My friend Gail Remaly, her aunt, Nancy, and I went to UAPresents last night to hear The Academy of St. Martin in the Fields and Joshua Bell. Gail's husband had a surgical procedure at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale on Friday and was wanting her to go for him and do for him before she left to pick up Nancy and meet me for dinner. She warned him that if didn't start doing some things for himself, he might have to have surgery on his knees on Monday.
Gail's stories reminded me of some anecdotes from my third marriage.
Bob was Mormon, in all that entails: me - Tarzan, you - Jane; outside of the house - mine; inside of the house - yours. And if you know the Mormon people, you know that they take care of each other. If someone is ill or going to be hospitalized, the women of the church will band together and make sure their "sister" is cared for.
About eight months into our marriage, I needed to have a hysterectomy. My doctor told me I would need three weeks for recuperation. I knew my women friends would take care of me and I wouldn't have to worry about things in the house being taken care of.
So about two weeks before the surgery, Bob told me that he expected me to have six weeks of meals prepared and in the freezer before I went into the hospital. He was not going to have other people providing for us. So being the obedient good girl, I sliced and diced and cooked and baked until the requisite six weeks of meals were safely stowed in the freezer, right next to the head and antlers of the buck that he had shot and was storing until he could get it mounted.
A couple of weeks later, post-surgery, when I was in lots of pain every day, I was lying on the floor with my feet on the couch to try to relieve some of the back pain. Bob was sitting on the couch, watching TV, and decided he wanted something to drink. So he stepped over me to walk to the kitchen to get his drink or snack. He never thought to ask me if he could get me anything while he was up.
This was the marriage where his son threatened to shoot me and he refused to lock up the guns and ammunition. I hope you're not still wondering why I'm no longer married to this caveman.
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