Just Keep It To Yourself: Enough with the Public Marriage Proposals!

Well, it's the holiday season - a time when red and green can be worn at the same time on the same person, a time when fat-shaming is traded in for adoration of a chubby man bearing gifts on his long-haul flight around the world, and a time when jewelry is purchased and someone gets down on bended knee and says the two scariest words ever, "Marry me." The engagement ring - the ultimate stocking stuffer - is often the unexpected guest during the holiday season.  The period between Thanksgiving and the New Year is the busiest time of year for marriage proposals, and why not? After all, this is the usual time of year when couples travel to the hometowns of their significant others. And there, in the glow of the family hearth and home, surrounded by loving strangers in questionable yet kitschy Christmas togs, reeking of holiday cheer and nostalgia, things happen and soon you're watching the guy you've fallen in love with making his ugly cry-face while fumbling with an expensive ring while your nana and pop-pop watch in silent horror as their turkey breast gets cold.

As you may have guessed, I'm not a fan of the public marriage proposal, but, in this social media age, I've been outvoted. Instead of a quiet moment between two people, marriage proposals must go big, bigger, biggest, with stories abounding of elaborate proposals involving flash mobs and choreography that's more involved and twistier than a "Scandal" plot line. But, as anyone knows, the bigger the production, the more likely that things will go wrong, which is why a whole sub-category called marriage proposal fails now exists. This past week, a marriage proposal ended in a man dangling from a crane and a hole in the roof of his girlfriend's house. And the pitfalls of the over-the-top marriage proposal are not limited to property damage. Asking someone to commit to spending the rest of their life with you requires that they consider the question carefully, and that consideration might take longer than the few seconds of space after you say the words and spring the ring. Imagine the unbelievable pressure it puts on a person when this proposal of marriage is delivered in front of a roomful of family members and close friends, or on a jumbo screen in a stadium or other large, public event. Is this public proposal a hint of things to come? Will you tell my family at the Thanksgiving table that we're going to try to have children, in fact, we'll be "trying" in the guest bedroom after you serve the pumpkin pie! ?? Will you be live-Tweeting from the delivery room with pithy hash tags like  #cervix or #AhPushIt? 

So just keep it to yourself, please! It will be great practice for the rest of your married life:)

For the Newly Engaged: A Marriage Manual in 15 Steps

Well, it's January, which means that there are quite a few ladies and gents sporting some new bling and diving into the wedding planning pool. But, before you get those wedding binders bedazzled and sign up for The Knot, I'm here to share some rules for the road for the transition from wedding day bliss to the everyday of marriage. These are tips gleaned from the marital trenches of the brave men and women who have gone before you and will be there to support you on your journey, so here goes!

1. Hire a maid or Shut Your Mouth: Nagging isn't pretty, and neither is suffering in passive-aggressive silence while you clean up after your messy partner. So, hire a maid and make the messy partner pay for it! 
2. Rent an apartment for the first year or so (preferably with a gym and a pool): This seems counter to the prevailing culture, but owning a house means taking care of a house. That means shoveling snow in the winter, cleaning gutters, repairing/replacing windows, sealing driveways, power washing decks, removing carpet, replacing carpet, polishing hardwood floors, and so on, and so on! Think of the time you could be using to do something more interesting like traveling, or taking salsa lessons, or reading so that you'll have something much more fun to talk about than tile grout!
3. NO HOME RENOVATION PROJECTS!!!!: Listen to me because, obviously, if we're discussing this then you've completely ignored my advice in #2 (above), or, you moved into a home that your beloved already owns. And, as often happens in these situations, the partner with the home has graciously offered to change whatever you'd like changed in the home in order for you to put your stamp on the property. Sounds sweet, right?? Don't do it! It will eat up your time and your patience. You two are figuring out your rhythms as a couple, which includes how you make decisions. If you hate the kitchen, hold your nose for at least another 2-3 years and then you have my permission to demo the dang thing!
4. Avoid Home Depot: Need a screw for the light fixture in your hallway, then let the DIY half of your marriage go inside and don't feel guilty for simply not caring about home improvement projects. 
5. Write the thank you notes as soon as the gift arrives, or during your honeymoon or immediately after you return: You'd be surprised at how quickly the time gets away from you after the wedding marathon finally ends. Create a wedding gift spreadsheet so that as the gifts arrive you can log in the name and address of the sender, the date it was received, and a description of the gift. 
6. Buy a subscription to a local theatre/symphony orchestra/museum: This will encourage you to carve out space on each other's calendars and allows you to both experience something new together:)
7. Accept the fact that one of you will always remember to buy postage stamps and that one of you will always ask to borrow those postage stamps!
8. Roughly 50% of your time will involve hauling grocery bags into your home:(
9. The other 50% of your time will be spent returning to the grocery store because you forgot something:( :(
10. Don't buy or ask for a coffee maker in your wedding registry: Sometimes it's nice to have an excuse for one or both of you to leave the house.
11. Avoid getting a pet: A pet is like having a child and you may discover dramatic differences in your child-rearing philosophies. Pets can also block opportunities for spontaneity. It's hard to whisk your spouse away for a surprise evening of dancing and fine food when you have to worry about your four-legged friend sitting cross-legged in his dog crate awaiting your return! Take a couple of years for yourself if you can before the pets.
12. Accept the guilt: Feeling guilty when you get married is the norm, and not because you've done something bad. You feel guilty for spending an afternoon with your girlfriends when it's your husband's first Saturday off from work in months. You feel guilty wanting to read alone in the guest bedroom when your honey wants some "us" time. You feel guilty preferring a weekend at home to a weekend camping with your in-laws, or for eating the last danish, or for not liking the Dr. Who bra and panty set he buys you for Valentine's Day. Over time, you'll figure out how to live your life with the guilt. Oh, and don't think you can trump guilt by simply giving in to your significant other's needs all of the time, because that can lead to resentment!
13. Exercise and Get Enough Sleep: Sometimes married couples say the most hateful things when a 40-minute walk and 8 hours of sleep would have solved the problem. 
14. Face each other and say "I love you" at least once a day: It's always nice to hear, always:)
15. Turn off the gadgets: Do you know the secret to a good marriage? Eye contact, so stop staring at the screen and, instead, look up and focus on that person you vowed to love, honor and cherish. 

