Elizabeth Bernstein reports on the ongoing low level intensity conflict that is two married people in the kitchen:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB20001424052748703494404575081313493773140.html. The news for all of you folks who are either newly married or thinking about living with someone for a long time is that you may not have to resort to firearms or knives in dealing with kitchen or food items, but the issue will always be in doubt. Marriage is said to be the art of learning to compromise and adjust with your partner but they should add a special section when it comes to the kitchen that counsels on the correct procedure for calling in an air strike on your own position. I speak on this with a measured sense of experience and also the realization that nowhere is passive aggressive behavior and outright hostility metered out more proficiently than the modest distance between the stove and the refrigerator. To be brief, Mrs. Bulba grew up on the Texas-Mexico border (you can hit Tampualipas with a 5 wood from her family's front door) where maids were both inexpensive and could be counted on for cooking duty. As a consequence, cooking for her is pretty much a job and if she's going to do it, something reasonably healthy will be the result. Contrast that with Mr. Bulba, whose Alabama born mother stood ever ready to make sure her only son had the best in lard smothered fried goodness. The trench lines have moved some through the years--I threw in the towel on the fried stuff and she's figured out that if I have to fix something for myself, I'll do something classically childish like leaving the dirty dishes in the sink instead of rinsing and placing them in the dishwasher. But, it's the salt shaker that remains constantly in contention (see Bernstein's article). If this were a real war, thousands of lives would have already been wasted for that small piece of space on the table. I retrieve my favorite shaker from the spice cabinet each morning and she returns it there at the end of each day. To me, it's utilitarian and works. To her, it's ugly and I don't need the stuff. I guess it's a battle that won't end until one of us dies or Al Gore calls for the end of salt mining. I could go on, but you get the picture.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB20001424052748703494404575081313493773140.html. The news for all of you folks who are either newly married or thinking about living with someone for a long time is that you may not have to resort to firearms or knives in dealing with kitchen or food items, but the issue will always be in doubt. Marriage is said to be the art of learning to compromise and adjust with your partner but they should add a special section when it comes to the kitchen that counsels on the correct procedure for calling in an air strike on your own position. I speak on this with a measured sense of experience and also the realization that nowhere is passive aggressive behavior and outright hostility metered out more proficiently than the modest distance between the stove and the refrigerator. To be brief, Mrs. Bulba grew up on the Texas-Mexico border (you can hit Tampualipas with a 5 wood from her family's front door) where maids were both inexpensive and could be counted on for cooking duty. As a consequence, cooking for her is pretty much a job and if she's going to do it, something reasonably healthy will be the result. Contrast that with Mr. Bulba, whose Alabama born mother stood ever ready to make sure her only son had the best in lard smothered fried goodness. The trench lines have moved some through the years--I threw in the towel on the fried stuff and she's figured out that if I have to fix something for myself, I'll do something classically childish like leaving the dirty dishes in the sink instead of rinsing and placing them in the dishwasher. But, it's the salt shaker that remains constantly in contention (see Bernstein's article). If this were a real war, thousands of lives would have already been wasted for that small piece of space on the table. I retrieve my favorite shaker from the spice cabinet each morning and she returns it there at the end of each day. To me, it's utilitarian and works. To her, it's ugly and I don't need the stuff. I guess it's a battle that won't end until one of us dies or Al Gore calls for the end of salt mining. I could go on, but you get the picture.
War is Hell.
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