Five things I learned from my wife recently

When you’re married,  you find yourself constantly learning new things.  Of course, most of these “learning experiences” are things you never really knew you were interested in.  But, by God, your wife is interested in them, so, yeah, you’re interested!  With that in mind, following are five things I learned from my wife recently:

1. Even though we’re not 116 years old, it is important that our new sofa be completely covered front to back with blankets, sheets, and other assorted bedding.  Apparently her theory is “if you can’t see the sofa, you can’t soil the sofa”.  Brilliant.  Simply brilliant.

2. There are thousands of extremely important things in this world.  But apparently, laundry is the most important of all these things.

3. Women never really seem too interested in walking with their husbands.  It’s their dogs that get that special nightly, romantic interlude.

Image result for photos of woman walking dogs

4. When it’s time for my wife to get up in the morning, it’s time for everybody to get up.

5. Happy wife, happy life.  Unhappy wife, probably best to leave her alone for at least 5, maybe 6 hours.




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When women go camping

My wife asked me to make a reservation for her and about a half dozen or so of her friends/co-workers for a weekend of camping over fall break.  Well, yeah, I did as I was told, of course.

But what I don’t understand, what I can’t possibly understand, what I’ll never understand, is why the woman who loves me more than anything in the world (allegedly) would ever want to leave me.  Yes, it’s only for two nights, that’s true.  But two is more than one, which is definitely more than zero.  And zero is the appropriate number of days that any woman should ever leave the man they love (allegedly).

Please don’t get me wrong.  I know women need a break sometimes, especially this particular group of women.  You see, my wife and her friends are teachers.  High school teachers.  High school math teachers.  Good Lord, who wants to be any of those things?!!  I guess it’s too late now for any of them to go back to the drawing board at this point.

Anyway, back to the original point of this rant.  They’ve decided to go camping. In our motor home, no less.  Keep in mind that my wife has never hooked up our RV to any of the assorted connections.  Check that-she has always vehemently refused to do any of the “hooking up” upon arriving at a campground.  Oh no.  No water line will ever touch the delicate fingers of she who must be obeyed.  No power cord shall be connected by the fairest in the household.  And, sweet Mother Mary, don’t even broach the topic of a sewer connection hose.  What is wrong with you?

But that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my concerns for my fair maiden and her band of merry women on their upcoming trip into the woods.  Actually, it’s those woods that scare me the most, because I know just how traumatizing some of the things in those woods can be, especially for a group of delicate little flowers like this particular group of ladies.  You know the things I’m talking about.  Among the things lurking in those god forsaken woods are raccoons, rabbits, possum, and who knows how many species of squirrel and chipmunk, probably none of which have eaten a good meal in days.  Oh, yeah, they’re all out there, just waiting.  And I haven’t even touched on what could happen if the girls aren’t properly deeted up as night falls.  This is Indiana, after all.  Yep.  Mosquitoes as big as your head!  This trip is just downright spooky.

Image result for photos of women camping

What I’m trying to say is this:  These poor young ladies should just stay home, where it’s safe.  It’s also much, much easier.  No packing up an RV.  No driving to a far off locale and having to hook up any number of lines and hoses.  And certainly no life-threatening, wild animals lurking just feet away at any moment.  So please, girls, just stay home where I know that no harm will come to you.

Besides, I get kinda scared all by myself.




  • Things you should know before you become a teacher
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Working out with my wife

So I’ve been pondering the possibility of working out with my wife.  I really need something else added to my workouts (something besides lifting).  My wife is a big proponent of yoga and tells me she will do it with me.

But my mind keeps coming back to a form of exercise that I first heard about several years ago.  For some reason it seems like it might be just the thing for us.

What do you think?

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Five ridiculous things my wife requires of me

When long-time bachelors give up their practice of singledom (yes, a word I’m fairly certain I just invented), they are never really fully prepared for the dramatic changes in store.  As a former practitioner of the male single life, I feel that I am uniquely positioned to offer some insight into some of these changes a man might face.  Following are five utterly ridiculous things my wife requires of me:

  1. Laundry.  Oh, sure, she doesn’t expect me to actually load the clothes into the washer and add detergent.  But it’s just a little annoying to be expected to trudge all the way downstairs just to transfer the clothes from washer to dryer or, worse still, unloading the dryer and bring those clothes all the way back up.  I’m sure you’re wondering the same thing I am: Why can’t she just stay down there once she starts a load and wait for it to finish up?  Now that I think of it, I think I’ll suggest that to her.  You know, it’s asking a lot of a woman to make repeated trips back and forth, up and down the stairs.  I can save her from that. Image result for photos of men doing laundry
  2. Clean the refrigerator.  I don’t know whether or not you’ve done this recently, or ever, but let me tell you, it’s a damn dirty job.  From the glass shelves to the door compartments, lord only knows what some of that nasty, crusted-over stuff is.  I just fail to understand why this is my responsibility.  Hey, I didn’t spend all our hard-earned money on this stuff, much less load it all up to the point where nothing can possibly be found.  You see my point here, I’m sure.
  3. Sweep and mop the floor (on occasion).  This particular practice is just simply an act of insanity.  Unless we’re on the decorator’s show house tour, then who are we trying to fool with the “clean floor” routine?  I’m seriously worried what our guests will think next time they’re over.  You know, a spotless floor is a dishonest floor.  It seems pretentious to me.  But that’s just me.
  4. This one is just in to the newsroom, if you will.  I was just given instructions to drain our hot tub.  No, there was no kind offer of assisting me.  No “if you would be so kind as to drain my tub, I’ll happily poor you a glass of wine and give you a gentle neck massage.”  No, none of that.  Just a simple order to go out back and drain the tub.  As you can tell, I’m speechless on this one.
  5. Oh, my God!!  This literally just happened.  The woman who claims she loves me more than life itself just walked over in my direction (as I was relaxing on the couch, you know, for the first time in about a week), and approached as if she were on her way to take my socks off, which is kinda awesome when it does happen.  But that wasn’t it at all.  Apparently the socks are my responsibility, too.  I guess it’s just not my day.  Image result for photos of a fat man on the couch


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Five things better (for a guy) than having to watch Bachelor In Paradise

For men, well, at least men who have any desire to maintain their man card, actually choosing to watch an episode of Bachelor In Paradise could very well be an act that forces the relinquishing of said man card.  But, hey guys, believe it or not, there are other options available to us that would certainly be much more preferable.

Following is a list of 5 things better than being hog-tied and forced to watch the show.

  1. Eating raw fish guts.  Hell, why not keep it healthy by sauteing those morsels in extra virgin olive oil.  Mmm.  No better way to eat ’em.
  2. Wearing crocs to Sturgis during Bike Week, telling anyone who’ll listen that you wear yours for style, not comfort.
  3. Binge-watching an entire season of any of the “Real Housewives” shows.  Far superior plot structure and overall production quality.
  4. Sniffing your bellybutton lint, then trying to determine what the scent most closely resembles.
  5. Kissing your sister (brother?).  With an open mouth.  For a long time.
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Hen parties: What every man needs to know about them

Everyone loves to get together with good friends every so often to catch up on things. Whether meeting for dinner or just hanging out at Starbucks for an hour or two and shooting the breeze over a cup of joe, it just feels good to see your buddies again. But when that group of friends consists exclusively of women, well, then you’ve taken things to a whole new level.  In these particular instances, you’re talking about one of the most secretive gatherings to be found anywhere.  Yes, I’m talking about hen parties.

Scholars disagree on where and when these hen parties originated.  Some point to the Victorian era in England, in which women found themselves becoming the “property” of their husbands.  (Of course, many modern-day man don’t really see what the big deal is there.)  Anyway, my guess is that this led some of Queen Victoria’s female subjects to arrange for clandestine “coffee clatches” on Saturday mornings at their favorite coffee shop.  You know, they were on virtually every corner back then.

Others, including many renowned archaeologists, believe these secretive hen parties began in the days of ancient Egypt, probably in the time of Tutankhamun, or Rameses II, or maybe even Cleopatra.  Rumors have been rampant for hundreds of years about women of these ancient times gathering on the banks of the Nile to, I don’t know, exchange ancient recipes and supportive hugs, maybe?

I know exactly what you’re thinking:  “What is the point of this pseudo-intellectual rant, you rambling idiot?”

My point is this:  All of these little hen parties, from the earliest of times, have been absolutely off-limits to men.  That bothers me, and I think it should bother all men.  I mean, we’re men!  We invented the wheel, for shit’s sake.  Women owe us, don’t ya think?

But what bothers me more than anything, even more than being left out of this little chick party, is the secretive nature of all this.  Why must those of the fairer sex insist on having these seemingly clandestine, almost Illuminati-like meet-ups at these strange locales, and at such seemingly random times?  Why?  Are there deep, dark secrets that can’t be shared with their spouses or boyfriends?  is there some longstanding code shared by the female persuasion than they and only they understand?  Is that what the hieroglyphics were all about?  Good Lord!  Maybe I’ll never know.

Oh well.  I don’t even want to know anymore.  Go ahead and have your secret, fun little parties, ladies.  See if I care!

