The Master Manipulator

I'm sort of an "out there person," to borrow a phrase from my Aunt Cess. What you see is what you get. You will know my mood in one minute. Experience has taught the husband to figure it out in five seconds. He reacts accordingly. Well, most of the time. Sometimes he just says, "Get over yourself." I'm not a schemer. I'm stubborn and I want things my way but I will be in up front and honest about it. Yet, I'm pretty good at compromise or negotiations.

I live with the Master Manipulator. I watch and I vacillate between awe and repulsion. She's good. She's damn good.

She somehow gets her way every time. She does it with the Unabomber. She does it with children and grandchildren. Every once in a while, Big Daddy will say to me, "Do you think she's manipulating me?" Float there for a minute. "Yes, and she's doing it well."

Manipulation is not something I aspire to. I prefer to duke it out. I prefer to walk out of the room or grab a whacker and thump the offending party on the head. I don't like to guess when you're angry with me or what I could do differently. Just tell me. Let me defend myself or ask your forgiveness.

I had an email from the daughter this morning. No pretense -- just something that's bugging her. I will fix it. She is right; I am wrong. It's so refreshing to deal with an issue and tackle it head on. Thank God, she missed the gene of manipulation.