Fandango’s Provocative Question: 7/29/21


Do you feel that people are more attracted to one another by their differences or by their commonalities? And why do you feel that way?

There are so many dynamics in this one! Bravo Fandango! For your provocative question and for drowning me in my own thought analysis. lol

The question specifically asks “attracted to” and I would say our differences offer the first allure because of curiosity and novelty.
I’ve noticed that many relationships are set up according to perceived strengths too. Each partner assumes ‘duties’ according to what he/she seems to be ‘good’ at. There are the finance managers, cooks, home maintenance, and scheduling managers, but also, there are the worriers, optimists, writers, decorators, and romantics. (To name only a few.) Interestingly, they don’t always fall along traditional gender lines either.

Yet, differences aren’t the ‘glue’ to relationship longevity. Similarities are. Specifically, those that encompass values, tradition, and goals. They don’t need to be identical, and rarely are, because every individual is a perfectly unique being BUT they have to be within the same ‘genre’. If one partner wants children and the other doesn’t or one partner envisions world travel as a goal and the other wants to homestead off of the grid, SORRY. Unless lightening strikes, somebody is going to be miserable!
Miserable is a condition more likely to land the relationship’s story on Investigation Discovery than the Hallmark Channel. 😀

I could go on but the last sentence seemed a perfect place to leave you. LOL

Fandango’s Provocative Question #128 – This, That, and The Other (

My Handle on Anger

I don’t like feeling angry. It is an emotion that I have suppressed for most of my life. It sounds as though I think it has no value. It does. Problem is, I am unfamiliar with how to manage it.

I’m reminded of a scene from the Honeymooners. Ralph and Alice are arguing, as usual, about their finances. Ralph accuses Alice of not being able to handle money. Her brilliant reply:

“Of course I don’t, I’ve never had any practice!”

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling about anger. Once released, though, it inwardly consumes me. Watching a Dirty Harry movie used to do the trick. I’d grit my teeth right along with Clint Eastwood as he squeezed the trigger. That “punk” was the embodiment of all the wrongs I had felt.

As a woman, my days are filled with tiny sacrifices. Martyrdom is not what this is about. I am very happy to create happiness and contentment, when I am able, but those little sacrifices serve as gasoline on my fire once anger comes out to play. It’s not important to list every single sacrifice. All you need to know is every single decision has a “pecking order” and I’m always last on the list. I KNOW…I don’t need to put myself there.

I care for kids…demanding little angels who are good reasons for some of my sacrifice. Believe me, I have a favorite comment for those who demand too much, too soon. “Do I look like I’m busy?” The problem with that statement is all too clear when I try to relax. “You don’t look busy now?” is what I will be reminded. And, the demand, although not granted every time, still rests on my shoulders as a demand.

Still, that alone does not anger me. But, with the daily demands ever fresh, my family comes home. Not only do I mange kids, I am command central for the family. “Any messages or phone calls?” “Where’s my blue jacket?” “When’s supper?” …you get the picture.

By day’s end, I have a goal, a picture in my head, of me with a book on my couch. I hang on to that picture. The phone may ring…the dog needs to go out and in and out…I may finally sit down and feel sweet release only to notice I have misplaced my glasses OR that the kids have found a unique place for them. All this, I assure you, I can handle.

Then, my husband turns on the TV. He skips from one political propaganda station to the next. A commercial for the ASPCA comes on. I try not to listen but I cannot completely tune it all out. NOW, I’m angry!

It wasn’t one single event but the sum total.

I guess the part that is so sad is that I don’t show it. But lately, there is so much buried that there’s no room for more. I won’t ever take it out on the kids or dog. I’m tempted to take the batteries out of the TV remote though.

I feel better now. Just from the release of my anger in writing. I don’t like to feel angry. I am a very tolerant person. But, if you feel the need to cross me, there’s a poignant question you should ask yourself:

Do you feel lucky PUNK?

Random Word Story #21~Marriage is Served

Insecurity by zummi
Insecurity by zummi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Random words generated by

One set of words used to create a spontaneous story.

soldier…eyebrow…hot plate…medal…appetite…pub

Here is my story:

Living with mental illness was not his problem but dealing with it was. David kept wondering if HE were the problem? Of course, then he could fix himself. Really? Did he have to be the one who always made amends and emotionally support Jen? This was the first time that he even wondered if her paranoia was “catchy”.

With much guilt, he’d considered if he had married the wrong woman on countless occasions. She’d made him laugh and had that playful wit and was “easy on the eyes” too. But after 30 years of marriage, he was tired of being the brave little soldier. His medal of honor for staying married had no sparkle, faded color and he wondered if there was even such an honor. When staying married is a choice, not a vision, how long could he endure?

The pub gave him a temporary reprieve but also served as an irritant. He’d return to a dark house, even if it really wasn’t late at all. Jen would have turned in and left him a meal beside the hot plate.

Was HE crazy or was the dark house a signal…his punishment for having a “life” in spite of Jen? It wasn’t only the cold homecoming, but the irritated swipes for the next few days. An eyebrow raised when she’d ask, ” Did you have fun with YOUR friends?”

Jen could convince him that he’d done something wrong any time he questioned her motives, her reasons and once-in-a-while her mental health.

“No one is perfect.” He rationalized. “Maybe I could give up my pub visits and all would be fine. Maybe I could support her more…”

He was at a loss. Everything that he might enjoy was threatened by Jen’s insecurity.

Ha, was he really qualified to tell someone that they were insecure? Maybe he WAS the problem?

David was a fair, likable sort who didn’t much like feeling caged. But he didn’t like the feeling that there must be a “menu” somewhere that could serve up just the right condiments to make this marriage happier.

David was also not a quitter. He would keep giving and apologizing for awhile more while searching for that magical meal. But frankly, he was losing his appetite.

Cousins~ Poem #4 NaPoWriMo

A cousin is a precious gift,

 A part of time and space.

Don’t need to hear “I love you.”

Can see it in her face.


We share a common ancestry,

Belonging to one place.

An extra little something,

A bond that we embrace


One day we’ll find this photo,

Within life’s tattered lace.

I’ll look you up and share once more,

What time cannot erase.


A photo, that I took, of my granddaughter (on the right) with her cousin Madison.