Real Joe

A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous. – Ingrid Bergman

Yeah. Which is maybe why a left-brained (closeted right-brained?) guy like me appreciates them.

I wonder if I’m as left-brained as I’ve always thought?

Most people would say that men tend to be left-brained thinkers and women tend to be right-brained thinkers. This misperception can inhibit men’s acceptance of their true nature.

I stumbled on this Men’s Web article that challenges the common notion.

Asked why most of us are confused about which gender thinks which way, Patricia gave an example dealing with emotions. We generally believe that women are more in touch with their emotions than are men because women talk more about their emotions. Patricia pointed out that this just indicates that women are better able to describe their emotions; that their natural verbal skills make this easier. Of course, being left-brained, women may also be more likely to put their emotions into verbal categories, and so they may actually be less in touch with their emotions than are men. The right-brained men, meanwhile, do not find it as easy to attach words to emotions and so do not talk about what they feel.

No, not at work. At romance. This Newhouse News article, More men getting in touch with their romantic sides, is a good reminder that romance just doesn’t happen by itself once you’ve been married for a while.

“Impulse buying of flowers is at an all-time high, with 30 percent of flower purchases by men in 2001 not linked to any special occasion.”

That’s cool. See, we’re not all Neanderthals.

“…simple gestures can be more touching than an expensive gift or elaborate event.”

Two years ago I hid a series of “I love you” Post-It notes in my wife’s luggage when she went on a trip. She still has several of them stuck to her computer monitor.

“I feel like I should be more romantic… It’s not that intense crush that you used to have. You have to work harder as you get older.”

Last Saturday, we spent the afternoon walking in the fall colors, had dinner at Fermentations, a new French bistro and wine bar in Dundas, and then rented a DVD. After the movie, she turned to me on the stairs and said, “I really enjoyed the day with you” and then gave me a juicy kiss. Can’t get much more romantic than that for me.

Sad is his lot, who, once at least in his life, has not been a poet. – Alphonse Marie Louis de Prat de Lamartine

I used to try to read and write poetry, but not any more. Maybe I’m too literal, too left-brained. I figure I’ll keep my brain open to the idea of poetry, but for now, the hell with it.

Pre-peak fall colors (see entire photo gallery) are best, IMHO. And I’ve been taking time to get out and enjoy them with the digital camera I’ve bartered for with Norman Butler at The Contented Cow.

Maybe I’m just getting better at paying attention, but both the sumac and the tree vines seem more brilliant red this year than usual.

When I get out for a walk in the Carleton Arb or drive my daughter to school, the contrast with the still-green grass and leaves, along with the yellowing corn, soybeans, and various weeds continues to amaze me, even though I’ve lived around here my entire life.

I discovered this Elm tree last fall in the Upper Arb, encased in a flaming red wrap of vines. I’ve been waiting for it to peak this year, and it’s pretty close. A shot at sunset would be better but it’s been cloudy at dusk for the past week and I might not get it.

The camera slows me down and keeps my brain from drifting when I’m out for a walk, but so does a walk with my wife. She’s way better at noticing small stuff — a mushroom, a fungus, spots on leaves, a single flower. I tend to notice bigger stuff, like this spot in the Lower Arb near the Waterford Bridge where a stand of red (Norway) pines transports me to the forests around Lake Superior, or the nearby “tunnel trail.”

Life’s good. I’m lucky. Things change. Go Twins.

No man is useless who has a friend, and if we are loved we are indispensable. - Robert Louis Stevenson

Cool. I’m lucky, then.

This Joyce Mitchard column from last week about women and their weight caught my attention. “But a loving husband should be a real trooper about his wife’s efforts to lose weight.”

I’m trying to figure out how to be supportive but I’m not sure how. So far, I just listen.

This is Mitchard’s third column in the last two months on women and their bodies. She gave away a red dress that no longer fit and then got Botox injections.

The Arlo & Janis cartoon for today captures some of the still-mysterious interaction between my wife and I when it comes to her clothes.

I’d say more but she’s out of town… and our agreement is that we first talk about anything involving our relationship that I want to post to this weblog. Stay tuned.

Ritual is routine infused with mindfulness. It is habit made holy. – Kent Nerburn

That’s taken from the chapter “Of Coffee Mugs and Monks” in his book Small Graces: the Quiet Gifts of Everyday Life. I’ve tried to do his “raise the coffee mug to the dawn” ritual a few mornings in the past week, sitting in a rocking chair that faces the east. I like it. Tomorrow, I think I’ll actually find a spot to drink my coffee where I can see the sun come up… at 7:12 AM.

Time to initiate a monthly pitch. Maybe even more often.

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