Eric had run out of lotion and while standing in the store aisle, I was pondering which to buy since the good ol’ generic, unscented brand was sold out; when my eye lighted upon a large bottle of Queen Helene cocoa butter.  In my heart of hearts I was glad the unscented stuff was gone, I use it too and wanted an excuse to buy something scented.  To add to the bonus of buying this lotion, it was cheaper too… you, know, a good $.25 at least.

When I got it home, I quickly stuffed it under the sink in its special lotion home and hoped there wouldn’t be a fuss.  There wasn’t until I said something.  Eric had already slathered it on his face, hands, and back when I took some to use.  The first squirt out of the bottle I took a little sniff.  I loved it, it reminded me of something.  Then I hit upon it.  “Oh my goodness, Eric, this lotion smells just like this My Little Pony I had.  She was purple with a white ice cream cone on her butt.”  His face was already beginning to contort.  Then I busted up laughing.  “You smell like a My Little Pony,” I said in peals of laughter.  “But,” I said wiping tears from my eyes, “it’s OK no one should be that close to you to smell it.”  As though this would fix things.

I know asking him to use lotion at all was pushing my luck but I had suggested it sometime after being married when his hands were crack and bleeding.  “They make lotion for that kind of thing,” I told him, “it’s not a gimmick, it really works.”

So reluctantly he used some and had been hooked ever since.  Apparently not so hooked that he’ll smell like a My Little Pony.  “I think this can be your lotion,” he said.  He worked hard to get the last bit of lotion residue out of the unscented bottle till there really was none left.

One day he came home from work with a Walgreens bag in hand.  “I,” he said pulling a large bottle of lotion out of the bag and plunking it on the counter, “bought myself  some lotion.”  He used some that night and hopped into bed.  I sniffed, he smelled like berries.

I didn’t tell him but I’m pretty positive there is a berry scented My Little Pony out there somewhere.  She’s probably pink and has some cherries on her butt.  I couldn’t tell him.  I can only smell like so many My Little Ponies at once.

Erin’s been looking a little rough around the edges lately, so this is the cocroach who’s moved in under her stove posting for her today.  Yeah– she doesn’t have any real pets.  She says she doubts she has the love to sustain a long-term relationship but I think she won’t commit because she knows the poor little thing would probably starve to death in her house.  She’s always going to the fridge and saying things like, “What happened to the milk?  We had a gallon of milk in here…  Tim???  Tim did you drink all the milk?”  She stresses  the word “all” like that makes it a crime: drinking allthe milk.  It works out OK for me, though.  She also hasn’t cleaned her house in about 3 months so I just scoot around the kitchen floor at night picking up whatever has been dropped.

The other night I was just about smoked out of the house, though.  It was St Patty’s day and for some reason they had these random guys over I’ve never seen before,  smoking cigars and playing poker.  Erin was running around serving food and refilling drinks.  She finally turned in at about midnight but the guys stayed until 2am.  Then Wednesday night, there I am, scuttling around the kitchen doing my usual thing– it’s like 12:30 in the morning again, and WHAM!  on go the lights.  I run for cover as I hear her, Tim, and Jordan barge in talking– something about working at a humanitarian event that night at the National Portrait Gallery, meeting Desmond Tutu…  Erin spots me and hisses “Ewwwwe a cockroach!! Filthy!”  I was back under the stove before she could do anything about it, but I wanted to say,  “Listen, lady. I’ve seen the rings in your tub.  Spare me the righteous indignation.” 

Friday night I guess Tim surprised her with a night at the circus (he knew a guy who knew a clown who got them tickets.  Weird.  And creepy.), and she came back to the house so excited and chatting up a storm– you’d have thought she was James Harriot or something.  I overheard her talking about it while she made crepes for this guy, Berek, they had over for breakfast Saturday morning. ”The elephants were so cute!  They’re so dumpy and huge but it’s like they’re almost smiling when they do a trick like balancing on their back legs.  And the way they grab each other others tails and plod their way out of the ring?  Adorable!”

Sunday they were gone all day.  A picnic lunch on the Eastern Shore I surmised by the leftover salami, wine, bread and cheese they brought home.

