It's time for another edition of the Insecure Writer's Support Group. Be sure to visit Alex J. Cavanaugh and the rest of the talented bloggers who are always willing to lend a helping hand.
Hubby's Selective Hearing Powers
My husband and I had to make some adjustments almost two years ago when we moved from our two-story family home to a small apartment. But I thought our close surroundings would make it easier for us to communicate.
Though I have the uncanny ability to be able to lie in bed and hear my husband enjoying a grape in the kitchen, he often doesn't hear me even when I'm standing right next to him. He has no desire to try a hearing aid, and often blames me for mumbling. Afterward when I intentionally mumble an unkind word or two about him, he has no trouble hearing that.
Fast forward to our Passover Seder on April 19th. My aunt and uncle hosted the holiday and generously asked my husband to lead the Seder. In all fairness, my husband was a huge help for the holidays. Not only did he do all of the shopping in preparation, but he even made the Charoset for the Seder plate.
Charoset is made from chopped nuts, grated apples, cinnamon and sweet red wine. It represents the mortar used by the Hebrew slaves to build the pyramids of Egypt.
My brother always volunteers to be in charge of the seating chart, and somehow he never fails to be surrounded by the same people on any given occasion. For example, whether it's my birthday or Mother's Day, you can always find him seated in between his biggest fans, my two sons.
Since I was not the official host of this holiday dinner, my brother followed my aunt's lead. However, once his nephews took their seats he quickly positioned himself next to them. Meanwhile, my husband and I were seated at the opposite end of the table with the other grownups.
At one point there were three distinct conversations going on simultaneously at the dinner table. Though I was seated at elbow's length from my husband, for some reason he didn't seem to hear me when I asked him to pass a heavy platter. Yet, he had no trouble hearing the conversation between my brother and son from clear across the table.
I tried asking again. This proved to be a waste of time, as my brother added a hilarious punchline to my son's story and now my husband was drowning in laughter. Of course the middle of the table had no idea what he was laughing at.
I couldn't take it anymore. Here I had done a lot of the cooking and I was asking for very little in return. Finally, I looked directly at my husband and bellowed, "What am I, chopped liver?"
Then he passed me the chopped liver. Unfortunately, we were eating dessert at the time.
