Sunday, March 15, 2009


This evening I was reminded once again of why my husband and I do not work together.

I freely admit that I take ownership of my projects. Okay, maybe domineering. Alright, alright, BOSSY. Dictatorial. Arrogant. But to my credit, at least I acknowledge that I AM bossy about things that I am in charge of.

Tonight, it was one of MY projects, since our local greasy-spoon is being forced to shut its doors.

I should be sorry that I cannot paint it as a five-star suave posh restaurant.
But a great deal of the charm of the Palominas Trading Post is the life-sized carved wooden Indian - the furrowing plow on the wall behind the soda machine - the dilapidated outward appearance of a delightful dinner.
And Pam's pie is to die for - Bill and I go every single Saturday morning for pancakes and Pam's "Camp Fire" omelet - every single Thanksgiving John and Pam hold a turkey dinner with all the trimmings for anyone who doesn't have a family to spend the holiday with... at no charge.

Since they are closing this week, I suggested some close of 'farewell' time, and so this Saturday the Palominas Trading Post will be hosting a pot-luck luncheon (so Pam doesn't have to cook) and just have a nice gathering of regulars.
I made some signs and some posters, and was going out this late afternoon to post them on the highway leading to the PTP.
My husband was looking his forlorn-why-are-you-deserting-me-on-a-beautiful-Sunday-afternoon look, so I asked if he wanted to come along.
My first mistake.
I thought it was pretty clear that these were my posters, and my project, and I was going to do it, and he was just along for the ride and wonderful company (no one can ever say I don't have a great self-image and secure ego, right?).
So when I asked, at the third stop, for his assistance in getting one of the poster higher for better visibility, I assumed the chain-of-command was fairly obvious and would be honored.
Our 'cooperation' lasted maybe 45 seconds, and while we didn't drive home in a huff, it was mainly because I simply stopped after this poster and drove us home.
We can go places, we can enjoy things, we just simply cannot work together.


Harmony said...

maybe it had to do with the posters--did they say "Woman in mumu cooks for you?" No? Well there's your first problem. Dad is normally an absolute joy to work with.

Annette said...

Too bad the diner has to close its doors, I hope the potluck is fun. Working together can be fun, Hope!