Well, here it goes.  A while ago David offered to set up a blog for me, and to be honest, I was bored with the idea at first.  But once I realized it could be an outlet to express my passions (cute shoes, jewelry, purses to die for) as well as to tell some of the stories I know that make people laugh, I decided to jump.  Just 8 short months after he offered, David delivered.  Here it is.  What do you think?

I don’t understand the difference yet between tags and categories or know how to include video clips, etc., so bear with me.  I’ll eventually figure it out (which is code for “I’ll make David do it”).

I’ve decided several of my more humorous experiences can easily be used as literal examples of cliche, so I have a category for that.  For instance, the phrase “the little woman” in this web address used to take me quickly to a point of indignation.  I needed to be my own woman, not be identified as “little” in relation to the significance of my spouse.  My disdain for the phrase (and all old-fashioned female sterotypes) was all the fuel my dad needed to tease and laugh at me.  No, it didn’t hurt my feelings; it was his way of saying “I love you”.  Come to think of it, maybe that’s why I like to tease so much.  Anyway, Gary Larson changed my opinion of that particular phrase with one of my favorite comics (by the funniest comic of all time), below:

After several years of marriage I don’t mind being thought of as David’s wife and many incredible things about him make it a priviledge to be his “little woman”.  Lots of girls would love to be in my shoes (see how I mentioned shoes there!  Gotta love shoes!).  It is a treasure beyond description to have someone know you as well as he knows me.  One night while I was about 7 months pregnant we were visiting my parents and I was helping my mother cook.  Now, normally my feet are ice cold, but you could have baked bread on them in those days, so needless to say I spent a lot of time out of my shoes then.  My tummy was sticking out so far that I was getting my shirt dirty, so my mother put an apron on me, which of course had to be tied above my baby pooch, making it look even bigger.  I walked into the living room where my dad and David were watching TV and waiting for dinner (a cliche in itself) and when David looked up and saw my big belly covered in that apron and bare feet below, he burst into laughter.  No words necessary; I was the incarnation of one of those sterotypes I hated so much.  I tried to defend myself and explain that my feet were unbearably hot, but the laughter was too loud.  And it was funny.

Sometimes we’ll see something ironic and just look at eachother, knowing we’re both thinking the same thing.  Every once in a while I’ll consider the side of me he nourishes and think what a different person I would be now if I had married someone who’s sense of humor was not so much like mine.  I used to have a “holier than thou” side (no, really, it used to be much worse!)  That doesn’t sound like any fun, so I think I’ll stick around.  Life is pretty good.  There are shoes to buy, purses to carry…a woman’s work is never done.

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 17th, 2008 at 1:57 pm and is filed under My life as a walking cliche. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.