Tag Archives: money

“MACBETH” Act 4, Scene 3, Line 141*

8 May

blog image hamburglar

(* “Tis hard to reconcile.”)

Spouse said the  funniest sentence.  Or, rather, half sentence.  More like a fragment, really.

He began with: “when you reconciled the checking account…” and that’s all I heard.  I don’t know what he said next or what point he was trying to make because I stopped listening to him and started listening to my own brain as it began asking questions too.  Questions like: “reconcile?  Who uses a word like reconcile and what does “to reconcile” truly mean?  And what, if at all, does “reconciling” have to do with my accounting?  And why does Spouse keep staring at me like I, in my grip, doth the key to Heaven clutch?”

Note that I distinguish between “my accounting” and “my accounting thereof” because “my accounting thereof” is a phrase that I often use when answering Spouse’s more specific questions like: “what did you do with the money I already gave you?”  Answer: “you mean those few dollars that I took from your wallet?  A, you gave me nothing- I took those dollars and B, we are done talking about money, your wallet and my accounting thereof.”

Conversely, “my accounting” is how I would answer a different question like if Alex Trebek were to say “this person totally knows for whom the caged bird sings,” I would buzz in with: “is it Maya Counting?”

(I doubt that Alex Trebek would ever use the word “totally” but you can’t be sure.  Mr. Trebek has done some wild stuff including chasing down hotel room burglars in the nude.  For the record, Alex Trebek was naked.  I’m sure the crook was, at least, wearing a mask.)  Notice how I put my answer in the form of a question, though.

As for my personal accounting method, well, that’s what the ATM is for.  You go there and ask it for money.  If it says no, you keep working down until you hit a number upon which you both agree.  If it tells you to come inside, leave.

As for Quicken?  Until I met Spouse, I was pretty sure that Quicken was one of Santa’s reindeer.  Speaking of Santa (thereof), only 220 shopping days until my birthday.  (But really aren’t they all shopping days?)

And as for reconciling and such?

I keep telling Spouse that in order for a reconciliation to happen, a break up must first occur.

And that I can do.  

That Spouse.  He sure is funny.

Karma and The Golden Globes

16 Jan

blog image golden globe

Re: Karma.  Don’t you love when this happens to you:

Six years ago, Spouse met a Guy on a plane.  The Guy was like any of us- fumbling through life, drinking cheap wine and waiting for a sign.  Well, he was like any English major I’ve ever known, anyway.

Lacking either a plan or money, The Guy moves to Paris, marries a model, has two kids, moves to Australia then returns to the US whereupon his wife opens an Ayurveda smoothie/pet spa and becomes “the” darling of the Los Angeles Ayurveda-celebrity-pet-smoothie-spa set while I’m still trying to complete a bathroom renovation and get my now six years older car to pass inspection.

And it’s not that we don’t appreciate Ayurveda pet smoothie bars in upstate NY, it’s just that we prefer whole milk all the time.

Fast forward to Sunday night when, while channel-surfing, Spouse spots The Guy at The Golden Globe Awards.  The Golden Globes which, I suspect, have little to do with either geography or transition metals but seem to attract a tanned, relaxed, champagne-sipping crowd.

“There’s The Guy!” he yelled.

“That isn’t fair!” I cried.

And by “that,” I meant “life.”

And by “isn’t,” I meant “is not.”

And it’s true: life is not fair.

Never was, never will be- it’s just that being reminded stinks.

But, like good luck, justice and sweatpants, karma also has an ebb and flow.  (Well, maybe not the sweatpants.  There’s no excuse for sweatpants.)

So, occasionally, when all my pontificating and prognosticating, all the contemplations and reflections on living that I have blathered at my kid (ad nauseam- just ask him and hold for the eye roll), the advice, the pep-talks, the verbiage in/verbiage out, the blow-hardness of my very existence, all of it, comes back at me with the force of a statuette to the face and the kid asks: “What?  He looks like a nice guy.”

I remember that karma works.

And I love when good karma happens to me.

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