Relationships are hard. Sometimes you can’t help looking at your partner and thinking, “You are an evil, selfish demon-man who should be thrown into a pit of hungry fire ants. You should be tied up and smeared with hot bikinni-wax and then introduced to an aesthetician named Helga the Hammer Hands. If there was a frying pan in my hand, I’d beat you like a 5-inch steak.” You know these thoughts, right?
Sam says that he can tell when I’m thinking like this and when it’s time for him to back away slowly. He says that my eyes get slitty and black like a snake’s and that I start growling in the back of my throat like a rabid dog.
Me: What time do you want to have dinner?
Him: <silence> (He’s too busy watching a movie to pay me any mind.)
Me: What <growl> Time <growl> Do You Want <growl> to Have Dinner?!?
Him: Would you look at the time? Gotta go…love you, babe.
This morning I left the house with a bee in my bonnet that was about the size of giant, killer, attack-bear. (Okay, I admit it. I was imagining a bear coming into the house and attacking Sam. Are you happy now?)
It was 8:30AM and I was late for a Bat Mitzvah. The entire car ride I thought about what it takes to be in a good relationship. As I sat in the temple, words that I couldn’t understand floated above me, into the ceiling, and towards the heavens. A minute later dozens of people beat their tongues and made a high-pitched noise that reminded me of Bedouins screaming across the desert. As I heard it, I imagined God smiling. LalaLalaLaLalaLalaLa. It’s a fantastic noise – happy, energetic, empowering, and just a little it crazy.
LalaLalaLaLalaLalaLa – take out the trash and put down the toilet seat!
LalaLalaLaLalaLalaLa – wash your dirty dishes and get rid of those old magazines!
A young girl walks to the microphone. I get excited because she begins speaking in English. She talks about what she thinks God expects of her after her Bat Mitzvah. She says things like patience, generosity, kindness towards others, and strength. Everyone makes the noise again. LalaLalaLaLalaLalaLa.
I smile and promise God not to kill Sam. It’s not his fault that he always leaves his dirty dishes in the sink…. LalaLalaLaLalaLalaLa. I need to have more patience. It’s not Sam’s fault that he reads magazines by the bushel load and leaves them all over the place. I need to be more generous. It’s not Sam’s fault that I fall into a bowl of water when he leaves the toilet seat up. I need to show more kindness towards others. And it’s not Sam’s fault that I can’t stand how messy his man closet it. I need to have more strength.
God and I shake on it. LalaLalaLaLalaLalaLa!!!
(note: at the time of this blog, one Sammy Davis Junior aka Salty Ham Sam is straightening up his man closet after having washed the dishes and taken out the trash. Thank you, God! LalaLalaLaLalaLalaLa.)