Arcane Facts Exposed

Someone recently emailed me a list of facts with the title: “So You Think You Know Everything.” My first reaction was: “I used to think I knew a lot. Maybe not everything, but a lot. The older I get, the more I feel like I’m barely getting by.” So of course, I had to read the entire list of perhaps 40 factoids. Some of them were an absolute yawn, but many of them were quite interesting. Especially the ones about animals.

For instance, a cat has 32 muscles in each ear. Also, cats have over one hundred vocal sounds, while dogs have about 10. I have no idea what to do with this information, but since I’m sure most of you reading this have either a cat or a dog, I thought I’d share.

As I read some of the more unusual data, I found myself making comparisons to my husband. The fact that a goldfish has a memory span of three seconds evoked this thought: “Cross one with my husband, and you’ll get a memory span of about two seconds.” And after reading that a snail can sleep for three years: “Cross one with my husband and you get something that can sleep for four years.” Oh, stop feeling so sorry for him. He’s used to this.

Getting more generic about our spouses, did you know that in the last 4,000 years, no new animals have been domesticated—including husbands? And while we’re on the subject of conjugal partners, the fact that there are more chickens than people in the world made me wonder: “What about rabbits?” Everyone knows what happens when you leave a male and a female rabbit alone in a cage for five minutes. Remember the old joke, boy rabbit to girl rabbit: “It won’t hurt, did it?”

I’ve always been fascinated with language, and a lot of these arcane facts are on that topic. I never knew that a “jiffy” is an actual unit of time; it’s 1/100^th of a second. I wonder why we never hear sportscasters at the Olympics telling us that the person who came in second missed gold by just two jiffies.

There are only four words in the English language that end in “dous.” Those are: tremendous, horrendous, stupendous and hazardous. So why is it that it seemed like every fourth word Donald Trump spoke at any of his rallies ended in “dous”?

Here’s something I always wondered about: Using only one hand, what’s the longest word you can type with each of them? With the left it’s “stewardesses” and with the right it’s “lollipop.” This fact is obviously based on an old-fashioned typewriter keyboard, not texting. I’m still waiting to find out what the longest word is that you can text with your nose.

Not surprisingly, there were many interesting tidbits in the science category. Women blink nearly twice as much as men. And as any photographer can tell you, Elaine blinks three times as much as the average woman. People actually called me “Blinky.” I’m a real challenge in group photos.

This one grossed me out. Your stomach has to produce a new layer of mucous every two weeks or else it will digest itself. Eeww! Thank heaven for post nasal drip.

For trivia buffs, if the population of China walked past you single file, the line would never end, because of the rate of reproduction there. To which I am compelled to add: it’s the same for those horny rabbits.

Lastly in the science area, something I was grateful to learn. It’s impossible to sneeze with your eyes open. At least now I can stop trying to do that while I’m driving. Seriously.

There were only a handful of interesting facts having to do with math. This one caught my attention. There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar. I leave you with this added caveat: until the penny is retired (which is being seriously considered). Then what? You might want to figure that out while you’re waiting at red lights, where Americans spend an average of six months. I assume that’s in a lifetime. Or maybe in a Manhattan decade. Either way, happy counting!

His and Hers Tombstones

On a recent drive back from a restaurant where the meal had been a disappointment, my husband apologized to me even though the food choice had been mine. I told him: “You’re always so willing to take the blame.” He said: “If I weren’t planning on being cremated, that’s what I would want on my tombstone.” I laughed. “Yes, yours should read: I was willing to take the blame. And then mine would read: Because he was always wrong.” That kept us laughing most of the way home.

This gave me the idea that husbands and wives should plan their paired tombstone messages well in advance. Here are some combinations that I’ve come up with.

Hers: But I wasn’t finished…

His: She was never finished.

Hers: Does this headstone make me look fat?

His: Not if you stay below ground.

(Think about that one awhile.)

His: Snored like a woodcutter.

Hers: Buried with earplugs, just in case.

His: Her cooking killed me.

Hers: Technically, it was my skillet. (He should have ducked.)

