What does my honey do when we quarrel?

So I told you the other day me and La Sooze watched this W. Somerset Maugham movie, right? Well ol' W. Somerset, was of course, a snooty British guy who could write like an angel but he had that sort of blue-blood sniff, sniff language going on so that even if you had never seen his face you knew what he looked like and would picture him wearing a wool suit with a cravat and sticking his pinky out while he drank imported something or other. Anyway in this movie one of the stories was about a guy who was obsessed with building and flying kites and he marries this kind of common woman who thinks he's a complete jerk-off because she thinks kites are for faggots and children. So they have a big fight and she chucks him out of their apartment. Their "flat" in Great Britain.  Well actually they don't fight, they "quarrel." That's how they say it. The guy goes home to his parents and says he and the Mrs. have "quarreled." And he says to the wife "I don't want to quarrel about this." Me and La Sooze, who rarely quarrel since i stopped drinking 20 plus cans of beer a day, both immediately agreed while watching this film that we would adopt that word now for those rare instances when we do have a minor misunderstanding. I mean "quarrel" just sounds so much more refined and mannered than my usual description of these times which would be that we "went 12 rounds like Ali and Frazier" or that we "beat the living shit out of each other."  No, in honor of W. Somerset we will now "quarrel" and then we will have a little spot of tea and some crumpets and kiss each other on the cheek and make-up.

Speaking of language I heard some guy the other day say that over the previous weekend he had done "honey do" chores which means he was doing stuff around the house that he apparently didn't want to do but his wife made him do it. But as this ridiculous and puerile phrase tumbled out of this guy's mouth i suddenly realized what a terrible thing this was to say, and thus hated that phrase more than i did before, which was a lot. I mean, before i always thought it was like one of those stupid things guys say, like i picture a salesman in a plaid suit coat who says this kind of trite crap at work  like "hey you working hard or hardly working?" Shut-up, right now. Never say that again. But when you break this out, as i did in the few brief moments that i actually thought about this queer statement the other day, I realized that it was pretty sexist stuff and did not say a whole lot about the guy's wife or himself  (Perhaps, of course he's gay and so I will include his significant other here in my rambling as well). I mean it really hints strongly that this guy would have preferred to walk around his house all weekend with one hand jammed inside his boxers entertaining the boys, or lie on the couch with his socks on. But no, this bitch of a mate was making him do stuff that he had no absolutely no heart for, hanging curtains or trimming shrubs. I don't mean to be all Obama here, all politically correct, because that kind of don't-offend-anyone crap is more hideous than saying "Honey do list." It's just that, y'know i, like all males, have had my times when i have said stupid things and realized that I was falling into that man trap of being one of the guys, and i really make an effort not to do that or say those things anymore. I mean why would I disrespect my wife? La Sooze is not only my chosen one and soul partner, she is the mother of my children and my true life love. So why would I lump that same person in with the phrase "honey do." Ew. Anyway, as you know this past weekend i spent an hour or so of my precious remaining time on this earth cleaning out our fabulous garage. I must admit in the spirit of full disclosure that this was done at the request of La Sooze who carries with her a mental "To Do" list at all times. One of her great traits, though, is that if La Sooze has 100 things on that list she will personally do 99 of them and do them a million times better than i ever could anyway. So if she envisioned a clean garage and I could contribute to that why wouldn't i? I mean this is a woman who has tolerated more than her fair share of bullshit from me. Anyway, suffice to say that while i would never use the phrase "honey do list" anyway it is now completely stricken from my vocab. If I do stuff at home at the behest of my lovely wife it is with love that i perform such duties. And besides, today i came home from another desperately useless day at work and the automatic garage door opened automatically and what did i see but a very clean and organized garage. And I thought - thanks la Sooze, thanks honey.

Couple of quick items before i go. First. I have spent the past hour or so, and many hours yesterday, continuing to work on my quest to get Little kev focused on going to college. i am now filling out applications and researching majors and peppering kev with questions about locations and majors and school size and his thoughts on co-ed vs. all-male dorms. Anyway I was thinking today that this is the third time I have been through this college search thing and I don't why i have not written a book about it. I have actually read, or at least perused, several of these "how to help your kid get in college" books and while they all have some usefulness none of them seem to nail it. What I have learned after 'lo these many essays and applications is this: that unless your child is super extra special, chances are that at the age of 17 they do not know jack shit about who they are or what they want to do with their lives. In fact, i daresay the majority of next year's college freshman are right this moment on couches all over this great country of ours grasping PS3 video game controllers and killing enemies on-line in Call of Duty Modern Warfare. That is where i would be if i could. Anyway that's where my book would start. it would say that unless your child is right this minute reading Dante's Inferno for sheer pleasure, you had better follow my lead and start researching colleges for them. Otherwise you are raising another member of the generation of swine, and you will have to eventually finish your basement so they can have a place to live. 

Finally i must get back to this: The Yankees won last night and are now in the World Series. Admittedly, because of this, i had a little hop in my step this morning when i got up. Of course I had promised myself yesterday that I would not watch the game but but i did, every last pitch from the fourth inning on and then stayed tuned-in to the champagne popping and the clichéd sports interviews and the whole damned thing. Loved every minute of it. It is worth losing a couple of hours of sleep for my beloved Yankees. Anyway, anyone who is a sports fan knows how terrific the feeling is when your team is on a run through the playoffs and the tension peaks and builds and peaks and builds, terrific stuff, like a drug, really. Now I have two days to forget about baseball before the Series starts Wednesday and then i will be completely obsessed and pacing the floors and ignoring the tv again and trying to decide if it is good or bad luck to wear my Yankee hat or not.Great stuff. this is what sports is about really, a wonderful distraction, a union with a team and a city that is beyond just scores, it is a connection to the very soul of your little internal self. It is a part of who your are. So no more baseball until Wednesday, i promise. meanwhile, I am checking out the website for Emerson University in Boston, a great liberal arts school Kev is considering applying to, and don't you know I just discovered they have a Division III men's basketball team. All I can say is - go Lions!