Happy wedding and happy marriage to you:)

Food and Love and the Marital Waistline

I guess I should have known that there was going to be trouble from that first time we met. It was across a table at a group dinner when I met the man who would become my husband. And when we eventually went on our first date, it was at another table, at another dinner. This scene would be repeated throughout our courtship - a wonderful meal, a bottle of wine, and delightful conversations. With each new food discovery we made ever more interesting personal discoveries. We traveled the globe, with stops in India, the Middle East, Africa, China, Thailand, and France, all on a dinner plate, and we fell in love. It was intoxicating, fulfilling, and filling, very filling!

We celebrated our engagement in New Orleans, a city known as much for its food as its sensuality. There were doughy, hot beignets in the morning, muffalottas in the afternoon, and andouille-filled nights. We let the good times roll, and by trip's end, well, lets just say that my waistline was beginning the rapid transition from buttons to elastic!

Fast forward 10 years later and our love and our waistlines have continued to grow, and so have the numbers of other couples who share in our same dilemma. When your "plus one" becomes a "plus 20, 30, 40", you start to look for the root of the problem.

Before I met my husband, I was living and working in the city, going to the gym most mornings, and walking the 3-mile round trip to my office before heading out to after-work gallery openings. And pre-We, my hubby was traveling across the country and around the world and in the best shape of his life. So what happened???

Well, let me disclose the sometimes ugly truth of coupling: food becomes your activity.

When the two become one, the difficult dance of merging two people with two sets of friends and two sets of interests can become overwhelming. If she likes to salsa dance at a sweaty club on a Friday night, but he likes to spend Friday nights playing basketball with his friends, as their relationship with each other deepens, the compromises start - maybe he doesn't need to shoot hoops every Friday night, and maybe she doesn't have to salsa dance at some stuck-up club on a Friday night in order to get her weekly thrill. And food soon becomes the neutral zone, a space that's not his or hers, but theirs - you know, like Pottery Barn furniture in a hetero couple's home!

If you're in a romantic relationship try this exercise: For one week, keep an activity log, include activities, like going to the gym, dinner and a movie, or visiting a museum. Include details about all of your meals as well as if you did the activity with or without your significant other. Feeling adventurous? Keep your activity log for 4 weeks. You'll see some interesting trends. I tried this and was dismayed to learn how many of our activities involved food.

De-coupling food from the couple equation is hard to do, and my husband and I are working hard. Some days are wonderful low-calorie/high activity days. And some days, well, not so good, but we're trying and enjoying this new journey. I hit the road with him and he walks the museums with me and food, well, it's just that stuff we grab before heading to the next adventure. I'm just saying:)

Maria and Arnold: The End of the Political Marriage

Well, after 25 years of marriage, it appears that the party is over for Maria Shriver and former Governor-slash-celluloid he-man Arnold Schwarzenegger. The two announced their separation and I and the rest of the world are stunned. Granted, we were stunned when they first got together - she, with a political pedigree, and he with his spray butter, muscles, and Conan the Barbarian flicks. What a crazy pair!! Truth be told, we were shocked that they made it past their first wedding anniversary, but by the time they survived the seventh year, itch-free, well, we kind've took them for granted. The last time I felt this way was when Al and Tipper Gore announced the end of their 40-year marriage. My heart sank, I mean they could've split in January 2000 and spared everyone the spectacle of their infamous sloppy kiss at the 2000 Democratic National Convention! But all of this makes me think that we may be witnessing the evolution of the political marriage.

The political marriage has always been a subject of speculation for those of us who watch them from a distance. We're always looking for a magical doorway into this most intimate of relationships. Why? Mostly because we're just curious about this carefully crafted political character and wondering what percentage of what we see is an act. There are some of us, though, who want to find the weakness in a person, and where better to dig for dirt than in the backyard of their marriage.

