I did something really immature a couple of days ago. (I am sure some of you are saying, “Tell us when you aren’t immature.”) I’m not exactly proud of the moment but given the circumstances I think it was warranted.

It occurred in our car and it was all I could do not to start a fight with my husband. (Our car fights are legendary. I usually end up losing my cool because I get too hungry, start to cry and then threaten to fling myself out of the car….and amazingly these are not the immature moments I am writing about today.)

Our rule is that the driver gets to pick the music. We do a good job of compromising on his eclectic taste (everything from the Beatles to Eric Church) and my superior love of the classics (Harry Chapin, Bee Gees and Shaun Cassidy.)

After 17 years of marriage, hubby and I kind of know each other’s vibe. He knows I am going to belt out the wrong lyrics and I know he is going to do some sort of funky harmonizing and vocal guitar noises.

I can’t think of a time where we have vetoed the other’s music choice until this past weekend. Hubby and I were at the end of a very long car ride (hour 9 of 10) and he was driving. I was at that point where I wanted to be home and get on with the chores that come after being away.

He starts digging in the armrest for a CD. I generously hand him one…of mine. Hubby pokes around some more (I yell at him for driving with his knees) and finds what he is looking for….Jimi Hendrix!!!

I agree, Jimi Hendrix is an unbelievable musician BUT it just isn’t my jam. (For those of you who aren’t as hip as I am…when I say my jam, I am saying that it is not my get down get funky music. Jam does not refer to the stuff you put on a sandwich next to peanut butter. )

The wail of an electric guitar was what Hubby needed to burn the last hour whereas I just was mentally toast (which also is good with jam) and wanted some quiet noise.

My feelings toward the disc were obvious as I rolled my eyes and made gagging noises. (And we STILL aren’t at the immature moment.) I resisted throwing the disc out the window but I just couldn’t listen to it.

So I put in my ear buds and listened to my IPod. (THIS is my immature moment.) Like a pouty teenager, I just sat there listening to MY music and staring out the window.

At that moment I thought, I’m showing him. He’ll think twice before he ever puts on music that isn’t MY favorite. Yep. I’m cool. (The only thing that would have made me more juvenile is if I took a selfie and made a duck face.)

I’ve looked back at this moment a few times in the couple of days. I will admit, I handled it wrong.   This was one of those moments that I missed out on just being present and there for my husband.  I should have relished the moments of him enjoying music he loves instead of being in my own head.

Lesson learned.  Sometimes the “jam” can be something different as long as you share it with someone you love.

Shallot Jam (This is the jam is the one I mentioned a couple of weeks ago on my Cubs Fan-dwich)


1 pound shallots, remove papery/onion outside and slice as thin as humanly possible

2 Tbsp Olive oil

1 tsp sea salt

2 Tbsp brown sugar

2-3 sprigs of fresh thyme (You can also use rosemary or both.)

1/2 cup red wine vinegar (I’ve also made it with balsamic vinegar)

A couple good grinds of black pepper


In a large, nonreactive skillet, heat up olive oil over low heat.

Add shallots and give it a quick coating and then let cook a few minutes without disturbing.

Add salt and brown sugar. Stir occasionally BUT keep cooking over low heat until it is browning not burning. Mine took about 45-60 minutes.

Increase heat to medium/high and add thyme, vinegar and pepper. Stir constantly until the vinegar reduces. It should look nice and syrupy…like jam.

Store in a clean container for about a week.

As for future car trips, my husband will never have to see my ear buds again!  (I’ll just plug my ears with my fingers because that IS more mature.)