The wedding is now less than two weeks away and my wife is
approaching critical mass about issues she considers herself responsible
for. I came home yesterday to find her a
quivering, stress filled mess as she’d spent a large portion of the day trying
to finalize her selections for the mother-son dance. She was frustrated by her lack of computer
expertise and her general lack of decisiveness.
This is usually where I step in (technologically a very
small pond, decisiveness less so).
This led a very frustrating hour on the I-Pad as she tried
to explain what she needed. The I-Pad
was not constructed with my less than nimble, large fingers in mind. This led to further stress which even the dog
picked up on. I was ready to consign the
damned thing to the third level of hell after a couple inadvertent
touches. It was obvious she (we) needed
a break after we reached a general consensus and luckily it was date night.
 |
| What Her I-Pad Almost Ended Up Looking Like |
Less than fortunate was the choice of movie, And So It Goes,
where Diane Keaton continued to cement her new found fame as an elder
hottie. This movie was just off. It didn’t have the sharp dialogue and subtle
humor I’ve come to expect from a Rob Reiner effort. I guess he went full meathead in choosing the
writing team for this.
Michael Douglas plays an aging widowed real estate agent who’s
a complete boor to everyone around him.
He has an unknown granddaughter thrust onto him which leads him to
Keaton. Douglas seems to have mailed
this in despite the fact his character must deal with a drug addict son,
something he has real world experience with.
Francis Sternhagen steals all her scenes as the elderly curmudgeon buddy
to Douglas. I’m guessing this was
supposed to be about finding meaning in life but it stayed to safely on the
surface.
 |
| The New Toy |
I continued my battle to rescue my wife’s shattered morale
by promising to set up and demonstrate how to use her new floor cleaning system
after the movie. It was fairly simple
and after I got started I didn’t want to stop, it was kind of fun (boys and
their toys kind of thang). I finished
the entire upstairs while she puttered around offering well meant (but less well
received) advice. As I put it away for
the night I realized she had somehow got me to do the work she had set for
herself to do. I had been “Tom Sawyered”! I’ve got to get a copy of that wife’s manual
on maneuvering husbands. She’s always a
step ahead of me.
No comments:
Post a Comment