The political marriage follows a timeworn trajectory, beginning with the dashing, ambitious young man meeting and marrying the demure, yet practical young lady, who bears him the perfect, camera-ready offspring. He begins his quest for elective life and she begins her tour of duty slogging it out in the mine-fields of campaign stops and ladies' luncheons. Along the way there are defeats, election nights where she and the kids stand supportively behind the husband-candidate while he makes a heart-felt speech thanking the troops, congratulating the other guy who won, and pledging to run again, and win the next time. And then there will be victories, and there she'll be, the political wife of a winning candidate, resplendent and shining, smiling as she stands next to her husband, passing the cherubic children to him so that he may hoist them high into the air for the cameras to see. Now, there will be tough times - when the poll numbers show how dissatisfied the voters are with her husband, or when the whispers begin about her husband and some sweet young thing, but the political wife will keep her head up, smiling broadly, clutching the hands of her little ones as she attempts to break through the gaggle of press blocking her way to the kids' elementary school. And when the indiscretion is confirmed, it will be the political wife who will stand propped up next to her husband, suffering the glare of the flashbulbs while her husband reads his prepared statement. And when he leaves elective political life, it will be the political wife who will attend to him.

I've got to admit - I'm surprised that ANY political marriages survive at all! I mean, imagine having to listen to pundits and the opinionated masses ripping apart your husband or wife in the never-ending churn of the 24-hour news cycle? Think about it! How could Laura Bush muster any romantic feeling with that dufus Will Ferrell pretending to be her husband??

And don't forget that the political marriage seems always to require sacrifice on the part of the people who weren't elected at all. Sure, Chris Matthews might grill your elected spouse like a July 4th barbecue at 5:00PM, but at 7:00PM, your spouse could get a standing ovation from the 1500 people attending a rally on his behalf! And what do you, oh loyal political spouse get in return? You get to be the single parent, attending your children's soccer games (alone!), getting dinner on the table (ALONE!), dressing yourself and the kids and rushing over to that 7:00PM rally with a smile plastered on your face so that no one knows how much that SOB getting all of that love and attention takes you completely for granted.

I say that it's about time that the Maria Shrivers and the Tipper Gores stood up and walked out. Maybe the next generation of political marriages will be based on truly equitable partnerships. We're starting to see some examples of that. The First Lady of France has kept her day job as model/singer/actress, and here in the U.S. Dr. Jill Biden is inspiring students everyday in her job as a professor. If there's one lesson to take away from the political marriage it's this - it must have balance. I'm just saying:)

The Day He Put a Ring on It:)

My left hand and I have had an extraordinary relationship over the years. When I would hang out with my grandmother, she'd let me play in her jewelry box and I'd adorn every finger of my left hand with one of many rings - some real, some costume. I felt like a little Lana Turner with my bejeweled and elegant hands, but instead of holding a glass of scotch or a champagne flute, my little hands would artfully grip a plastic tumbler filled to the brim with apple juice. As I grew older, so did my left hand and her maturing taste left no room for mere baubles. This sartorial shift coincided with some major events in my life - teenage birthdays, high school graduations, etc. - and gifts of gold and pearls and diamonds from Mom and Dad, and Grandma.

In college, though, silver had become all of the rage, along with grungy flannel, jeans with intentional holes at the knees, and a hippy-chic that put a permanent stench of musk oil and hemp in the halls of the campus dorms. Caravans of merchants descended on my college campus, filling the campus center with their cheap treasures, and soon, my left hand was overloaded with silver trinkets, channeling a latter day Stevie Nicks and her gypsy toughness.

In the years after school, my left hand told the stories of my life, from first big job (gold signet class ring), to evenings out with my girlfriends (silver black onyx ring), to symphony orchestra concerts (gold dome ring), and first dates (chunky polished silver band paired with silver garnet ring). I changed my rings as I changed my moods, until, one day 10 years ago, I was given a ring unlike any other I'd had before. By now, you must have guessed that this was an engagement ring, and this week I and the man who gave me that ring will celebrate that day, and all of the days since. If the stories of my life can be told by my left hand, then the story is a love story. I may not be able to dance in a onesie, a la Beyonce, but I'm so glad he put a ring on it:) I'm just saying!

Cleaning House: How a Hoover and some Lysol Brought Me Back to Sanity

I'm typing this post with achy arms, a sore back, and a sense of satisfaction because yesterday I cleared my calendar and took the day off from work to clean my house. I know, it sounds crazy and a bit backwards to hear a woman praising her domestic side, but I'm not writing this as a woman craving to bring back the days of "Leave it to Beaver" and the high-heeled pump posse who vacuumed the living rooms of yester-year, rather, I'm writing this as a human being who finally had it up to here with my mess. The catalyst for this wasn't a specific event, nor was it the result of a marathon viewing of "Hoarders" or "Clean House." It was, instead, a call to order the disorder that's surrounded me.

For the record, I've always liked certain aspects of the housecleaning experience. Dusting the furniture was always cool because of the shine and the lemony scent of the wood polish that was left behind. The best was walking back into the house and getting two nostrils full of Lemon Pledge - it was like all was right with the world. I took to mopping for the same reason because who doesn't dig the fresh clean scent of Lysol. Growing up, Saturdays were devoted to Mom, my sister and I cleaning the house. Out would come the bag of dust rags - mostly old t-shirts - the vacuum (in which I once caught my dead dog Tory's tail - go figure!), the brooms, dustpans, mop and bucket, trash bags, and all of the liquids and polishes needed for the tasks at hand. We would pick our desired area of dust-busting and hop to it, with the Metropolitan Opera broadcast blaring on the stereo. A few hours later, our work complete, we'd head out for some fun, and, returning home, we'd be greeted by the smell of clean.

