There’s not much off limits for my blog, but there is one thing I leave off the table: direct conversations with my husband. Primarily because he is a private person and didn’t sign up for having his conversations published. He’d probably stop speaking to me if I wrote about them. Secondarily, particularly if we’re having a “discussion” about something, I think it is disrespectful to air those conversations publicly, and the one thing I try to do at all times (though I’m not always successful) is treat him respectfully. He deserves that.
The only reason I’m making an exception to the conversation rule this morning is because the conversation is not a dispute nor is it about any private matter of his or ours. It is, rather, pretty dang funny. Tuesday mornings, Bray and I are carpooling so the nanny can have the car to take our kids to school. Bray and I have quite different political opinions and we were listening to a political issue on the radio on the drive in. The conversation quickly veered to us each “offering” our political perspective on the issue. So as we near his office, after he’d given me a hard time about my political opinion and driving his truck (which I have, once, accidentally run into the parking garage), I said, “hey, you need to say something nice, my love language is words of affirmation.” (A while back we read this book called The Five Love Languages and we discovered, not surprisingly, that we have different love languages.) So this is what I got in response, “you look nice this morning….{pregnant pause}, you look like you’re going to a club.” What the what? At 8 in the morning driving to work? The shirt underneath my khaki blazer did have some sparkle on it, and I have to admit neither one of us have been out lately so the trend may be to the more conservative in the party hot spots, but I wouldn’t have spotted that one coming from a mile away. Note to self, don’t force a compliment before he’s finished his coffee. Well, really, don’t force a compliment. Period.
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