Hers: Are you listening?

His: Were you talking to me?

His: My work here is done.

Hers: His work never started. Mine never ended.

His: Gone too soon.

Hers: It depends on whom you ask.

Hers: I told you I was sick.

His: Every day for forty-five years.

Hers: Going out in style.

His: You’re wearing that for eternity?

Hers: He always made me laugh.

His: That wasn’t the plan.

Hers: The fun is over.

His: It never started.

His: I’m sorry.

Hers: He should be.

Hers: You can take the girl out of New Jersey, but…

His: Just put her back when you’re done.

(Think about that for a minute…)

Hers: Beloved wife and mother.

His: If you say so, dear.

I could keep going, but I’ll let you have some fun with this on your own.

Approaching Singularity

You’ve probably seen those photo spreads of people who resemble their dogs. The owners often look like caricatures of their pets, or vice versa. Deeply furrowed brows, pendulously droopy ears and lobes, broad fleshy nostrils. The resemblance can be so uncanny you’re sure that one (or both) of the photos has been retouched. This man-dog study is less often presented in a husband-wife format. Couples who have lived together for a long time similarly begin to share each other’s features.

On my husband Jagdish’s and my 25^th anniversary trip, I began to realize that facial contours are not the only thing couples synchronize as they age. My “aha” moment, which I’ll share in a minute, reminded me of some studies that document another synchronization of cohabiters.

Groups of young women who live together have been shown to migrate to common monthly cycles—that of the alpha female. I had a friend who put so much credence in this that she became obsessed with being the woman whose cycle everyone else unwittingly adopted.

Getting back to my recent “aha” moment. My husband and I have reached that age where we generally get up once or twice a night to use the facilities. At home, I’m not usually aware of his middle-of-the-night comings and goings. For one thing, Jagdish often comes to bed quite a bit later than I do. For another, we use separate bathrooms.

When we travel, all of this changes. We almost always retire at the same time and we rarely have two bathrooms. Which is how it finally dawned on me: 25 years of marriage is apparently enough time for a husband and wife to synchronize their nighttime pee schedule. I have no idea whose timing we’ve settled on, though most who know us would assume I’m the alpha in the household. For Jagdish's sake, I hope he doesn't start sharing my hot flashes at four am.

Once I got this notion in my brain, I started to wonder: “In what other ways have we become eerily alike?” The next time I heard my husband clipping his toenails, I furtively glanced at the big digit on my right foot. The nail was quite long in the tooth, but I convinced myself I had at least a week before it would require attention.

A few days later, I found myself measuring my earlobes in the bathroom mirror. I may have shrunk an inch and a half in height over two years, but I’m certain my lobes are getting longer. Come to think of it, they remind me an awful lot of my husband’s. Please, Lord, don’t let me start growing hair in those canals and have to trim it like he does.

Jagdish is charming and lovable, but I have no desire to approach singularity with the schedules of his various bodily functions. Consider for instance his snoring. It usually starts three to four hours into his sleep cycle. I’ve taken to using earplugs even when I go to bed ahead of him.

On our anniversary trip, at the hotel in Agra, I woke up in the middle of the night. I was aware that someone’s snoring had roused me, despite my earplugs. I was about to give Jagdish an elbow to wake him up, but to my horror, I realized it was my own snoring that was rumbling inside my head. I made a mental note to get my husband some earplugs when we returned home.

I shudder to think of what other synchronization awaits us in the years ahead. Seriously. What woman wants to admit that she’s become so old and so much of a caricature that the face she sees in the mirror each morning is no longer her own? It’s her partner’s.

Spousal Uses

My “Spousal Excuses” post elicited some interesting responses, not the least of which was one from my husband. Jagdish asked me to make a list of the things I’d like him to do around the house. I’ll gladly comply, and I already told him the first item on that list: Take care of the chores on it without my having to keep reminding him.