Cleaning the house wasn't a political act when I was growing up, but it easily could have been. My maternal grandmother earned her living cleaning the houses of others, and my paternal grandmother was still cleaning office buildings well into her 70s. For these two women, cleaning for money was what they had to do for their families' survival, but there was also personal pride and peace of mind in keeping their own homes spotless.

By the time I got to college, though, a clean house was the last thing on my mind. I blithely made piles on top of piles, creating a mighty tower of shirts, skirts, and pants that was architecturally impressive but structurally unsound. When my parents visited me on campus, the state of my room was tops in all of our discussions. Fueled by the feminist thinkers who demanded an end to the rituals of cooking and cleaning that had imprisoned women, I made my mess my mission.

My rebellion continued through graduate school, and, by then, I was joined by several of my girlfriends, all of us questioning the value of Windex in our post-grad lives, but already cracks were beginning to show in my hardened stance. In an effort to reduce parent-child tensions, I'd taken to cramming my clothing piles into a bedroom closet whenever Mom and Dad visited. After they'd leave, though, I started to notice the extra square footage and I liked what I saw. Soon, I started thinking of making my temporary solution a permanent state.

Bit by bit, I made my way back to a clean house, until I got married. It seems that somehow, through some freak hiccup in the Matrix, I, a former maker of piles, had inadvertently fallen in love with a serial stacker. Backsliding was inevitable, and epic. My husband suggested getting a maid, but I resisted, and not because I like my mess, and not because I had come to believe that it was my duty as the lady of the house to clean. No, I resisted because getting into the habit of having someone else clean up the mess that I've made is a dangerous habit. It can produce a thoughtlessness, an unconcern for the consequences of my actions.

We give children chores because it teaches them responsibility and shows them the value of contributing to group living, but as adults we shirk these duties. In the nuclear family, it's the woman who cleans while the men folk and the children make the mess. I have lots of friends who, in order to keep their sanity, happily fork over money for a cleaning lady. They figure it's better than the argument they'd have with their husbands. And maybe they're right, but it still doesn't solve the underlying problem of the mess that your mess leaves behind.

Which brings me to my clean-a-thon the other day. When I finished cleaning, I walked from room to room, inspecting my progress and I felt calm. My mind wasn't racing, I was relaxed and I cracked open a book. My physical connection with my space had resulted in peace of mind. I could smell the Lysol and the memories of my childhood, and I was home:) I'm just saying.

Our before My, and We before I: A Crash Course in Relationship Linguistics

There was a time in my not-so-distant past that I was an "I", and what was mine was mine. But that was when I was single. Oh, occasionally when I was dating a fellow I'd slip in the odd "we" or "our", but never within earshot of the guy or he'd be sprinting out the door! It seems that a pronoun change says more about commitment than putting a ring on it.

But I must admit that after all these years of marriage, I find myself uneasy and on the cusp of rebellion against the customs which dictate that "we" come before "I." I once sent a birthday present to a friend of mine, a friend whom I'd cultivated and known for years prior to meeting the man who would become my husband. She's single and the present was intended for her and her alone. So when the thank you card arrived at my home addressed to both my husband and I, I was beyond peeved. He hadn't remembered her birthday, special ordered the blinged out t-shirt, or selected the poignant-yet-funny birthday card - I did! I hadn't even signed his name to the card, or used our joint mailing labels (that's right, I keep my very own solo mailing labels!). No where in that perfectly packed parcel of birthday delights had I indicated that my husband was in any way involved in this process, and yet the thank you note was addressed to both of us.
I'm still baffled by this one!

The whole "we" before "I" debate can become even more prickly when the matter involves one of the most vile phrases ever: "we're pregnant!" We've all heard that one, and some of us have even spoken those words. And, I get what the phrase is meant to convey - that Dear Old Dad has a place in the vortex of pregnancy. We've all read chapter and verse about how dads can feel left out of the process and, seeking to minimize those feelings, we go all inclusive. But, guess what, unless dads-to-be have finagled a way to gain 30-60 pounds, make their breasts tender, and strap a watermelon on so that it's resting inconveniently on their bladders and forcing them to sleep on their backs for 9 months then "WE" are not pregnant! Now, I don't want to come off as an absolutist, so for those of you who love using this phrase, please, go right ahead, but don't just save it up for pre-natal uses. How's about this: "we're having our period" or, "we look fat in these jeans." Does that sound ridiculous?? Good - case closed!

Look, I'm sure that "we" works better than "I" in some of those tricky situations that couples often find themselves confronting. For instance, it sounds much better to say, "We can't make it to dinner with you" than to say, "I can't stand your husband so I won't be joining you for dinner." And, "we're sorry we're late" is much classier than saying, "Sorry that I spent so much time begging my husband to get dressed to come to your tedious party, which made us late." "We" avoids conflict and lets people fill in the blank in their own minds as to what or who the problem is. It's a very useful united front, that is until the couple divorces, and that "we" gets dropped like a bad habit!

