There’s something about hearing the words “date night,” that make my skin crawl. Nothing will make me say no to an outing faster. You’d think hubs would learn by now that it’s not the best approach, but hey, we’ve only been together 15 years. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with Hubs. It’s the amount of pressure and anxiety that mounts each time he looks at me with those hopeful eyes and the weight those words carry.
Did I forget how to be happy?
That’s similar to what my friend Norbert explored in his poignant essay on his discovery of his own depression for the The Good Men Project. I revisit that piece often. It’s become a benchmark of sorts for me: have I too become numb to what’s going on around me?
I think maybe I have. Continue reading
Turning 39 went better than I thought it would. Turning 40 may very well bring about the end of days, drowning out all light and hope, but we’ve got a while before that happens so we’re ok. I even got some Hawaiian pizza and carrot cake, so really, what’s to complain about?
Now that I’m in a certain age group, but not yet “of a certain age,” finding the silver lining in things is much easier than it used to be. I envied people who could so easily spot it. Those friends who are always quick with the offer of why this horrible situation is not exactly as it may seem. I think I needed to see more personal hardship and log a few more years under my belt before I could see the bounty I truly had each day.
Mockery is one of my superpowers. I am also fluent in sarcasm and learned about zingers at the kitchen table with my family as soon as I could understand what words were. My targets are many and varied. It seams oddly fitting that I start the year targeting one of the most hallowed traditions of a new year itself: making resolutions designed to make you a better person or stop doing something negative, like, you know, mocking things.
If my husband leaves me tomorrow, I blame the chandelier. I won’t hold a grudge against it, but it will definitely receive every side-eye I have to give from now on. It will suspend above my dining room table mockingly reminding me of my overwhelming desire to leap before I look. Of course, it’s not the chandelier’s fault. It’s 100%, unwaveringly my fault. I cannot contain myself sometimes and this time was no different.
One of the greatest phrases in my life is “Parent’s Night Out.” All of the words in the world in any combination of positive expression will never accurately explain the euphoria I feel when these words appear in my email. For why, you ask, do I have such joy when surely I must have these nights all the time?!
Not so, my friends. Not so.
Today a bunch of Trader Joe’s Wheat Crisps soaked up my feelings and it felt amazing. It would only have been better had they sidled up to a personal-pan-sized wheel of Brie with some raspberry jam and gone all in.
Work has been rough lately.
Oh, you too? (Hugs)
I’m late to the party on this one, but by now I’m sure most of you have seen an article going around Facebook lately called 5 Reasons You Should Have Sex With Your Husband Every Night. I really didn’t think anyone needed a whole piece written to justify sex with a spouse, but apparently there’s a significant lack of subject matter on this topic. I caved after seeing how many of my friends shared it and ignored my previously sound judgment of assuming this was another ridiculous attempt to woo people into reading some tripe about being the perfect wife.
As I sit here reveling in a glorious half hour all to my sweet self, my thoughts turn to my impending “Date Day” with my husband. How did I score 30 whole minutes, you ask? My mother is working again this morning, so he offered again to take Miss O for a stroll. He really wants this date day. This time, I took my own advice and planted my bum firmly on this couch.
So…back to Date Day #2.
Suburban Jackpot 