In which Primo sort of cleans the house

Primo: I didn't vacuum the dining room. We're not eating in there tonight [with our friends who are spending the night].

Me: But aren't you having some political people over on Sunday?

Primo: Yes.

Me: And the living room and dining room won't be vacuumed.

Primo: No.

Me: Please make sure your political friends know that you are the person in charge of vacuuming in this house, not me.

In which Primo talks to a guy whose dying best friend asked him to date his wife once he was dead

Totally not making this up.

I don't make anything up on this blog. I do not have that much of an imagination. I am but a stenographer.

Primo: I talked to this guy last night - I have been getting to know him and we are becoming friends.

Me: Uh huh.

Primo: He said that when his best friend was dying - this was last year, he asked Zach if he would date Carrie, his wife, once the best friend was dead.

Me: That is so sad! And so touching!

Primo: I know! He wanted his wife to be with someone nice.

Me: What a great guy - to worry about what happens to his wife when he is dead.

Primo: It's really sweet.

Me: So what happened? Are Zach and Carrie dating?

Primo: No!

Me: Why not?

Primo: Because two days after the friend died, Carrie came on to Zach! He was so horrified that he hasn't had anything to do  with her since.

In which Primo gets a lovely donation from friends of mine from the Peace Corps, even though we did not ask them for anything

Primo and I went to the state capital (capitol? I can never remember) for a concert and visited some of my Peace Corps friends, who live there, before the concert. Arthur and Betty are 92 years old. They have lived in the same house for over 60 years. It is a simple little house that they built when they got married. They don't have a  bunch of junk. It is like the model house to Sly and Doris' Glamor Don't of a house. Arthur and Betty do not have any junk! Any!

Oh - some background. They joined the Peace Corps when they were almost 70. They had retired and weren't done working yet. Everyone in our group loved them. They are sweet, nice people.

Betty insisted on cooking dinner for us, even though I had told her we would pick up something at a restaurant and take it to their house. When I invite myself to someone's house, I do not want to create extra work for her. But she wanted to cook and I could not persuade her otherwise. I did, however, take homemade cookies - rosemary and pine nut, chocolate with ground pepper - and some pear jam I had made from the pear tree in our back yard.

She wrote me a note later - "What herb is that in the cookies? Rosemary? And the chocolate cookies taste very zippy!"

You can have a good palate when you are 92 and don't drink or smoke. Nope, there was no alcohol at supper. Arthur, Betty, and Daisy, their daughter, had milk, Primo and I had water.

They live modestly. Their house is on the lake. The neighborhood has changed since the first time I saw it 15 years ago, when the other houses were just as modest. Now, those houses have been torn down and replaced with McMansions - they are not building any more lakefront property - and neighbors who complain about Arthur and Betty's house as an eyesore.

It is not an eyesore. It is modest and simple and perfect.

What was my point?

Oh. So. Anyhow. My friends, whom I have known for over 20 years, and who have been retired for a long time and don't have a lot of money - Arthur worked for the state in a research lab at the university - wrote a check for $150 to Primo's campaign.

They are both passionately interested in politics. Primo actually met Daisy at some political events. He had already met Arthur and Betty, so when he heard that Daisy had the same last name as A and B, he asked if she was related. She was. Small world.

We spent supper talking about politics - not my favorite but they were fascinated by Primo's campaign and know who his opponent is. That's what they wanted to talk about and they are nice and polite and we were guests and they are my friends so even though I hate talking about politics, with them, we talked about politics. They talked, I listened.

And we told them the story about the donation from the Teamsters and how grateful we were because we had been worrying about having to pay ourselves.

A few minutes later, Arthur got up, went to the kitchen counter, pulled out his checkbook, wrote a check, and handed it to Primo.

I did not want them to give us money! I want them to use their money on themselves. I think they live an intentionally modest life, but I also think their income is not that much. I also know that Arthur has been having some spells of confusion and I most of all would not want to take advantage of someone's memory problems.