But still, I don't understand why the "we" persists. Hmm. Maybe, it's because the "we" must persist. Maybe it's a means of protecting our fragile psyches from the existential angst that occasionally unmasks the unknown void as our physical bodies journey towards their end. Wow, that got really deep, didn't it?? I'm just saying:)

Hey Ladies, Where's Our Hall Pass??

At some point, between the first time and the second time that the ad for the movie, "Hall Pass," I started to feel a slight twinge in my right forefinger. That twinge became a persistent poking that had spread to my entire right arm by the fourth or fifth viewing of the "Hall Pass" ad, and by the seventh viewing, I figured that I'd have to either change the TV channel, or scream my head off. "Hall Pass" stars an ensemble cast of c-list actors from television sitcoms, including that guy who looks like that guy from "The Hangover", but who's on "Saturday Night Live" in that red Adidas track suit doing the Running Man in that skit with that guy from that show that was on Nickelodeon. But I digress! "Hall Pass" is about a group of men who are given permission by their wives to indulge in a voyage of debauchery, with the understanding that after their romp, they'll return home to their significant others, fully sated.

What the wha??!!

I wish that "Hall Pass" was unique, but, sadly, it's just a carbon copy of "The Hangover", which starred that guy who's not Josh Lucas or Matthew McConaughey. And you might as well add in "Cedar Rapids" while you're at it, which, from its trailers, appears to be a mash-up of "Porkys" and "The Office"! In each of these movies, the men folk are free to roam, set loose on an open prairie populated by scantily clad ladies and a convenient and abundant supply of booze, snacks, and stripper poles. There are some ladies in these films who manage to keep their clothes on, though, and these women are called The Wives. They pop up at the worst possible moments, like when their husbands are having a good time with the scantily clad ladies, booze, snacks and stripper poles!

By the end of these films, the boys return home from their lost weekends, with a renewed and profound love for their wives. Sounds great, huh? HELL TO THE NO!!

So here's my question: where's my hall pass????

Answer: ask Thelma and Louise.

You all remember the film, "Thelma and Louise" don't you?? It's about two girls gone wild, out on a crazy tear after one of them suffers physical abuse at the hands of her significant other. Of course, this film doesn't include a cameo by boxer Mike Tyson, and the two titular heroines choose to hurl their car into the Grand Canyon rather than be caught alive! So here's the "takeaway" for us ladies - no hall pass for us!

You won't see "The Hangover Part 3: The Book Club Hits the Strip Club" anytime soon, or "Soccer Moms in Vegas" or "Bunko Gone Bad" at the local cineplex. You see, the sad truth is that when we think of women getting together and letting their hair down, we confine our thoughts to chardonney, shopping, and the spa.  We don't get a hall pass because why would we need one? We are the Thing Planners, the Schedule Keepers, the List Makers, in short, the responsible ones. While men will be boys, women will always be women, at least that's how it is in the movies. But maybe that's not really what bugs me about these films. Maybe, it's that these movies are telling a truth, all be it from one point of view. I'm just saying!

The 10 Commandments of Facebook

By now, we've all enjoyed long Saturday afternoons mining the delights of Facebook. But, apparently, that's not all we've been doing. Recent news stories have told tales of marriage-busting indiscretions that have begun on Facebook. Divorce lawyers back up these claims with figures of their own, showing an uptick in Facebook being a factor in marital rifts. So it seems that the time has come for I'm Just Saying's 10 Commandments for Facebook:

1. Thou shalt not "friend" nor confirm your ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.
2. Thou shalt not "friend" nor confirm that guy or gal you hooked up with sophomore year of undergrad.
3. Thou shalt not post suggestive photos of yourself as your profile pic.
4. Thou shalt not post status updates that read, "bored and looking for some company."
5. Thou shalt not IM your friend's spouse and have long conversations about the meaning of life and your impending mid-life or quarter-life crisis.
6. If thou hast broken Commandment #1, then thou shalt not suggest a telephone call or coffee date to "catch up," because you might get caught up!
7. Thou shalt not check "single" in Relationship Status if you're in a relationship.
8. Thou shalt not hit the "like" button when your buff ex from high school posts his shirtless pics on his profile.
9. Thou shalt not post old photos of you and your exes on your profile.
10. If thou hast broken any of these commandments, thou shalt not attempt to hide your actions from your spouse, for as there are no secrets on Facebook, so no secret can be hid from your spouse.

I'm just saying!

Twas the Week Without iPhone:(

It all started innocently enough - it was the end of the week, time to take a few minutes to sync up the old iPhone. At least that's how this electronic adventure began for my husband and I. The iPhone in question is his as I have and continue to be a lover of Blackberry, but let's not rub salt into the wounds. So let me get back to my story, ah yes, it was time to sync. All seemed to be fine, until it was time to download and install an iTunes update. That's when hell's fury was unleashed and my hubby's iPhone became a blank, empty useless shell. No apps. No NPR/New York Times real time updates. No LMAO singing, "Shots." No texting. No telephone. We were off the grid.