Monday rolls around and on her way out the door to catch the bus she spots the pile of unfolded clothes on the dining room table  and mumbles something like “This house is such a mess….” in a surprised way that makes me curious about how humans would compare to cockroaches on standardized tests.  Until she draws that connection between doing housework and having a clean house, I think it’s safe to assume I’ll be living in luxury.

free hand pencil drawing by Matthias Rice age 10

 Myth Busters:

Outspoken people like being the one to speak of the elephant in the room.  False.  

Outspoken people are thick skinned.  False.

Outspoken people are extroverts.  False.

Outspoken people always say too much.  False.

We are an outspoken lot, my family. True. 

Silence is golden, doubly so if you’re  female.  And silence is safe; “Even a fool is counted wise when he holds his peace, when he shuts his lips he is considered perceptive.”  Silence can be just plain smart.  And yet silence can also be  prideful, self-centered, laziness.  Keeping silent means never fearing to say the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong way.  But it is safe and that is where we like to live, in safety.  And sometimes it’s just easier to consider our own comfortable blanket of silence over the welfare of others.  Usually the quiet people are the ones who are also labeled “nice.”  For many the apex of someone’s character is that they are so nice.  Usually so nice means they are so quiet that they have never said anything offensive or out-of-line, ever.

Silence means never having to say you’re sorry.  Silence means never sticking your foot in your mouth.  And yet, the silent treatment during an argument is vindictive. And silence when someone is in imminent danger is cruel. Silence when a friend is heading for trouble is mean and uncaring.

Silence is sometimes just plain RUDE.  If a visitor were to enter your home and you remained silent, well, that would just be rude.  In a situation like that no one really cares that you are introverted and shy, they want to feel comfortable and welcome in a new surrounding. So sometimes it is a real plus that there are those people who are willing to put themselves out, leave their comfort zone behind and go speak to a stranger.

There are also those obvious times when it is better to keep silent but there are those other times when you’re just not sure; do I mention the piece of spinach stuck in her teeth or let her go home and discover it in the mirror?  You can always claim you didn’t see it.  Do I tell so and so he’s being a boorish, sullen oaf?  You can always just play the martyr and put up with it.  Do I tell someone they are about to be hit by a train?  Didn’t see it coming.  Do I let so and so know what I know about who she wants to marry?  Well, I just didn’t feel it was my place.  

When outspoken people screw up, they screw up big time, no silence to cover the big loud thing said inappropriately or poorly or maybe shouldn’t have been said at all.  Speaking means dealing with the consequences.  You know what your big loud faults are and so does everyone else.  Yup, there they are floating embarrassingly  in the room.  Outspoken people need to know when to sit back and let things happen without saying anything.  Chomping at the bit to blurt out the obvious and knowing it just isn’t appropriate to say anything.

So, when is it appropriate to go out on a limb?  Speaking requires wisdom, “Whoever guards his mouth and tongue keeps his soul from trouble.”  That means speaking responsibly, checking ourselves, our motives and then speaking.  When you speak, those around you know what you are thinking and how you feel.  You put  yourself out there for scrutiny.  The learning curve is bigger and the stakes are higher.  It is easier to hide lazy, prideful silence; silence can be the sin of omission, all carefully hidden, but a word spoken takes on a life of its own, the speaker is responsible.  You have to own it, you said it and there it is out from the deep recesses of your mind and floating into the ears of others.

Sometimes it means loving someone enough to say the hard thing, risking their wrath and knowing it needs said anyway, “speaking the truth in love.”  Ahh, and that is a very good check.  What is the motive for saying something?  When you know someone and see a problem, is your desire to address the issue based on love or are you just put out and fed up with their behavior.  Or do you seek their good?  If you do, do you love them enough to risk the results of saying something?

“Wisdom is found on the lips of him who has understanding.”  That presupposes something was said,  well said.  ”Happy is the man who finds wisdom.”

“A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver,  Like an earring of gold and an ornament of fine gold is a wise rebuker to an obedient ear.”

“An open rebuke is better than love carefully concealed.”

Speaking up is definitely a skill to be learned with wisdom but it sure beats continual infernal silence- mostly, but maybe I’ve said too much.

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in setting of silver