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He Loves Me, He Loves Me Knot

February 14, 2018

Easter 2017, at Purcell Park, Harrisonburg

Another Way for week of February 9, 2018

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Knot

My husband mutters something in loud exasperation from the kitchen.

I catch myself hunching over like Edith Bunker, dropping what I’m doing to hurry out to  see what Archie’s problem is. Then I straighten up and walk normally. I do not want to be an Edith Bunker. (Everyone over 50 knows who I’m talking about. If you’re under 50 Google for a video of the Bunker family.)

The problem he’s having, is a knot. I knotted the bread bag in the kind of knot he can’t undo very easily. His knots—technically a slip knot—you pull on the end and it comes right open. Slick. But not my knots.

I don’t do knots. Oh I can tie my shoes, sure, and knot the end of a bread bag so the bread doesn’t go stale but his specialty knot is one you twist around like a rope, he says, and then make your loop and pull up on the top till it’s tight; then you undo it by just pulling on it. I can’t even explain the knots he can make like magic all day long. Although he wouldn’t agree with me, he knows his knots: for fishing lines, tying down tarps, or ropes holding down branches and yard mess to take to the landfill on the back of the pickup. His knots come loose when you need them to with the pull of your hand.

1976, at Trinity Presbyterian Church

I do do one knot, the knot of marriage. Back in the day, we were brought up to tie marriage knots tight and they were not to be undone, unless unraveled by unfaithfulness or abuse.

And so we adjust to the idiosyncrasies of our mates even while gritting our teeth about the toilet paper roll or the toothpaste tube or the way they fold the laundry or the way they spread their peanut butter sandwich or that they insist on using salad dressing rather than mayo on a sandwich.

We weather good times and bad, joyous times and sad, and we learn to take all these little eccentricities in stride.

This is my husband making his coffee: he first heats a tall plastic cup for 3 ½ half minutes in the microwave, to warm his mega-mug (holds almost a quart, like a Yeti only far cheaper), so the coffee will stay hot longer. He heats up his French Vanilla cream in a small juice cup, about one ounce, in the microwave so the coffee will stay hot longer. He adds a packet of Stevia extract, stirs with a plastic straw, and voilà he slurps his coffee. Which he technically doesn’t even really like but he has his reasons about why he starts his day with it.

Me making my coffee: I make my quart of coffee, pour a cup into whatever mug is handy, and drink it black. Which technically is only decaf, but I still like it in the morning, not to wake me up but because I really like it, just black like that, and I don’t do caffeine. Later in the morning I perhaps add cream and sugar when it has started to taste old and tired and I don’t like it as much.

Notice, he makes his own coffee, and usually makes mine. This didn’t happen earlier in our marriage, before he started drinking coffee. I love it when he makes mine too. Archie Bunker would never have made Edith’s coffee, I don’t think.

Photo booth at a nephew’s graduation party, summer 2017.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my love, for better and for worse. Thanks for allowing me to share the ups and downs of our life. I’m glad we tied our knot.

***

For my free booklet, “Secrets of a Long Marriage,” mail me at anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or at Another Way Media, Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22850.

Another Way is a column © by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. Columns are posted at http://www.FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.  

 

 

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3 Comments
  1. Our husbands are both fanatics about coffee it seems. It would be tiresome to iterate the steps Cliff goes through to get his coffee just right. In the end it ends up black and the right degree of hotness.

    Yesterday we had a “knot” about scheduling suppertime. I believe I was the one who over-reacted, but this morning I woke up with hubby in the kitchen making breakfast for me.

    Your “knot” story reads like a good anecdote for a Chicken Soup for the Soul series. I hope you consider this a compliment; it is intended as such. 🙂

  2. My husband is a new fanatic, just been drinking it the last couple years now.

    Yes, I consider the Chicken Soup comparison a compliment. It was one of those pieces that wrote itself once I got started. Then I was afraid my husband would feel I had gone too far. But he was okay with it and has learned to give his input or corrections, and then back off. 🙂 My mother said she chuckled throughout. I had wondered if she would “get” the various ways I was playing with the knot. No problem. 🙂

    Nice to have a hubby making breakfast! Way to go Cliff. I thought about adding a photo of the Valentine’s Day bouquet of flowers that greeted me when I got home from work. He gives flowers infrequently enough that I haven’t come to expect it, but it is a nice surprise when it does!

  3. Athanasia permalink

    I enjoyed your marriage knot. Its a good knot to keep nice and tight though, not like hour husband’s slip knot…easy to undo.

    We all like coffee here. My husband makes the pot every morning when he makes breakfast, seven days of the week. We like brewed, not instant, not decaf. He drinks his with cream no sugar. I drink mine with milk, no sugar. He pours the rest into his thermos and takes to his shop with him on work days. If I want coffee at work I can get it from the faculty lounge. Did you drink coffee growing up? There was always coffee until noon on the stove and then the tea kettle with hot water after lunch. We grew up drinking hot milk with coffee in it and doughnuts to dunk for a treat.

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