Anyone who uses an iPhone can attest to the wonders and joys of catching up on the latest episode of "Glee" while you're standing in a long line at the Post Office, or playing a raucous game of Scrabble while you're at the DMV. It's a beautiful thing - when it works. But when it doesn't work, it's an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Since it was a busy work week, my hubby could only dedicate evening hours in pursuit of a fix. We decided to work as a team. I went the conventional route, calling the customer support number for Apple and trying to restore the settings on the dang thing. The telephone call was an exercise in frustration, and, in the end, the disembodied voice over the phone and the help function in iTunes both led me to the same place - the desolate realm of the online support forums. Pages and pages, with links to subpages and footnotes, flew before my eyes with a dizzying array of instructions and alternate actions, all in super-geek-speak.

My husband would check in by phone to see how the patient was doing, and he'd continue the work on his return from the office, on a furious hunt for corrupted files, failures to initiate, or drivers that failed to install. One night, we stayed up until 3am, well, actually, the hubby did - I took little cat-naps illuminated by the light of the computer screen. Until finally, he turned off the lamp and the computer and issued a DNR for his iPhone, at least until we can take it to a "genius" over the weekend.

The psychological effects of this have been curious. When we're watching television and trying to figure out just where we've seen that actor before, instead of the usual quick trip to his iPhone, my husband struggles to remember instead. At dinner, our little friend is no longer on the table. And when I'm reading, I've noticed that my husband's actually staring at me and not the screen. It's been nice.

But as much as his iPhone can hinder our communication, it also has been a great tool for us to keep in touch during our busy days. While I'm at work, he'll send me sweet text messages to ask how it's going, almost like digital mash notes. I can text him a funny joke on a day when I know he's slammed.

Hopefully, our little iPhone will be all fixed and ready for action. But I hope that we remember that it's nice, once in a while, to turn it off. BTW, Blackberry rocks! I'm just saying:)

How to Marriage-Proof Your Friendships

They were there for you when you dated what's-his-name, and when you dumped what's-his-name. They leaped for joy when you got The Big Job and crossed their fingers when you went for The Big Promotion. They ooh-ed and ah-ed when he put a ring on it, and they bustled your big white dress before you took to the floor for your first married dance. These are your friends, and while they survived through thick and through thin, they sometimes bite it after "to have and to hold." So what gives?

Numerous studies have talked about the health benefits of coupling and the stability that a legal union brings, but the negative toll that marital bliss takes on friendships can be measured in more emotional ways. Want proof? If you're married, take a look at the people who were your bridesmaids and your groomsmen and ask yourself when was the last time that you talked to them, had a meal with them, shared a confidence with them.

If you're not pleased with the results of this walk down memory lane, you're not alone. A lot of us, both married and single, received bad advice. Newlyweds are expected to be sequestered in connubial bliss for the first year of marriage. Writing thank-you notes, finding a home for all of the wedding loot, and, of course, making mad, passionate love are what you're supposed to do. If you come out of your love den to attend the odd family event, you're greeted with knowing smiles and snickers, especially when asked "so, what have you two been up to?" You almost expect to see Benny Hill pop up and deliver a "hello, hello" in his best Cockney accent!

After the Honeymoon Year, the married couple continues to settle down, maybe buying a new home or beginning home improvement projects to the home they already own. I call years 2-5 The Project Years, which can include redoing a kitchen, a bathroom, an entire house. There will be many hours spent at Home Depot or Lowe's, as well as Benjamin Moore, and your kitchen table will become a repository for paint samples, floor and tile samples, and an Ikea catalogue, in case you scrap the whole DIY thing altogether.You're also supposed to be making mad, passionate love, but this is part of another project - making babies.

By the end of year 5, if you've successfully completed The Project Years, then it's time to raise your children with that newly remodeled kitchen/bathroom, or, if you haven't done so already, move into a more child-friendly home and/or neighborhood. Now it's at this point that you will meet other parents or parents-to-be, either in the neighborhood or at yoga class, and you'll become friends.

By now you should be asking, "But what happened to my old friends?"

The answer to that is complicated. If you had an amazing sense of timing, then you and your friends went through this cycle of engagement and marriage around the same time. But, if you're like most people, then while you were in the Honeymoon Year, your old friends, who were also following bad advice, were giving you your space.

Space. Let's think about that word. When people are in a romantic relationship and they say they need their "space", you don't have to be Phi Beta Kappa to know that you're at the end of the line. So if you say that you're giving your newlywed friend space, does that mean you're throwing in the towel on your friendship?

Well, sort of.

Let me explain. As the old friend, I am supposed to be understanding of the needs of my newlywed friends, and I'm supposed to amend my expectations for our friendship lest I be called "needy" and, worse, jealous of their coupled happiness. As the old friend, my job is to be undemanding, which means tossing out the unwritten rules of what friendship actually means. Phone calls, lunches, dinners, trips to museums, trips to the movies/flea market/shopping mall - these are all optional now. Don't get me wrong, these activities were optional before marriage, too, but they didn't feel optional. They felt vital. And at some point, your old friend finds a new friend - someone whom they can call without guilt or reservation. In essence, they hit the "delete" button on your friendship before you do.

