Cutting The Cheese
One of my favorite expressions is “light-hearted”.
I love all that “light-hearted” conveys: happiness that lifts the heart; the weightlessness of joy.
I am light-hearted. I am easily pleased and I don’t worry much. I look for the best in people, and I’m quick to see the humor in everything. It’s what I like best about myself.
My husband is a very serious person. Because he takes so much to heart, he is not light-hearted. He is heavy-hearted. He worries. He analyzes. Then he worries some more.
A few years ago, my husband had a health scare. He recovered completely, and on his final visit to the surgeon, the surgeon gave some personal advice. “Try to enjoy life more. Be more spontaneous,” the doctor said.
It’s been seven years, and although he’s basically a happy person, my husband is still a serious happy person.
And this past year he has experienced another health crisis. Everything has turned out just fine, but the ordeal reminded my husband of his surgeon’s advice.
He has made a determined effort to have more fun. To be spontaneous and light-hearted.
A few days ago I came home from work and he was in the kitchen putting together a little appetizer: olives and cheese and crackers.
Very spontaneous – especially adding olives.
My husband was particularly pleased with his little snack.
“Did you notice how I cut the cheese?” he asked.
Naturally I snickered a little. It is a proven fact that an adolescent sense of humor never quite goes away.
But I didn’t really see anything special with the cheese.
“Look,” he said. “It’s not all cut up perfectly square like I usually do.”
(Well, that’s certainly true… his cubing is nothing short of obsessive. See “It’s Dicey“.)
“I cut the cheese [snicker] free-form,” he explained.
And looking closely, I ascertained that the pieces of cheese were indeed not all perfectly square. Some were slightly trapezoid.
“That’s very spontaneous of you,” I said encouragingly.
“It’s whimsical,” he agreed.
Well, we all have to start someplace.