About Widow
Large Handbag Collector. Obscenely Expensive Shoe & Handbag Lover. Blonde. Redhead. Brunette. Breastfeeder. Pug-fox terrier belly scratcher. Drunken Break Dancer. Bartender of the stars. Semi Conscious Writer. Earth loving. Tori Amos Listening. Loud Mouth. Chef Loving Lady...
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I came home from Manhattan in sweet anticipation of my family’s embrace. Little did I know that I was walking into a hurricane.
When I had left for the BlogHer conference in New York City I thought the Chef and I were ok. He seemed better than ok. He had decided to take the weekend off to watch the kids. He doesn’t often get to spend one day alone with them, let alone three. I was worried, but I hid behind my smile, kissed the mini’s good-bye and drove away.
Three days later I came home to a tsunami.
At first it was joyous. We were happy and ecstatic to see each other. And then the sky darkened and all of the stress that had been drowning us for the past three months reappeared. Something simple started the fight. I yelled too quickly. He yelled back. It was on.
“You remind me of Liz and I, the only difference is that you fight more,” my friend Michael told me once. It’s true. We do fight more. Hell, we have known each other for 16 years. Our lives have been intertwined since we were teenagers. We have loved each other for a long time and that love does not come easy. Add two kids, two dogs, one crazy awesome restaurant, not to mention the Chef’s hours and you will find that love can sometimes get pushed aside.
We do it.
We push our love aside to get through the hard stuff. We ignore each other to focus on the immediate stuff: the kids, the recipes, the blog posts, the book, the TV show (that we never seem to land), the bills, the house, and the family. All of these trump our relationship sometimes because we let them. We forget about each other and then shit gets ugly.
This fight was the big one. We had to fix what was wrong. We had to stop ignoring each other and pushing our relationship aside. We talked and cried for hours. I found out that even though I am hella supportive, I don’t often focus on the good things. I tend to let the stress overwhelm me and then I blame it on the Chef. In turn, he shuts down. He doesn’t hear my pleas for help (because they usually come in the yelling form) and I get more stressed. He walks away when I feel I need him most. This cycle has been going on and off all summer. Not so fun.
So we talked more. We came up with a plan. We decided that our 16 years were worth fighting for. We figured out a way to stop fighting (as much, we may or may not enjoy the making up part a little too much;).
The Chef and I had each have one issue with other. I ask him to do something or change something and he ignores me. I get mad. I yell. I nag. It’s a vicious cycle when it’s starts and it is very hard to claw out of. Usually we end up falling down on the floor in giggles after we fight but that never really solves anything. Sure the makeup sex is phenomenal but the fighting itself is quite cumbersome.
So we decided to make our road to recovery fun. Fuck the fighting. It is soooooo high school yo.
Leaving on a jet plane this morning with the Chef. Gonna miss my babes but looking forward to spending the next four days here and here, sampling some delicious vin and spending time with these guys.
I will try to post while I am away but I’m not gonna make any promises.
In the meantime check out my Girfriend Getaway Adventure over at Chevy and don’t forget to check out Widow Faire, my Open Sky store that is going to be featured this week.
Happy Monday kiddies.
This weekend I met a man who didn’t understand blogging.
No offense he said as he waved his hand in my direction.
No offense.
I spoke with him for an hour about blogging, the internets, and social media. Everytime I spoke about how blogging was actually a huge reality in today’s world, he would wave that damn hand in my direction.
No offense.
I told him how our restie used social media to create a buzz TWO years before we were open. Two years. I told him how my facebook page helped me expand the readership of my blog nearly double. Your blog?
No offense.
I don’t no why anyone would read that dribble.
No offense.
I spoke to him about the younger generation who wanted information instantaneously and didn’t want to be bothered with old school scare sales tactics. I told him that the internet was in fact, the wave of the future.
I’ve been doing this for forty years. No offense.
By the time the conversation ended, I was not offended. I wanted to help him understand. He was my grandfather’s age. He grew up in a time without computers. Without the interwebs. Without social media. And he managed to create quite a successful business. But now that business had slowed down. The industry had taken a hit and couldn’t get back from it. Instead of looking at his own business model, he chose to blame the interwebs.
This blogging business has ruined our clientele.
No offense.
Time’s have changed old man. The internet is here to stay. Pretty sure Facebook ain’t going anywhere. And Twitter? It’s almost as addictive as the cigarettes I quit smoking 8 days ago (go me!) . Embrace them. Use them for that business you created so many years ago. Stop the salesman tactic. Change your marketing plan. Use. Social. Media.
And if you wave your hand in my direction one more time I’m gonna smack that bronzer right off of your old man face.
No offense.
Does your business or workplace integrate social media? Are you on the Twitter personally & professionally? I want to know.
Follow me on all the Twitter Book yo.