Some friendships limp along with interactions confined to group dinners or holiday open houses with sprawling guest lists, and the quality of the friendship declines. Once the children begin to arrive, along with a move further out to the bigger home, then you're down to holiday cards and occasional telephone calls. But it doesn't have to be this way and here are some tips to help your friendships survive the marriage trap:

1. Leave the Significant Other at home (or, "Guess Who's NOT Coming to Dinner) - You love your spouse, and your spouse knows that, so you don't have to spend every moment with them, and neither does your friend. Going out to dinner sans spouse might seem odd, at first, but if you want your friendships to grow and deepen, then you must provide for the ability of your friend to share new and fun experiences with you alone. I'm not saying that you can't invite your friend to a family dinner, too, but if you make that your only interaction, then you're making a mistake.
2. Zip the lip (or, "Put it in the vault") -  I've never bought into the bunk that says that spouses must share everything with each other, including their friends' personal business. Why? Because, guess what, YOU'RE  MY FRIEND, NOT YOUR SPOUSE! A friendship is an intimate relationship which means it involves trust. If I know that you're blabbing away to your husband about what I've told you in confidence, then I'm not telling you anything more.
3. Phone NOT Facebook (or, Don't "Friend" Me, Just be my Friend) - Facebook has made lots of things more efficient, but true friendship is more than efficiency. While you may post about your new car, don't forget to call your best buddy during the whole car-buying process. Think that something like that's too trivial to call and tell your friend about? Well, you just posted it for hundreds of other pairs of eyes - think about it!
4. Let Your Friend Play Hostess (or, Su Casa, Not Mi Casa) - So you've got all of the pieces to your wedding china, as well as that Tiffany's serving dish and you can't wait to show them off, but if you want to keep your friendship from becoming a perpetual "away game" for your friend, then do them the courtesy of visiting them at their home. They love their home as much as you love yours. They have favorite recipes they'd love to cook for you. Let them, and love them for seeking to share this most personal part of who they are - their home.

It may not be easy, at first. Instead of giving each other space, think, instead, of redefining the space of your friendship.

I'm just saying:)

A Holiday Crash Course

As the great migration begins for the Christmas holiday, there are some travelers who are in a panic- not about the overly familiar TSA screener with the twinkle in their eye and the frisky fingers, nor about the conditions in the rest stop powder rooms along the New Jersey Turnpike. No, they're anxious because this will be their first Christmas with their significant other's family.

For us veterans out there, that first Big Holiday with your honey's family can be like a visit to a foreign country with new and interesting customs, and a language that's not your own. It can be tough to navigate a terrain populated with inside jokes and references to events that have occurred over the life of a family that is not your own. There are the landmines onto which you will step through no fault of your own - the innocent inquiry into the source of the lovely place-settings can open up a generations'-old blood feud involving several family members (living and dead).

So here are some strategies to keep you safe during your maiden voyage into this undiscovered country:

1. Find your Buddy: The trek to this new world can be scary, and, because your Sherpa, who happens to be your honey, is also a NATIVE of this land, prepare yourself to be left alone at some point. DO NOT PANIC!! Whether you've been stranded on the sofa in the family room in front of the overly-large plasma TV with Cousin Jenny who forgot her meds, or you're in the vortex of a heated debate involving your honey and their family, get your wits about you and scan that room for a friendly face. Chances are, you'll see a fellow traveler who speaks your language. Heck, they might even be able to translate for you!
2. Familiarize Yourself with the Terrain: Prior to arrival in the new land, ask your Sherpa important questions like where can I go to have a smoke or where is the nearest bar? Find the bathrooms (ALL of the bathrooms, as you never know when you might need a moment of quiet and mental retreat - with the exhaust fan and the gentle tunes of your iPod, it's the closest thing you may get to a spa. Hell, while you're in there, run yourself a bath, too:)
3. A "no thank you" Serving Makes the Natives Happy: One of my friends has the misfortune of being a vegetarian in a long-term relationship with a man whose mother believes that dinner plates are for food items that had a face and parents. So the big holiday meal is a test of wills with green beans cooked in bacon fat. It's become a "thing", so, my advice, have a little bit, say a cheerful "no thank you" if seconds are being passed, and that's all. It's an away game for you so let it go and attack that extra bag of pretzels that you got on the airplane! In the words of Conan O'Brien, "eat your mush and shut your pie-hole!"
4. Wine NOT Whine: Be of good cheer, and if you're having the worst time in the world, then uncork some joy and save the whining for when you get home. Your Sherpa may have abandoned you, you may have listened to dozens of family tales, and you may have slept on the lumpiest/smelliest mattress ever made, but no one wants to hear it. Your honey may be oblivious to what you might be suffering, but the time to clue them in is not when their family members are in the next room of a house with paper thin walls.

So grab a glass, actually, you should grab 2 glasses, give your honey a hug, and toast to the holidays (and that you have another 365 days until you have to do this again:)

I'm just saying!!

What's My Name, the Holiday Edition!!

