at and makes fun of that old standard, green bean casserole, but every time I take a big double-batch to a potluck not a spoonful comes home again?

...that I can sit in my comfy old rocker for an hour, but it isn't until five minutes before I have to get up that the cat jumps up into my lap?

...that I have managed to stay married for nearly 23 years? We have absolutely nothing in common. I'm a lark, he's an owl. I like main roads and direct routes, he likes back roads and as many corners to turn as humanly possible. I like veggies, he must have meat. I'm a technotard, he's a technogeek. When vacation time rolls around, I say "At last, some time at home!". He says "Where shall we go?". I'm all about books, he's all about television. I like quiet, he likes background noise. In other words, I'm an introvert, he's an extrovert. It's extraordinary that we ever got married to start with, and it's a miracle that we have stayed that way.

...that a mutual love of God and family can override all those incompatibilities? It's grace, that's all. Sheer grace.

Love, Spud.