bigtips

How can I get my honey to help out around the house?

by M.T. "the Big Tipper" Martone

It's almost the end of May now, and I'm pleased to say that most of my truly ugly gardening has been dealt with. I've ripped the sod off of a quarter of my backyard, dragged it to the curb, and paid the city a hefty fee to carry it all away. I've tucked the bulbs in their beds, hopefully right side up. I've sprinkled seeds, and given them a good soaking whenever it's dry enough to merit that. I've marked where everything has been sown, so I won't accidentally overplant. And now I'm waiting.

I've never had my own garden before. When I was growing up, we had a few tomato plants and a peace rose on the south side of the house, and a few bachelors buttons in the rock garden. But these were more the educational gestures of a patient mother than any actual attempt to grow food, or experience the pleasure of coaxing life out of dirt.

I had a housemate, once, who held me in a form of indentured servitude, requiring long hours of spading and brush clearing for the ephemeral pleasures of three summer tomatoes. And I had a favorite housemate with whom I would sneak out at night and steal cool leaves of basil from the neighbors' seemingly endless plot.

But now I have a big sunny yard, and I feel like I have to make the effort.

If I hate it, I don't have to do it next year, but at least I won't be missing the experience due to sheer laziness. I dislike being out in the sun, so I do my hardest digging and crouched weeding in the cool haze of morning.

It took me a long time to be able to justify buying water at the store, and now I find myself paying money for poop. I spread it and fork it in around the full plants that I inherited with this yard. There's a snowball bush, a forsythia and lots of shaggy tangled roses. They're all healthy, but old and woody: The woman who put them in and dug around them for over forty years died last summer. I cleared out that big swath of lawn for some vegetables and herbs, but I would never touch these old-timers.

This place is just a rental, and who knows how many seasons I'll have to poke around in this particular backyard, but I'm grateful for the opportunity, and to be able to do it by myself. If I don't feel like weeding, I'll do it in a day or two. If I don't feel like growing green beans because I hate them (yes, you heard me right), no green beans will be welcome in these parts. And if none of my seeds come up, I'll go back and buy starts. And if the starts don't grow, the grocery store is round the corner.

And if someone steals my basil, I'll offer

her some tomatoes to go with it.

Dear Big Tipper,

My parents raised me in a pretty strict household, and weekends were no exception. Saturdays were for getting house and yard work done, and Sunday was a day of rest.

I don't think I've carried on that tradition too literally, but things do need to get done that you're too busy to do during the week, and I'd really like my girlfriend to help me with jobs we should share on the weekend. Otherwise I do them and get mad at her.

Dear No Rest for the Ticked,

First of all, don't be passive-aggressive and threaten your girl with holding out on

BIG TIPS

I don't want to say that she's lazy, but if I didn't suggest we do jobs, they'd never happen. She says she's so tired that the weekend has to be her time of rest and relaxation. But what about mowing the lawn and taking in the car to get its oil changed? Maybe I'll just be too tired to have sex with her after all the work I'm doing!

Curbside

La-Z-Girl

SCORPIO ROBERT KIRBY

her. Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face.

It'll only put her on the defensive. No behavior change, no satisfaction. I assume you two work Monday through Friday, so you both have Saturday and Sunday off. Our whole culture is built around the work week and the cult of the weekend, particularly in summer, so

if your sweetie hoots "Yabba dabba doo!" when the whistle blows on Friday, you're buck-

ing some powerful forces.

First: If there's something that you feel needs to be done, talk to her about it, and decide who's going to do it. Say you're going to switch off weeks of mowing the lawn. You can do it your week on Saturday. But she may want to do it during the week, since it stays light out until later.

EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO KNOW ABOUT SEX I LEARNED IN COLLEGE. MITCH WAS MY PROFFESOR IN BOTH THE CLASSROOM AND THE BEDROOM. 'GET ME THE BUTTER" MARLON BRANDO, "LAST TANGO IN PARIS," RIGHT?

RIGHT, BUT SERIOUSLY, GOGET IT! HE HAD IMAGINATION AND ENCOUR-

AGED ME TO USE MINE AS WELL.. WHEN WE GET HOME YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, AND WAIT FOR ME...?

ON THE DINING ROOM TABLE... WHERE I'LL PROCEED TO...

TIEME UP, REAL TIGHT.. AND THEN..?

GO GET YOUR RAZOR..

LEMENU

HE WASN'T THE FIRST GUY I'D BEEN WITH, BUT HE WAS THE FIRST ONE WHO REALLY KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING. A MAN OF THE WORLD HE WAS, A TAKE-CHARGE KINDA GUY.I

I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU A GOOD SHAVE TODAY.

BUT.. I

ALREADY

SHAVED.

BZZZZZZZ

NOT WHERE I'M GOING TO DO IT!

I SUBMITTED TO HIM REGULARLY, UNTIL ONE DAY WHEN I DECIDED IT WAS TIME FOR ME TO GRADUATE TO THE NEXT LEVEL.) WHAT DO YOU THINKY YOU'RE DOING?!

SHUTUP

YOU O☆#@!O!! YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!

If she has to do a job so that you can do a job (say, pick up her tools so you can work in the basement), ask her when she can get it done within a reasonable amount of time, remind her gently, one time, if it's getting close and it hasn't happened yet. If it doesn't happen, hang around at her elbow and say, in a nice way, you're ready to do your job, should you wait upstairs or downstairs? If you're feeling magnanimous, you can offer to help her.

This is one of those situations in which it shouldn't be your job to get her off her duff, but since you're the one who cares, you're the designated duff booter. You could also try working and playing more in synch with her. If she's relaxing, lighten up. If don't want to watch the game you with her, go to a movie or read a book. Then you won't be acting like a tortured martyr.

I'm all in favor of a neat home and a tidy yard, but life and summer are short. Spend the long days in ways you'll remember.

Burning questions? Contact me at the Chronicle, attention Big Tips, P.O. Box 5426, Cleveland 44101, or fax to 216-631-1052, or e-mail to martone@drizzle.com.

BY ROBERT KIRBY

HE INTRODUCED ME TO ACTIVITIES THAT NO ONE HAD EVER TOLD ME ABOUT.

mpph mpph

slurp

IF MY PARENTS COULD SEE ME NOW...

•MOAN

HE DIED SEVERAL YEARS AGO, BUT I STILL PUT EVERYTHING HE TAUGHT ME TO GOOD USE. I'M NO RAVING BEAUTY, BUT I STILL MANAGE TO PIQUE MY CURRENT BOYFRIEND'S INTEREST, LONG AFTER IT WOULD OTHERWISE HAVE FADED.

MMMMMM! MPPH

PMPHMP! PP!*

* TRANSLATION: WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING YOU SO LONG?

I'M HORNY! DREW? PREW!! HURRY UP !!

LE MENU

I GOT AN "A+"THAT NIGHT.

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