When I met the man and he put a ring on it nine years ago we started planning - the wedding venue, the reception hall, the menu and bar, the honeymoon, the flowers. It wasn't until a few weeks before the wedding that I learned that he had planned one additional item - that I would legally change my name to his. When I told him that I had no intention of doing so, there ensued a series of awkward pauses. It had never occurred to him that the wife would not change her last name. And while I may have given in on the guest count and a few other items, on this matter, I would not bend. No hyphenation, no use of my "maiden" name as my middle name (and, BTW, "maiden" name irritates me to no end. I'm not skipping around in a field in petticoats for gosh sakes!!!). This was and is my name, and, just as he need not change his name in order to signal to the world our union, commitment, and love for one another, I, too, found it unnecessary. He listened to me and he heard me - that's why he is the man I love.

But now, we're here, and into our eighth Christmas season, and as the Christmas cards arrive, I notice that my name is, apparently, up for debate. Cousins, aunts, and uncles are, it seems, still in favor of the Mr. and Mrs. For them, I sort of understand as we only send out holiday cards once a year - albeit with printed address labels that clearly show our two-namedness (I just made up that word - it's pretty cool!!!). However, close friends whom we see throughout the year, who know what my name is, have become frequent violators. I'd thought of, one year, addressing their cards to "Bobby Watson", of Absurdist Eugene Ionesco fame. That idea was shot down by the husband, ah well:(

So why does this happen?? I've often blamed poor holiday card mailing list maintenance. Seriously. Throughout the year we update our lists as people move, divorce, die - things happen! I keep our lists in a Word doc so that updates are easy to make, and labels easily run. I know, I know, Miss Manners would say it's impolite to have printed labels for addresses, but, hey, which is worse - a printed label that's easily read or calling someone the wrong name.

Now, while I think there are some staunch anti-namechangers out there (and this can be men as well as some of you ladies out there) who simply refuse to address us correctly, I also think that people actually don't know my last name. A card comes in the mail and the envelope, with that all-important return address information,  is immediately trashed. Also, people assume that, of course, she's changed her last name. I don't lump these people in with the anti-namechangers as, when they notice the error, they actually will make an effort to include my actual legal name.

I had a similar issue when sending out a thank you note to a couple that I do not know very well. I asked friends who were close to the couple about their name situation and was informed that while the wife had opted out of the name-change, these friends were unsure of her actual last name. So I simply addressed the card using the couple's first names only. Yep, they knew that I didn't know a last name, however, they were cool with the fact that I didn't offend them.

So far this year we've had a few cards with Mr. and Mrs. and I'm sure that number will increase as we get into the last-minute crush of holiday card mailing. In fact, a friend of mine, a fellow traveler in Camp Opt Out, has been tracking the Mr. and Mrs. count for the holiday cards she and her hubby have received. We're going to keep collecting the envelopes and develop some sort of game involving adult beverages...and maybe darts!

I'm just saying:)

Marriage Ain't Pretty!

So you all may have heard the news about the earth-shaking break-up of Ryan Reynolds and ScarJo. Ryan Reynolds, he of the adorable, slightly sexy goofball set, and Scarlett Johansson just announced yesterday that their marriage of two years was ending. The fact that two popular Hollywood actors had a marriage that lasted beyond two days may seem miraculous to most. And, given that Hollywood is a place run by the Pretty People and for the Pretty People, it's little wonder why that Seven Year Itch is on a more accelerated timetable and that People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive and the sultry, raspy-voiced ScarJo couldn't make a go of it.

Think about all of the Pretty People - Eva and Tony, Madonna and Guy/Jesus/etc., Reese and El Phillippe, Brad and Jen. Marriage is hard for these people. Forever and "til death us do part" have to be difficult concepts in a business where your shelf life can be suddenly shortened by the next big thing. They have the big wedding and the photo spread in InStyle and what are they left with? Marriage.

Headlines are written everyday about steamy on-set romances, nasty divorces, and elaborate budget-busting weddings, but there's never an US Weekly cover that trumpets "Hollywood couple celebrates 15 years of being committed to the everyday of their marriages." I take that back - you do see occasional articles on the art of the Hollywood marriage, usually as a PR dodge to cover up a crumbling union.

So why should we care? Because just as Hollywood influences the clothes that we wear, and the homes that we live in, the Hollywood marriage, that begins with lavish fanfare and limps along to a quick finish (but before the exclusive wedding photos are sold), has increasingly become the model for the Everyman marriage. Shows like Bridezillas and now, the awesomely awful Bridalplasty, give us a glimpse of the Not So Pretty People stepping up for their 15 minutes.

So here's my advice: Pretty People please stop calling what you do a "marriage" if you don't want to do the work. Take a page from the book of Prince William and his bride-to-be who are undergoing pre-marital counseling. That's right - Pretty People acting like Ordinary People. Or Brad and Angelina who, without branding their union a "marriage",  have all of the elements of a family, but set against exotic climes and international backdrops and private jets.

In short, stop monkeying around with marriage. You want to wear a big dress and have scads of photos taken of you? Then get yourself booked into a Vogue or W Mag photo shoot the way that God intended!

I'm just saying:)