Marriage in Oxymoronica

IMG_0751by cheri block

I live with a logical man who speaks in logical vocabulary, thinks to himself logically, and espouses logical fact-based opinions often; that is, his posturing takes place about as often as I think intuitively, elliptically, and emotionally. He is the type of man you want when the ship is going down. I am the type of woman you want to party with. He is the type of man who others ascribe to emulate. I am the type of woman who others, well, who others look at with the big eyes waiting for someone to say, “Tag, you are it!!!” and run.

Occasionally we have role reversals. He takes a motorcycle safety course. He buys a lavender sweater. He puts on black leather flip-flops for the first time. I become indignant that there is a mistake on our tax return. I consult  an Atlas.

I register a big negative at the motorcycle safety course which seems to me an oxymoronic title. I buy more life insurance for him. I wonder if the flip-flops will hurt him between his toes and so it goes.

These two parallel cognitive universes have co-existed, co-habitated, and co-llided for over 40 years.

We have both practiced patience throughout that expanse of marital bliss and blissters; he, by knowing intuitively that he is right; I, by logically asserting my right to intuition.

Last night, we had a collision of sorts.

We’ve been on vacation for a number of days and arrived home to bills, the dog, weeds, the cat, and an empty refrigerator.

He enjoys himself on vacation having tropical drinks loaded with umbrella power and he orders dessert at every meal.

I show tremendous moderation and will-power on vacation, worrying that the scale will speak out loud when I return.

We returned. The scale, like the swaying palms which sound like rain when brushing each other, spoke.

Shock. We didn’t gain much weight. He is emotionally elated. I am factually concerned.

He, self-satisfied, drops into bed, not unlike a large cedar tree falling to earth.

The fact-based me lies there,  suspicious.

He rests his weary large limbs and is just about to drift into a deep compostian sleep when I observed, ” The scale is working perfectly; it’s just inaccurate.”

So much for the facts.

Advertisements

About Cheri

Writer, artist, cable television host, grandmother to four!
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

29 Responses to Marriage in Oxymoronica

  1. Christopher says:

    “……a deep compostian sleep……”

    Having never before encountered “compostian”, and having an acute inferiority complex about the paucity of my vocabulary, I enquired in Google as to what “compostian” means, but Google came up with nothing. This fascinating-sounding word doesn’t appear in my decades-old copy of The Concise Oxford Dictionary either.

    Does “compostian”, peradventure, come out of “compost”? So that a deep compostian sleep is a sleep so deep that the sleeper appears as animated as decayed organic material?

    • Cheri says:

      🙂
      Your definition of compostian is perfect. That is exactly what I meant when I coined the term “compostian.”

      • Don says:

        That is the essence of art. Your interesting word drew out of the observer a wonderfully covalent fellow-feeling, an ability to know, quite under the surface, what you really meant. And yes, covalent doesn’t really fit, but it came to mind, and who am I to argue with the boys in the basement? I’m an artist too, see.

        • Cheri says:

          I had to look covalent up. Since I earned a C in high school chemistry, I was in no condition to recall its meaning. I do remember electrons and atoms, however. 🙂

  2. Richard says:

    The picture has clarity and beauty. Much like the scales of justice and mercy. May there be many more years of balance and love.

  3. Could I buy your scale?

  4. Cyberquill says:

    Your scale is perfectly accurate, but Earth’s surface is known for its sudden gravity spikes, i.e., short periods when spacetime curves more strongly than at other times.

    What’s “compostian”?

    • Cheri says:

      Thanks for the scientific explanation. That appeals to my intuitive self.
      For a definition, see Christopher’s. He nailed it.

      • Cyberquill says:

        Ah, a Blockian neologism. Frankly, I also had to look up, albeit successfully, the phrase “Tag, you’re it!” See, when we played tag in Austria, it was always implicitly understood that the the person touched by the chaser was now “it” without having to be told. (Of course, I’m not saying that European kids are smarter than American kids. May the reader draw his or her own conclusions.)

  5. cpartner@comcast.net says:

    omg that was one of the best blogs so far…….thanks for sending! xoxox

    Cindy Block Usedom Cindy and Partners

    Cell: 510-501-4140 Office: 925-426-3760 http://www.cindyandpartners.com

  6. bogard says:

    Well, all I will ‘say’ about your post is: LMAO!!

  7. Brighid says:

    Wishing you many more years together! Oh, and I would like a scale like your’s. Good Karma!

  8. It is a truth that opposites do attract in a marriage. As you know I have been part of one for over 66 years!!

  9. Cheri says:

    They attract but how long do they last? That’s the challenge.

    • Don says:

      Either mine was composed of too much in the way of opposites, or too little, but the balance was not stable, and — Or maybe it is I that wasn’t stable. Or maybe it is The Other. No matter. I don’t admire long marriages but I do admire people who find they simply love one another too much to part for years and ever.

  10. David Li says:

    Storytelling, writing, people, and education. Great read and a great way to start the morning ,thanks!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s