Just one more thing.  Queen Victoria.  Does she strike you as more of a latte or a cappuccino gal?





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Five strange things my wife really likes

As any married guy will tell you, wives are a weird bunch.  There are a million and one things that we’ll never understand about them.  And while all of them are downright wacky, I think maybe mine is one of the more rare breeds in the wifely world.  Here’s what I mean. Following is a list of five strange things my wife really likes:

  1.  A made-up bed.  Now surely I can’t be the only man on the planet who doesn’t quite get the logic here.  This same bed is only going to be messed up again in about 13 hours anyway, so what’s the point to this exercise?  Is there some random inspection coming that I’m not aware of?
  2. A perfectly clean, spotless floor.  We have four dogs (yeah, further proof that we’re nuts), and dogs shed.  Four dogs shed a lot.  Because of the dog issue, I kind of have a similar feeling with the floor that I do about the bed.  You see, my wife (aka she who must be obeyed) insists on vacuuming and/or mopping our floor at the first hint of dog hair or dirty paws.  Come on dear, can’t we just wait until the floor is good and dirty and completely covered with hair before we clean it? 
  3. Manicures.  I realize this applies to most, if not all, women.  I think from the age of 18 months, girls are taught that if their nails don’t look like they were just done within the last 3 days, then it’s already past time for a new coat of paint on those babies. But my better half just seems obsessed with perfection when it comes to her digits.  I think maybe she starts examining them at the 24 hour point.
  4. Popcorn….with the dog.  O.k., this one isn’t all that strange.  Everybody loves popcorn.  But it’s not just the popcorn for her.  No, it’s the entire process of fixing it and then filling the large, red bowl and laying back on the couch with one of our dogs fixed to her side, waiting for the accidental(?) drop of the occasional stray piece.  It seems to be a religious experience….for both of them.
  5. Me.  Alright, this one is completely understandable to anyone.  After all, I am adorable.
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My wife came back!

I know exactly what you’re thinking:  “Of course she did.  She’s such a wonderful person. And besides, she loves you too much to not come back!”  Whatever.  All I know is my wife came back.

Now, I know all of that is true, of course.  But I had my share of doubts over the past few days.  You know, she was in Colorado.  What if she felt that she loved the Rocky Mountains just a little bit more than she loves me.  Yeah, that’s right.  What if she saw the majesty of the Rockies and felt like she actually could do without the man she can’t do without?

Anyway, these are the kinds of thoughts that a lonely, sad, abandoned man has when he’s, well, lonely, sad, and abandoned.

Come to think of it, maybe she did fall hard for the Rockies but just couldn’t bring herself to tell me goodbye forever.  She’s thoughtful like that.


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When Will My Wife Come Back?

That might be a question lots of men ask themselves at various times in their marriages.  “When will my wife come back?”

That question, of course, can be asked in many different scenarios: 1. When will my wife come back….from the grocery store…..with the beer and the chips and salsa…..the game starts in an hour and I have friends coming over.  2. When will my wife come back?  You know, for those times when she’s “not herself” through no fault of her own.  You know, when she’s, um, you know, right?

Those are just a couple of examples of situations when that question might be asked by some hapless sap of a husband.

Unfortunately, I find myself in a much more serious, some would say tragic, situation.  She left me a couple days ago.  I know, that’s horrible.  But the worst part is that I have another 24 hours to get through before she will return to make my life make sense again.  Yeah, she took a long weekend to visit her son. What were you thinking was going on?

Anyway, until tomorrow, I remain on my own. By myself.  Just a lonely soul lost in the wilderness of suburbia.

If you’re a religious person, please say a prayer for me.  I still have to fix myself dinner tonight.

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The First Day Without My Wife

As you know if you are a regular reader of this blog (and, really, who the hell isn’t?), then you know that I have been abandoned by my wife.  Yep.  I’ve been left to my own devices for the next two and a half days.

Before you get too carried away with your inevitable name-calling and general spite for my wife, I should probably say that she deserves some credit for at least attempting to prepare me for my abandonment.

The woman who loves me more than life itself saw fit to prepare two days of lunches for me to finish out my work week.  Then, of course, there was the heroic moment when she reminded me (or was she teaching me) how to make a pot of coffee for myself in the morning.  As you can see, this is a woman who goes to the ends of the earth to make sure the man she loves does not want for anything.

Oh well.  I’ll get by somehow.  It’s certainly not my first rodeo when it comes to fending for myself.  It’s just that I never thought, in a million years, that the woman I can’t do without would choose to make me do without.

Alright, now commence with the name-calling.


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