I guess he realized that my frustration has been growing geometrically since we moved into our condo. Maybe he asked for a “honey do” list so that the “ex” in the title of my previous post wouldn’t migrate over one word from “excuses” to become “ex-spousal.” To put him at ease, I decided to delete the “ex” altogether and focus this post on “Spousal Uses.” Which brings me back to the list.

A few of the tasks were no-brainers (put out the trash, wash the dishes when I’ve prepared the meal). But this provided a good opportunity to consider what else I could use help with. I immediately put him in charge of adding salt to the water softener and changing the furnace filter. These are both on about a 3-month schedule. They’re tedious work, but not physically demanding, since I’ll carry the bags of salt to the basement. (He has too many stents around his heart to lift anything that heavy.)

The prospect of actually getting help around the house was liberating. A few hours later I came up with another item with which Jagdish could be useful. First, some backstory. I don’t put on make-up every day, only when I have a meeting. Most of what I use goes around my eyes. When I’m done, I put on my glasses to look for smudges and errant strokes that need to be removed.

On this particular day, those glasses also magnified the stubble on my lower legs. Since I planned to wear a knee-length dress, I needed to shave. I’d already showered, so I decided to use the sink for the shaving. As I hiked one leg up, I almost lost my balance. (Yet another complication of shrinking 1 ½ inches in two years.) It dawned on me that here was one more use for my spouse.

I called to Jagdish that I needed his help. I had him stand behind me, steadying my hips so I didn’t fall over. “See?” I said, when I was done. “There are all sorts of things you can help with around here!”

My husband has been wedded to his computer since we left Providence. He’s become an expert buyer for his store. He reminds me of my friend Sheryl, whom we lost seven years ago. Sheryl knew where to get anything at the best price and on the best terms. She found things the old fashioned way—by phone and through networking and as she was driving around on errands. Jagdish uses modern technology. I should tap into his Internet browsing skills for our house. Note to self: Start a “to buy” list for Jagdish.

He also has a fancy (and smart) iPhone. There must be some things he can use it for that will be helpful to me, since I still have a dumb, flip phone. Perhaps there’s a lullaby app to play music that will mask his snoring. To be fair, he’s been snoring a lot less lately. Maybe it’s all that fresh air coming up from the river and drifting across the golf course.

Here’s something you probably never thought of. It came to me when I heard a comment on The View. (Yes, I’m watching that show more often now that Joy Behar is back as a co-host.) The women were discussing Spanx. Apparently some of them wear multiple layers of this popular shapewear. One of them said that Spanx cause a problem, because the fat they push in on one area of your body has to pop out somewhere else. I gave this a mental head nod. OK. I actually nodded my head vigorously.

The solution came to me in a flash. I don’t wear my Spanx very often, but the next time I do, I’m going to make sure Jagdish is handy. I’ll have him push the fat back in wherever it pops out. Of course, with the condition my body is in right now, this will be a bit like playing whack-a-mole, but a girl’s gotta try. If Jagdish can accomplish that task, he’ll never have to worry about any floating “ex” in my blog titles. I might even take over filling the water softener again.

More Spousal Communication

A recent blog post provided an explanation of how spouses miscommunicate. Several of the comments I received presented reasons for miscommunication that I had missed. My friend Mary pointed out that when folks have been together many years, one of them assumes that the other one has become a mind reader. That hit especially close to home in our household. Today’s post explores this issue from a slightly different angle.

When my husband wants a favor, he rarely asks for it directly. Rather, he makes a vague statement and hopes the person to whom he’s speaking will figure out what he’d like them to do. Eventually, I came to see this as his style of communication, but I used to think he didn’t want to be beholden in any way. By not actually asking for the favor, he wouldn’t feel he received one. I found this manipulative and annoying. I tried to force him to be more direct by saying: “And I’m supposed to do what with this information?”

That rarely prompted him to actually ask for help. Over time, my response progressed to a snarky: “And I’m supposed to care about this why?” More often than not, I ended by performing the expected service, accompanied by heavy sighing, the loud banging of pots and the slamming of cabinet doors.

