HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1976-12-22, Page 12MERRY CHRISTMAS
,..MERRY CHRISTMAS
YOU.. —and keep this Christmas
Safe front fire. Take special care
with the tree ..,.stand it in water
discarded wrappings
away from 'the -tree ...keep
cigaretteS and matches at a safe
distance ... never leave small
children unattended....even for a
minute.
The faults of wives are many
Sugar and Spice
by Bill Smiley
A bicycle is• alwaysQa gift of'joy
for 'any child, 'and eXcellent
means of exercise for the, older
members of the family too.
But it is also important to select
the size of bike that the rider can
handle easily and safely and not
one that the rider. will "grow
,into."
A reliable guide for size: for a
child between S and 7 years,
usually a ^ bike with a 20-inch
wheel will do; for 8 - 10 years, a
24-inch wheel; for eleven and
older, a 26-inch wheel:
buy ,correct .size bike
. When the rider i
leg, thigh and •the he
(lute `down" pedal
a, straight line.
For ensured stabili
should be parallel to
the handlebars shpul
seat height, and the
be' at • right angle
handlebar system.
For further advice
ance, write to the De
Consumer and Corpor
781 Richmond St., Lo
N6A 3H4.
My wife and I had a terrific fight the
other night. She's always reading articles
and watching television panels, One week
it's how you can guarantee that your baby
will be a boy (or a girl). The next time it's
how to avoid dying in your sleep by positive
dreaming.
As you can imagine, some of these topics
don't really send me, and she . gets quite
annoyed when I don't wax sufficiently
enthusiastic.
I try to participate in the monologue by
reading her one of my favorite articles,
something like, "Is The Real John Turner
Just a Shy, Humble; , Little Boy
Underneath It All?"
She just retorts, "Who cares?" and
goes relentlessly back to her own article,
which this week was about battered wives,
The article was entitled "Couples That.
Batter Each Other Matter to Each Other,'
or something equally ridiculous. Its gist
was that married people who fight, even
physically, are far happier than. those who
hold in their resentments and become
psychologically warped as a result.
For once I made a stand. I told her, in
words to that effect, that that was a lot of
women's magazine, soap opera crap. I
went on to cite some or our friends who
used to batter each other regularly, and are
now happily divorced from each other and
remarried to. non-batterers.
For some reason this irked her. I don't
know whether it was the male chauvinistic
crack or the fact that some of her friends
are happier with a new mate, but she
started a fight.
Her article hadn't said anything about
battered husbands. I'll draw a veil over the
next few minute, for those with tender
sensibilities who have never been hit by a
sneak punch from a woman when they
weren't looking.
Anyway, when I had picked myself off
the floor, wiped the flood from my nose,
and locked myself safely in the bathroom, I
ussued an ultimatum. "If you ever lay a
finger on me again, I'm leaving. I'm going
home to your father."
Her reply:"Go ahead, you crumb! If you
walk out of his house, you'll n ever get back
in. It's in my name„.So's the car. I'll clean
out our joint account, garnishee your
salary, hire a lawyer, and put you on. Skid
Row, where you belong."
I needn't tell you here that she had
recently read some shyster's article about
how to go about doing just that to your
husband.
I was so mad that I was adamant for
quite a while. If there'd been a phone in
that bathroom, I'd have called the -police
for an escort and walked right out of there.
But there wasn't.
I ignored her 'further taunts, all of them
on a similarly low, despicable level,- and
maintained a dignified silence. She calls it
sulking. Fortunately, there was a good
paperback novel on the back of the toilet,
and I was soon absorbed.
She can't stand this. Bitter invective,
coarse comments, even bad language rolls
off her shoulders. But she nearly goes out
of her skull when there's nobody listening
to her.
Finally, "Do you wa, nt a cup of tea, you
cowar dly bum?"
I didn't make a sound for a full minute,
then grunted, "Maybe. What else?" I
meant a full apology and an abject
admission of her guilt in. instigating the
donnybrook.
"And a piece of apple: pie," she
snapped. "With cheddar cheese." I gave
up. How can you reason with someone like
that?
"Well, O.K. But no more battering,
baby, or I call the cops."
After a while, we had cooled out a fair
bit, and she got me an ice pack for my'
nose: I was willing to forget it, but
underneath I was still simmering, and I
entertained thoughts of cashing my two
$100 bonds the next day, skipping off to the
Canary Islands, and leaving her high and
dry.
But, like every woman I've ever met, she
wanted to "talk things out." Tifat's one of
the most disgusting phrases in the English
language. Right, chaps?
It- was finally decided that we'd each
make a list of our worst faults, let the
other have a look at the list, then try to .do
something about it,
I worked away assiduously for what
seemed hours, my tongue stuck out of one
corner of my mouth. My list went
something like this: •
(a)too ready to forgive wife; should be
firmer: ' •
b)too generous with my children; Must
be tighter.
c)too fond of grandchildren; must be
sterner
d)complain too much about arthritis;
should complain more about hemmorhoids
e)too ready to see good side of others;
must be more realistic.
Well, my list went on and on and on.
didn't realize what a truly rotten guy I waS,,,
'until I started to put it down. My wife'
finished fairly quickly, and resumed her
overt affair with her sewing machine (one
of the things that are driving us
apart.). Handed over my list. She
started to read it with a benign smile.The
smile began to curl down on the corners.
Her face got red. ,•
"Why, you lously little cockroach!". she
exploded. I didn't point out that she was
being redundant.
I'd like to tell you this little marital
drama had a happy ending, that* woupd
up in a clinch.
Well, it did wind up in a clinch. I had her
arms so tied up that Muhammad Ali
couldn't have thrown a punch in the same
situation. So she kneed me you know
where.
When I had stopped grunting, and got to
my knees, I picked up her list of faults,
which she'd thrown in my face as I lay
prostrate.
I half expected that she'd write
something like, "My only fault is that I
don't appreciate what a wonderful husband
I have."
It was a little shorter than that. It just
said, "None."
Our sleigh is overflowing w
holiday .wishes and
McGAVIN
FARM EQUIPMENT LTD.
WALTON
r -
Parker Plumbing 81-Heating!
887-6079 I
I
L Aim "•••• alonsi aim.* ilia. . ni;iMi
.isom :mom onir. aw.gri
lope goar
holidays will
lie filled with all
street things in lite.
Add oar thanks to your
Christmas goodies.
AY & HELENS
WEEKLY' SALE
BRUSSELS STOCKYARDS LTD.
EVERY FRIDAY
At 12 Noon
Phone 881ii6461
Brussels,
BRUSSELS POST litpEmitt-- 166