Posts

Love and Listening

Sorry. You Were Talking. I Wasn't Listening

annoyed wife talking and bored husband not listening

Longtime married couples think they’ve heard it all. But after decades, love and listening may go their separate ways. In which case, even the happiest of marrieds may discover they’ve missed something important. I know. It just happened to Handsome Hubby and me. Crisis loomed! Read more

,

Madly in Love or Just Mad?

Danger Ahead: Valentine's Quiz

Lovers beware. I took a Valentine’s Day quiz to learn if my husband is “still utterly and totally in love.” The results? Let’s just say Handsome Hubby and I didn’t “ace” the test. In fact, it should have come with a warning: Danger Ahead!  Read more

,

The Art of Conversation, Marriage Edition

The Art of Conversation, marriage edition

Handsome Hubby and I are approaching our 32nd wedding anniversary, and I must say we’ve really got the art of conversation down to a science. The renowned Navajo code-talkers have nothing on us. With just a few words, HH and I can decipher (and deride) each other’s meaning perfectly.

Here are a few true-life conversations from our household that I bet you’ll recognize.

Conversation 1

I say: “What about those forms I needed your help with?” reminding HH about this or any long-ago request I’ve made.
HH says: “Hum, it rings a bell.”
HH is hearing: Blaring alarm bells.
HH is thinking: “Mayday. Mayday. Marital iceberg ahead.” Read more

, ,

Nine Questions for Lasting Love

Tinder for Talkers

A famous psychological study developed 36 questions to fast-track intimacy and connection. Ha! That’s easy. A glass of cheap merlot and low lighting can do that for most people. But lasting love? Well, that requires a whole different set of questions.

And to help with that, from the vantage point of a middle-aged many-years married, I’ve prepared a list of nine queries young lovers should consider before saying their “I do’s.” Read more

, ,

Website Wedded Woes

Handsome Hubby is Not Amused

Website Wedded Woes

Sure, he thought it was fun for a while. Sure, he liked being called Handsome Hubby in my Muddling through Middle Age blog. In fact, he liked it so much he even started signing emails to me “HH.” But now the fun has ended and Website Wedded Woes have begun!

HH has taken umbrage at my blogging about him and our marriage. Read more

, ,

The Prince Wore Plaid

Handsome Hubby, Not Harry

The Prince Wore Plaid

Several months back, I vowed to follow a strict diet. I wasn’t cutting carbs or calories, but celebrities. More specifically, I vowed to stop my late-night consumption of empty sugary fluff and stuff articles about celebs. Then, amid all the unrelenting and divisive bad news, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle got engaged. I broke my celebrity diet and happily devoured stories about the happy couple.

But when the non-stop deluge of coverage continued unabated, I got bored. I tried to regain literary control. Admittedly it was near impossible to do amid the 24/7 onslaught of photos, fashion tips, gossip, and wedding planning updates. Still, I tried to focus on the important news of the day. And to some degree, I was successful. I know this, because just last week, Read more

, ,

Death and Taxes … and Snoring

Confessions from the Guest Room

Death and Taxes ... and Snoring

Nothing in life is certain, but death and taxes. True, but in my mind the list is incomplete. Snoring and sleep problems, the handmaidens of the middle-aged and elderly, are also life’s certainties.

And if you agree, then it is time for true confessions. Fess up, ladies. How many of you have fled the marital bed and sleep in separate rooms from your husband or significant other? Read more

, ,

Valentine’s Day: The Prettiest Girl in the Room …

He Used to Say So All the Time .. Used to.

Happy Valentine's Day

It’s Valentine’s Day, a day fraught with all sorts of emotion, memories, and expectations. I personally have always loved the day. It follows by three days my parents’ anniversary and the birth of my first child. My father, who was quite the romantic, made a big deal of Valentine’s Day and so, it was very special around our house when I was growing up. As a dating young miss and Ms., I received flowers, cards, candies, and other delights with the best of them. It was all fun.

And as a special bonus, 34 years ago on Valentine’s Day, I was anointed one of the “10 Most Eligible Women in the World” by United Press International (UPI), the international news agency whose newswires, photos, films, and audio services provided news to thousands of newspapers, magazines, and radio and television stations.

I know. It’s hard to believe looking at chubby, middle-aged me today, but in 1984 the news service named me to that “Most Eligible” list along with blonde bombshell Loni Anderson; Christie Hefner, Hugh’s daughter; Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones,  niece of Queen Elizabeth, and Patti Davis, daughter of President and Nancy Reagan.

“Why me?” you rightly ask. Read more

, , ,

Throw in the Towel in 2018

The Path to Enlightenment

Throw in the Towel

You know the expression “to throw in the towel”- meaning to give up? Well, I am trying the opposite. I’m turning to towels, dishtowels to be specific, for inspiration and wisdom in 2018.

Maybe it is the challenging times we live in. The nation seems more divided than ever. We’re all scared about a possible war with North Korea. And I personally feel adrift, desperately trying to figure out what to give my sister-in-law for her birthday this year.

So, you can imagine my delight the other day when birthday gift shopping online, I found inspiration, indeed true enlightenment in … of all things … