Jul. 26th, 2011

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They're so...organic, I guess. Conversations, I mean. They sort of start when you aren't looking, and then, all of a sudden, you're in the middle of A Conversation.

Ours started out as a mere seedling of talking; a minor exchange of a small packet of information. Leah mentioned something about being "strategic" in the way she does things. I related a story about a man I worked with fifteen years ago, who had gotten in some sort of legal issue, and had been represented by his wife (who was an attorney). In the story, he'd been amazed and a little frightened of the creature that had been his wife as it carved the opposition into little whimpering bits of perjury and falsehood. He'd said something like, "I had NO IDEA that she was THAT good of a lawyer."

So, Leah had described her bit of strategicness (a term which is now a word, because I have so said), and I was really impressed, and said that it would be a terrifying thing to be on her bad side, because her ability to manipulate the puppet strings behind the scenes and to ask pointed questions to which she already knows the answers in order to milk more information out of someone is nothing short of the stuff of really intense lawyerin' movies.

She didn't like that word, manipulative. She said, "I prefer to think of myself as a strategic planner." I opined that this was a matter of semantics. "Assertive Woman" and "Pushy Broad" are different only in which side of the argument you're losing. She said, "what are you trying to say?"

This isn't a time to panic. As I have made a life out of explaining what I actually meant compared to what came out of my mouth, I really wasn't worried. We were still bantering. Sort of. I quickly stated that I was only giving her thanks and praise, and then, made a lateral skip to a bit I'd heard a comedienne deliver on The Bob and Tom Show. In the bit, she talked about how different terms for women seem to be in the form of adjective noun. Got your real estate license? You're a smart cookie. Drink fancy cocktails from a long-stemmed glass? You're a classy lady. Put on a mini-skirt and heels for a night on the town and you're a hot mamma. Turn an ugly guy down at the bar and you're a dyke bitch.

Thank god I married a strategic planner.


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