Try a little tenderness
Posted on May 22, 2007
Filed Under marriage, milestones |
This week My Better Half and I will have been marinating in our own juices for ten whole years. Marinating? Did I say ‘marinating’? Why, yes, I borrowed the phrase from a seven year old who, while writing an essay about two dogs who like each other very much, informed me that when two people or creatures think alike they sometimes decide to ‘marinate’. Calmly, sagely, I asked her what this ‘marination’ thing was all about (fully expecting to entertain a birds and the bees conversation.) I was deeply relieved to discover that ‘to marinate’ is simply a second grader’s attempt to conjugate the verb ‘to marry’. According to this little girl, her two dog friends decided to ‘marinate’ and live happily ever after.
So the Better Half and I have been floating around together in a giant Ziploc, filled with a suspicious brown liquid that smells of hope and idealism and wet dog, for an entire decade. And, if we were Rib Eye steaks, we would be tender and mellow and less unctuous by now. But I’m still feeling a little sharp and ropey and the fatty deposits seem to grow larger by the minute. Perhaps mellow and tender are adjectives achieved only after twenty years of stewing. And unctuous, well, my particular marinade seems to heighten unctuousness which may be good thing if your steak but is a whole other problem if you’re a human female that needs to fit into last year’s summer wardrobe.
So, could someone turn over the damn bag? I’m getting all slouched down in a corner and can’t possibly achieve mellow and tender when not fully steeped in the vinegar of life, the mustard of marriage, the paprika of passion (I could go on here - the metaphorical possibilities are endless). But really, I must get back to the business of breaking down the fibers that are so strongly me. I need to concentrate on achieving the gelatinous state of palatable tenderness. Now, after only ten years, I’m still chewy with muscle and connective tissue for I haven’t fully devoted myself to achieving oneness with my Ziploc companion. I haven’t even begun to absorb the complex spices and the piquant acidity of life. For that I’ll need longer than a decade.
Hey, how long does a Ziploc hold it’s seal, anyway?
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