Isn't it funny that you can totally, 100%, agree with some one, but you just don't like the way they say it? Isn't it funny that you may appreciate the truth when you hear it ... but you just wanna say ... uh uh ... .

I remember when I first married ... I suggested to my husband that we make a commitment to disagree only when sitting in the bathtub together ... preferably in warm water. He immediately agreed ... great idea ... we'll resolve all our issue in the bathtub ... but no bubbles.

We have never done that. Now, thirty years in to this, I think "alone with warm water and bubbles ... and some music" ... may be a more satisfactory way to resolve differences ... of perspective, if not opinion. We have a catalogue of past negotiations ... we pretty much know how things are going to go.

It's interesting to me to see couples, like my husband and I, who have been married for a long time. Thirty years is a long time, isn't it? How much of me has been shaped, nurtured, sculpted by the life we have experienced together? He knows I like to white water raft and hike. That may not make his list of top 100 ways to spend a day. On the other hand, he will spend hours and hours walking along the beach with me, patiently stopping while I look at a shell or frame a picture.

Last night, at 8:00, Four had basketball practice, and needed a ride to the gym. "I'll take you" he said when she walked in to the room in her little pink Nike shorts and (her sister's) sweatshirt. Awesome, I thought, Bubblebath time for me. I had been fiddling with the olive in my martini ... the martini I didn't want ... for awhile as we discussed our issues with our adult children. I am willing to stop having issues with them because they are adults ... my husband is still insistent on offering advice that we all know they are not ready to hear. It's good advice ... but because they are adults, it's time to wait for them to seek advice, rather then serve it up at every opportunity. I get it ... he just wants what is best for them ... that's a good thing. And they will listen respectfully and then ... this is where the issues are ... then do whatever they want (Kinda just like we did when we were adult children.) Family is hard. This is like OMG so much work ... unrelenting. That's why the Calgon commercials ... take me away ... sell bubble bath salts. That's why he want's to share cocktail hour ... sometimes you just want a little softer focus on the issues.

I know these guys can swim. I am satisified with that ... I do not have a need to rowboat along side them, shout instructions and encouragement from a bull horn . I think they just need to pull their own heads up out of the water and figure out if the shore they're tracking towards is where they want to spend their time ... I think they need to own their own choices ... . I don't say that because we have already covered this topic ... he knows what I think and also that I agree with him in principle if not application. I half listen to his half rant. I don't have any comments other then uhhuh ... I know ... yes, I see your point ... . Hmmm, shuffle or straight Handel ... that's where I'm at, thinking of tuning in while I'm tuning out.

Love complicates relationships. Yeah, that's what I said. It's easy to see what should happen in relationships where love isn't involved. I'm not even going to stop here, but I do believe that it's good to pull love out of the equation, think about it in that light, and temper the conclusions by factoring love back in. I absolutely love my people ... but love doesn't always take you to the most loving outcomes.

So, as I am planning my escape, he says, "Aren't you going with me?" to drop Four off. I grimace as I mentally ease out of that nice long soak bath ... it sounded like a favorite record being scratched. It's wet and cold outside in the dark ... light snow is forecast. We drop our little fierce pointguard off and watch as she runs inside, then on to the local gas station. I sit in the car while he fills the tank. When he get's back in the car I thank him. Basketball practice is for an hour. "What now?" I ask (very sweetly ... fresh on the heels of a genuine thanks for filling up the car). I am going to the bookstore he says ... with leftover grumpy from the earlier grumpfest ... You can go with me or I will drop you off at home. I do not want to sit alone at the bookstore ... which is about half a mile away from the gas station. "Is that an invitation?" ... not a question really more of an exasperated prod ... it's so nice to be cherished.

I sit down with a couple of magazines ... in my usual spot. A college kid comes up and flops down next to me. How'sitgoing goodyou good ... done with that ... . I sneeze ... he says "God bless you." ... I look at him and say "Thank you."