I've been in the mood lately. A very domestic mood. But, don't tell the Wonder Husband. I really like him thinking that it's not my A-game. A woman is not as interesting as when she veils herself in a little mystery. Some women hide their shopping addictions, proclivities for ecstatic substances or sexual fantasies. Me? I hide my Martha Stewart moments.
I go in and out of domesticity like most people go in and out of bad moods. Don't get me wrong, after over 30 years of marriage, the Wonder Husband knows that I'm adept at making home and hearth. I just don't want him expecting it on a regular basis. Fix dinner? Not tonight, honey...I have a headache.
The truth is that there are times I really enjoy a good house cleaning rout or a day long, cooking extravaganza. But, just as often, I enjoy getting out in the world and knocking down some mega bucks. Or being the accountant and bookkeeper for both of our businesses. Or spending the day writing and living in a fantasy world of my making. Or maybe I need to get a massage, a pedicure, my hair done and an eye brow wax. I'm learning that a good brow shaping and the plucking of a few rebellious, downward growing, brow hairs can erase years. So it is with domesticity. After all, I am in my maintenance years and need to gain every advantage I can in every area I can.
I think it's good for a woman to keep herself from getting pigeon-holed into any particular role. I mean, I've been studying men for years and they are quixotic and hard to pin down. And now I know why. It can definitely be an advantage to the game of love. As a young wife, I was eager to be seen as a good home maker. I grew up in a generation that was infected with the tainted archetype of Donna Reed, the perfect wife. As a seasoned wife, I'm inoculating myself against that virus. No longer craving adulations for my culinary and domestic coups, I prefer to bask in anonymity.
So, that's why I'm sitting here seriously considering buying some take out containers and using them to present this beautiful meal I've prepared. Shh, mums the word. There'll be no tattling to the Wonder Husband about my tasty, little deception. Thankfully, he only sneaks over and reads my blog once in a while. Oh, yeah, and I can always tell he's been here by the little words he lets slip. He has his secrets, I have mine.
I go in and out of domesticity like most people go in and out of bad moods. Don't get me wrong, after over 30 years of marriage, the Wonder Husband knows that I'm adept at making home and hearth. I just don't want him expecting it on a regular basis. Fix dinner? Not tonight, honey...I have a headache.
The truth is that there are times I really enjoy a good house cleaning rout or a day long, cooking extravaganza. But, just as often, I enjoy getting out in the world and knocking down some mega bucks. Or being the accountant and bookkeeper for both of our businesses. Or spending the day writing and living in a fantasy world of my making. Or maybe I need to get a massage, a pedicure, my hair done and an eye brow wax. I'm learning that a good brow shaping and the plucking of a few rebellious, downward growing, brow hairs can erase years. So it is with domesticity. After all, I am in my maintenance years and need to gain every advantage I can in every area I can.
I think it's good for a woman to keep herself from getting pigeon-holed into any particular role. I mean, I've been studying men for years and they are quixotic and hard to pin down. And now I know why. It can definitely be an advantage to the game of love. As a young wife, I was eager to be seen as a good home maker. I grew up in a generation that was infected with the tainted archetype of Donna Reed, the perfect wife. As a seasoned wife, I'm inoculating myself against that virus. No longer craving adulations for my culinary and domestic coups, I prefer to bask in anonymity.
So, that's why I'm sitting here seriously considering buying some take out containers and using them to present this beautiful meal I've prepared. Shh, mums the word. There'll be no tattling to the Wonder Husband about my tasty, little deception. Thankfully, he only sneaks over and reads my blog once in a while. Oh, yeah, and I can always tell he's been here by the little words he lets slip. He has his secrets, I have mine.
