Friday, January 14, 2005

Control is Overrated

Abe (hereafter referred to as Bubber-boo), Gouda and I are team Shake Daddy’s Center. It’s awesome. Daddy (aka Steak Knife or SK) throws his weight around and Bubber-boo, Gouda and I all disregard most of what he says. At one moment in time, Bubber could be playing in Gouda’s water while Gouda chews on something he’s not supposed to and I lackadaisically sit at the table and listen to All Things Considered while sipping on my tea with my chin is my hand quietly muttering things we need to get done over the weekend. Steak Knife clarifies that “we” really means “him” while ripping the non-chewable away from Gouda and scooping Bubber out of the dog dish. Or that moment could look this way: Gouda is trouncing around with his leash in his mouth playing Hot Lava while Bubber-boo is turning the television on and off and on and off and on and off while I make a list of whatever I’m making a list of that day (my favorite past-time, List Making). Or: Gouda and I are playing “I Want That Bone!” and racing around the house, up and down the stairs while Bubber-boo plays with his train in a way that was “not intended”, according to SK.

All of this is incredibly disconcerting to Steak Knife. You see, if you know him well, you also know that he likes things a certain way and all of this frenetic activity kind of sets him a little off kilter. He seems to enjoy the “non-centeredness” that he experiences by living in our household of lunatics that slip easily from moment to moment in disarray. But it also makes him really tired sometimes. I think it takes courage to live a life that is slightly uncomfortable to you but really reaps the best rewards; one full of love and compassion and noise and clutter. I could honestly see Steak Knife, if we hadn’t met, living a solitary life of books, music, slippers and a big leather chair to enjoy all of these things. Maybe a fine luxury car and time to write too. His home would be organized and warm, but quiet. But he chose our life full of dirty floors and lists and wet arms from the dog dish and mats that need brushing and sheets that should have been changed LAST WEEK, let alone THIS WEEK. Such a lucky man, he is. I think he’d say so too.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love trying to retrain a control freak into appreciating the chaos of life. Makes for a fun-filled marriage, and I would not have it any other way.

9:29 AM  
Blogger mister williams said...

I am not a control freak, but it is diconcerting to live in a home where everyone and everything maintains a constant role of rebellion. Libby doesn't listen. Gouda doesn't listen. The only one that has an excuse is Abe, because he's just doing what he's suppose to do at this age, not listen. If everyone in the world would just listen to me everything would be better.

11:26 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Isn't the phrase "I am not a control Freak" indicative of a control freak?

Donna, who excels at starting trouble.

12:42 PM  
Blogger Aerenchyma said...

I'm with you on this one Donna. I think it's akin to the "I'm cool" statement. If you say it, you most likely are not. If you say you're not a control freak...well, you most likely are.

1:21 PM  
Blogger Amy McWeasel said...

I bet that each of your tendencies drive the other to distraction, but I bet it also provides a good balance: SK tries to bring order out of chaos, and everyone else in the household makes sure he's not too uptight. :-)

I myself am an ordered person. I can't relax unless everything is in its place, and when at home would prefer a well ordered sanctuary. However, dashes of chaos make life more interesting. As long as the chaos remains outside the sanctuary, I am a happy gal. Bring the chaos into the sanctuary, and I get worked up because if the chaos is in the world and at home...where can peace and serenity be found? But that's just me.

At any rate, your household sounds wonderful and full of love. It's a nice place to hang out, and I bet Abe likes it there very much.

4:27 PM  

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