I pulled Daisy aside and said, "We won't cash it, OK?"

She smiled and said, "Don't worry. It's OK."

I hope she's right.

And I wonder about how it is that some people - my mom, Arthur and Betty - have not very much but are generous with what they have and other people - Sly and Doris - have enough to buy lots of booze every week and pay for a maid and a gardener and invest $280,000 in a restaurant -  but won't even consider telling Primo that they would like to see him and would send him a plane ticket if he would just come.

In which Primo doesn't want to kiss me

Primo: I can't kiss you! You're all germy.

Me: Oh for pete's sake. It's a cold. (But not a Man Cold.)

Primo: I can't get sick!

Me: It's not like you kiss me anyhow.

Primo: What? I kiss you!

Me: Nah. Not like before. It's all gotten kind of perfunctory.

Primo: What do you mean?

Me: Oh you know. We have a little pattern - a routine.

Primo: Are you saying our love life is boring?

Me: Well. Sort of.

Primo: What - you want to have an affair to spice things up?

Me: Are you crazy? The last thing I need is something else to suck away my precious free time.

In which Primo's campaign gets a very nice donation from a group

Remember I was worried that Primo and I would end up paying the campaign debts from our own money, not because we would have any legal obligation but because the money would be owed to friends who had done work for the campaign and we really can't treat our friends like that?

The Teamsters just gave him a multi-thousand dollar check.

We are covered.

Whew.

Primo is impressed that the check is signed by James Hoffa, but I look at that and think, Well, at least they have decent financial controls.

In which I tell Primo that if he cancels our friends' visit in one week because of a political event that I will divorce him

Primo: Oh no!

Me:

Primo: Oh no!

Me [trying not to get involved]

Primo: Oh no!

Me: What?

Primo: The governors' debate is the same night B and G are visiting us!

Me: So?

Primo: But it's here! In town! I want to go to it!

Me: But we already - over a month ago - invited our friends* to stay with us that night so they don't have to get up so early to catch their plane the next morning.

Primo: But the debate! I really want to go! I should have known not to plan anything social during the campaign.

Me: I am not cancelling another social engagement with our friends.**

Primo: But the debate....

Me: If you cancel with B and G, I will divorce you.




* Who have a lake house about an hour from here. They are wonderful friends who have been great hosts to Primo and me many times. They had a super-early flight and would have had to get up a whole extra hour early to leave from their house instead of ours, so I was happy to be able to host them.

** Months ago, I had to reschedule dinner at our house three times and then had to call the friends and ask them to be late the night they actually did come because Primo kept having political BS come up.

In which Primo's flight is delayed and he just misses seeing Major Political Figure

I checked the flight status when I got up and saw that Primo's flight was no longer arriving at 9:22 but would be in at 9:39 instead. I picked him up a few minutes after the plane landed.

"You don't have to take me to the bus stop," I said. "I brought a book. I will find a coffee shop while you go to the event."

He got in the driver's seat, plugged in the radar detector, and we flew down the highway. At 10:14, we were parking two minutes away from the party HQ where Major Political Figure would be speaking.

"Don't worry," I said. "Surely she would not be at this hour-long even for just ten minutes."

I went to get coffee. Primo ran to the event.

Thirty minutes later, he called me.

"I missed her."

"What?"

"I missed her. She walked out two minutes before I got there."

I was confused. "But the event didn't even start until 10! It was supposed to last an hour!"

"She spoke from 10 until 10:10. Then she left. She must have been driving away just as I was walking in the door."

"But that's so unfair! You went through so much effort to see her!"

"That's how it is with these national people. They throw a bone to the local people, but they don't want to waste time with us. Most of her time will be with the big money people."

And this is the industry you want to join? I wanted to ask.