If you’re having trouble following this, here’s an example. My husband says: “I wonder if the box of green tea is empty.” He knows full well that it’s empty, because he used the last bag the previous night. What he really means is: “Do we have more green tea somewhere? If so, dig it out and make me a cup. If we don’t have any more green tea, make me a cup of whatever is closest, and be sure to put green tea on the shopping list.”

Recently I decided to fight fire with fire. I would communicate with my husband the same way he communicates with me. It should come as no surprise that I did not get my desired outcome when I presented him with a vague statement. I then progressed along a scale of communication, gradually getting more specific and more direct. Today’s post explains that scale, with several examples to illustrate the progression. See if you recognize where your spouse sits on the scale. At what point are you generally successful in getting the outcome you desire?

SCALE OF SPOUSAL COMMUNICATION METHODS

1.     Vague description of the condition or situation.

2.     More detailed representation of the condition or situation.

3.     Statement of desired outcome.

4.     Polite request to perform the task.

5.     Outright threat of dire consequences if he doesn’t do it.

Here are some examples.

I want my husband to turn on Meet the Press on TV. This is the progression of how I would try to make it happen, beginning with his own style.

1.     It’s Sunday morning.

2.     Meet the Press should be good this week.

3.     I’d like to watch Meet the Press today.

4.     Will you please turn on Meet the Press?

5.     If you don’t go get the clicker and turn on Meet the Press, I’m not going to make you breakfast. Ever again.

In this example, the desired outcome is to have the trash emptied and put out for weekly pickup.

1.     I just realized that tomorrow is Monday.

2.     The trash bin is overflowing.

3.     The trash needs to go out tonight.

4.     Will you empty the trash and put the bin at the curb for pickup?

5.     I’m tired of reminding you about the trash every week. If you don’t take care of it right now, I’m going to empty the bin onto your laptop.

How about getting him to bring his laundry to the laundry room?

1.     Your underwear drawer must be almost empty.

2.     I bet you have a ton of dirty clothes in your hamper.

3.     I plan to do laundry this morning.

4.     Please bring your dirty clothes to the laundry room.

5.     Empty your hamper or I’m going to cut the toes out of every pair of socks that you own.

Investigating strange noises in the middle of the night?

1.     Did you hear something?

2.     I wonder what that sound is coming from the kitchen.

3.     I think I hear water running in the kitchen.

4.     Will you get up and see if you left the water running in the kitchen sink?

5.     If I have to get up to check the kitchen faucet, I’m going to fill a pitcher with ice water and pour it on your head.

For most things that he wants, my husband is adept at getting his desired outcome without having to progress beyond level two. I’m stuck between levels four and five most of the time. There is no justice in this world.

Spousal Miscommunication

Now that my husband and I have retired to our condo, we’re spending a lot more time together. This has made me realize that I’m having increasing difficulty understanding what he’s saying to me. This may have always been a problem, but I just didn’t notice it because we spent so little time together. I assume that age plays a role. Whatever the reason for this spousal miscommunication, I’ve now categorized and charted the condition. See which types you recognize in your own relationships.

HOW YOU HEAR AND LISTEN—MAIN CATEGORIES

A.     You hear and understand everything that is said       10%

B.     You don’t hear at all                                                              25%

C.     You mishear what is said                                                     30%

D.    What he says doesn’t make sense                                     23%

E.     What he says isn’t what he means                                    12%

SUBCATEGORIES OF MISCOMMUNICATION

 

Why You Don’t Hear At All

A.     You’re watching TV                                                                20%

B.     You’re on your computer                                                      32%

C.     You’re reading a book/magazine                                        20%

D.    You’re going through the mail                                                8%

E.     You’re taking a nap                                                                    5%

F.     You’ve had 2 glasses of wine                                                 15%

Why You Mishear What Is Said

A.     He has food in his mouth                                                         15%

B.     He’s muttering into his chest                                                  25%

C.     He has chin in hand, which is covering his mouth            20%

D.    He has his back to you and has water running                   30%

E.     He’s in another room and thinks you’re there, too           10%

Why What He Says Doesn’t Make Sense

A.     He’s reading from a webpage and mispronouncing things  35%

B.     He’s changed the subject in the middle of a sentence            25%

C.     You’re in bed and you have earplugs in                                         8%

D.    He’s tired and he’s speaking Hindi                                               10%

E.     You’ve had 3 glasses of wine                                                          22%

Why What He Says Isn’t What He Means

A.     He’s using indefinite antecedents again (Which “he”? Who “they”?) 30%

B.     He has confused the time sequence of events                                  25%

C.     He has used one of his classic malapropisms                                   22%

D.    He doesn’t actually know what he means                                          15%

E.     He’s had just one sip of your wine                                                         8%

Retirement Reflections — Why I Love College Reunions

Last weekend I celebrated my 45^th college reunion with more than 100 classmates and their spouses/partners. I’m sharing here some of the reasons why I love going to these reunions. My alma mater is unusual in that alumni march in the graduation procession along with the administration, faculty, graduating seniors and advanced degree candidates. The atmosphere is electric and it is foreshadowed by an incredible camaraderie all weekend long.

I love these reunions not just because I get to catch up with friends from my time on campus, but also because I get to connect with classmates I knew only casually during my undergraduate years. Over time, I’ve become as close with many of the new friends that I see again every five years as I am with the ones I made over 45 years ago. Sadly, at this reunion we learned more about some of our classmates’ lives posthumously. No doubt this will become even more of a theme at future reunions.

Here are some of the reasons I enjoyed being part of my reunion last weekend.

One of my classmates who has chosen not to retire yet gave these reasons (paraphrased somewhat.) I love my work. I’m at the top of my game and I’m well respected. I’m known as the go-to guy in my field. How inspiring to hear that from someone in his mid-sixties. A tip of my pen, “And here’s to you, Mr. Robinson, wo wo wo. Coo coo ca-choo, Mr. Robinson!”

I was a scholarship student, so the university’s Annual Fund has a special place in my heart. I’m a co-chair of our Reunion Gift Committee. At Friday’s dinner, I reported on the status of our fundraising and made a pitch for support from those who were still on the sidelines. We needed just 58 more donors to reach our participation goal, and about $16,000 to reach a five-year comprehensive giving total of five million dollars.

One of my fellow co-chairs came forward with this offer: for each new donor who made a gift during reunion, she’ll add an extra ten dollars to the gift she’s already made. Then one of the men in our class made an even greater challenge. He’ll increase his own gift and match new and increased contributions made during reunion in order to get our class to five million dollars. What generosity of spirit by both of them! The dust hasn’t settled, but there’s money coming in because of them.

Another classmate’s second husband was considerably older than she (like mine is). She’s been widowed for some time. She heard me say that my husband has many stents in his arteries. She quietly took me aside and counseled me to make sure my husband gets annual angiograms, even if he has the medicated stents. Her husband’s stents calcified and they didn’t realize it and she lost him. What an act of kindness to want to spare me her same fate of early widowhood!

And speaking of clogged arteries, another classmate became a vascular surgeon after she graduated from medical school. She was on a panel about women breaking barriers in the workplace. She commented that a woman can be strong in her profession yet still show a softer side. And she was wearing red shoes! A woman after my own heart. (No pun intended…)

Another rewarding part of reunions is meeting the spouses of my male classmates. These women embrace our alma mater as though it were their own. The ones whose husbands are active in the class either in fundraising or on the event side are right beside them helping to make our class and our university successful. Our incoming class president is an example of this. At the risk of hitting some raw nerves, I joked that it reminds me of when Bill Clinton became President and quipped that with Hillary, the country was getting a twofer.

There are times when I think it would be great to celebrate reunions every year. As each reunion passes, after a weekend this intense, I’m increasingly exhausted. But with each reunion, there are also more and more familiar faces that did not live the five years from the previous one. All the more reason to savor them as we celebrate.

If you’re wondering why this post is a day early, it’s because we’re heading to Vermont for the weekend. My micro-preemie grandniece (now age 8) has a ballet recital. This may be the only thing that could top reunion weekend for pure pleasure!