In which Primo rearranges everything so he can see a major political figure who will be in town

Primo went to visit Sly and Doris because Doris has been ill - lots of diarrhea (sorry - TMI - but I have to give you some context) and he was really worried that she might not live very long. She is a little bit better - she has not been eating, but some of that is because she just prefers to drink, but no matter what I think of her and Sly, I do not want her to suffer. I just want her to be nice. I want Sly to be nice. I want to have nice in-laws who are happy and who are nice to my husband and do not threaten to disinherit and disown him for not keeping me in line.

Two days after Primo bought his tickets to visit Sly and Doris - a visit he had not planned on making until spring (I know it is spring now but it is October when I am writing this) but made because he was so worried, he discovered that a Major Political Figure whom he really admires - he bought her book and actually read it (he reads voraciously, but not books - I have seen him read only three books since we met - The Gathering Storm, when we were on vacation and he could not get an internet connection, The Kite Runner, when we were on a flight back from Morocco and he could not get an internet connection, and the book written by MPF) and quotes her to me a lot. It's not Michelle Obama, BTW. This woman is actually accomplished. Not Hillary, either. But almost that level.

Dang. I forgot my verb again. Anyhow, after he got the tickets, he discovered that MPF would be in town the morning of his return. He was not supposed to return until the afternoon. He couldn't change his ticket without paying a huge fee. As I am already not happy about the pay cut our household has taken, the idea of paying money to change plane tickets that he had just purchased for a trip I did not even want him to take did not go over well and to his credit, he did not even suggest it.

But then he discovered that he could change his ticket for no fee if there was a seat available less then 24 hours before the flight. The flight he would have to change to leaves the airport super early, which meant he would need to be up at 4 a.m., which is when he sometimes - not infrequently - is going to bed. But he really really wanted to see MPF.

I was not so happy about this because it would mean that instead of picking him up early in the afternoon, I would have to get him early in the morning and I already had plans for the morning. Like, sleeping late and goofing off and maybe going to watch the UT-OU game with some UT alums in the area.

Friday afternoon, I got an email from him. He had gotten on the flight.

And life was getting more complicated for me as a result.

(Primo said wistfully today that it would be nice to be married to someone who puts the spouse's campaign first and I replied that 1. he should have married a trust fund brat from his party if that's what he wanted and 2. I put having health insurance and a roof over our heads ahead of politics.)

He wrote,

I need to ask you for a favor: Please take my sportcoat (the dark blue one that's on the hanger with my tan dress pants) to the airport, and (if I'm on time) I would like you to go to [the event] with me from the airport. MPF will be there for a 10 a.m. event. That's the one I should try to attend because it's in the district.

I rolled my eyes and told him that sure, I would take his jacket but I had no intention of attending the event with him.

"But I get three political events this campaign!" he said. "This could be the last one."

"Not with less than 24 hours' notice," I said.

"That wasn't in the rules before."

"I am changing the rules," I answered.

We agreed that he would drop me at a bus stop on the way to the event and I would just take the bus home.

So I got home from work and found the sportcoat and hung it over the shower curtain rod. Then I did other getting home from work stuff, ate an apple pecan blue cheese salad, and started watching season 2 of Orphan Black.

As Cosima was coughing up blood, the phone rang.

It was Primo.

Could I also bring his shoes? And the argyle tan socks that were not to be found in the sock drawer but instead were in the middle of the could be worn at least once more before washing stack of clothes on his dresser? And that blue tie with the red stripe? And the tan pants?

If he had time, he would change clothes completely, but if he didn't have time, he would just throw the sport coat on with his jeans and button down.

OK OK OK.

And there was no apparent complaining about me from his parents. His dad needs knee replacement surgery. I asked at what point does someone - someone who is 81 years old and in very poor health otherwise - that it does not make sense to have knee replacement surgery.

Then I suggested that Primo might want to get some sleep before catching his early plane. He agreed and I returned to the show.

In which I find yet another reason to hate politics

You guys, I am going to write about the stresses on a marriage that result when the party of the first part quits his perfectly good job and the party of the second party almost passes out from fear and the fighting that ensues - fighting that the party of the first part actually admits is fighting, which he usually does not do about disagreement, and which includes POTSP telling POTFP that if he had quit to go into used car sales instead of politics that there would be some degree of respectability in the whole thing, but I am not going to write about that tonight.

Tonight, I just want to tell you that although I really like the guy who sent this postcard to Primo and this is not about him at all, I am not pleased that anyone is asking Primo for money.

The postcard, which I photographed and have been trying to download but I GIVE UP, says merely,

Primo,
Could you consider this a request?

It is not pushy. It is in writing instead of in person, which makes it easier to decline. As far as asks go, you couldn't find something more tactful.

But I do not want to donate money to anyone. I want them to give money to us.

In which Primo finally quits his job and there is some blowback

Primo: Would you cut a pear for me?

Me: Nope.

Primo: Why not?

Me: Because I don't want to. Cut it up yourself.

Primo: But you're really good at cutting pears!

Me: Yeah, well, you're really good at making money. But you're not doing that any more, are you?

Primo: I had to have a break.

Me: Well, I am taking a break from cutting up fruit. If you want to go back to work, I will go back to cutting up pears.

In which Primo goes to visit Sly and Doris even though it is in the middle of the campaign - not because they threatened (again) to disinherit him but because Doris is not eating and Primo is worried she might die soon

Primo has decided to quit his job (did I tell you that?) and his last day is soon but he spoke to Sly and Doris and Doris is sick. She has lost about ten pounds - she is already thin - because she isn't eating - she drinks, instead - and she has diarrhea. Primo is worried, so even though it's only a month until the election and he had not planned to visit them again for at least eight months, he is going.

He is also going to take a steak - "My dad says that the steaks at their store are bad" - to which I say, "Your dad is never happy with anything. Has he considered that perhaps he is the X in the equation?"

The last time Primo took a steak, it did not end well. Primo took one of our Good Steaks with him, going through a lot of effort to get it there, and arguing that I was wrong, that they would appreciate it, and that he should make the effort to take one of our limited-supply steaks for people who are heavy drinkers and former smokers and who therefore have no taste buds left at all.

I don't think we should go through any effort at all for Sly and Doris, as they never appreciate it and as they really don't deserve it. Who wants to do nice things for mean people?

But Primo took a Good Steak and he grilled it for them and they ate it and they said that it was not all that.

We have served the Good Steaks to many of our friends and everyone has always raved. Maybe our friends are liars but are just nice, but even if that's the case, our friends cared enough about Primo's feelings to lie.

Sly and Doris think so little of Primo's feelings that they did not even say, "Wow, Son, thank you for going through such great effort to get a steak halfway across the country just for us. We sure are lucky to have a son who loves us so much that he does nice things like that."

So I advised him not to take a steak again but he will anyhow, although at least this time he just bought a steak at the grocery store and will not waste one of our Good Steaks on ingrates.

He plans to talk to them about their plans, which, if you will remember, have in the past been that Primo would take care of them. That has never been Primo's plan. Or mine.

In which Primo maintains that politics is not a hobby and I say that it is

I say that politics is definitely a hobby when it comes to determining who is responsible for doing the housework, especially if the party of the first part - Primo - is going to quit his perfectly good job to campaign, leaving the party of the second part - me - to earn all the money in the house.

He gets all indignant when I say that politics is a hobby and that he, as the stay at home spouse, will be in charge of cleaning the bathroom and doing the laundry and washing the kitchen floor and buying the food and making supper.

He gets all huffy and says that politics is Important and it's a Cause and I say it's all bullshit and all I want the government to do is make sure the roads and schools are good and to stay out of my life unless it is going to clean my house.

I say unless your cause comes with dental and a 401k, it's a hobby.

In which Primo and I conduct an analysis of all the time that was wasted because he went to a forum presented by the League of Concerned Women

1. Primo had to drive me to work the morning of the forum because it was raining and I couldn't ride my bike. It took him 30 minutes to take me there and 30 minutes to get home.

2. I had to take the bus home instead of driving myself or riding my bike. Because the bus runs only every two hours by my new office, I had to stay at work an hour late.

3. Primo had to drive 47 miles to get to the forum.

4. But first he had to spend the day doing research on issues he might need to address. People who don't have People to do their research and prep work and People who have real jobs don't just know all this stuff by heart: they have to read and read and read and that means they don't get their paying work done which means they stay up late or work on weekends.

5. Once he got to the forum, the Concerned Women told him that because his opponent had not appeared, Primo would not be allowed to answer any questions. But yes please he could stay for the two hours of the forum.

6. Primo drove 47 miles home.

Total hours lost:

1. 30 minutes plus 30 minutes
2. One hour plus the time I had to wait for the bus plus the time walking home from the bus stop
3. One hour
4. Four hours
5. Two hours
6. One hour

Total hours lost: At least ten.

Thank you, League of Concerned Women. We will not be doing business with you again.

In which Primo gets all teary and lovey dovey because I agreed that he could quit his job

Primo called Sam to tell him he was quitting his job to be a full time politician. Sam was not as excited about this as Primo was. Sam and I are of one mind about this, but if we can afford it, I cannot in fairness say that Primo should not get a shot at a career change. I've sure done it. I have had adventures, but then, I did not make an ill-advised marriage at the age of 24.

Primo and I have done the numbers. We have looked at our savings and my salary. We have made spreadsheets and argued and I have been dramatic BECAUSE I LIKE HAVING MONEY. We have done more analysis about this decision than Sly and Doris ever did before giving $280,000 - yes, you read that right - to Jack to start his restaurant. Everyone knows that one of the best investments EVAH is a restaurant! Nobody ever loses money on a restaurant!

Primo comes downstairs from talking to Sam. I know he was talking to him because he has a special Talking To My Best Friend Voice. He always sounds happy when he is talking to Sam. They have been best friends since almost the first days of college. Sam is the only person I know who Primo is never mad at. Well, there were those times in college when Sam was - ahem - sleeping with the girl Primo liked, but now that that woman is on husband #3, Primo has realized that perhaps he dodged a bullet.

Primo comes downstairs and finds me in the bedroom, where I am sitting on the bed reading. He throws himself facedown onto the mattress, hugs my legs, and says, "You are the only person who has ever given me a chance to pursue my dreams. You are the only person who has been willing to support me. Isabel, my parents - they all want me to take care of them. You are the only person who has ever done this for me. I am so lucky to be married to you and I am so grateful."

So that was nice.

In which Primo finally has coffee with that kid who wants to run for county government in the same district where Primo wants to run

We already knew that the kid wasn't going to run.

Wait. He's not a kid. He's 23. When I was 23, I had been out of college for two years already. I had found and rented my own apartments several times already. Moved myself from Big City 1 to Medium Sized City 2. Made my own doctor appointments. Done my own laundry. Gotten my own renters insurance. Made my own will. (Oh yes I had a will.)

Twenty three is not kid.

So this young man - we will have to give him a name, but not yet because I have to think of a name I will actually remember. I can never remember what I have called people here.

This young man, we had heard from Very Connected Person, was not going to run.

But he still wanted to meet with Primo. I guess he didn't know that Primo knew he wasn't going to run and I guess he didn't think he could just tell him over the phone or send him an email. Both of those means are so last century.

Instead, he wanted to meet in person, which made me roll my eyes because good grief doesn't he know Primo has a job? (At least for now he has a job.) And that people with jobs cannot be dropping everything to go meet someone for coffee. That is not how things work.

Reader, prepare yourself. There is a plot twist ahead.

Not only does this young man not intend to run against Primo - he wants to run Primo's campaign.

Yes. He is bowing out of the race but wants to help Primo win.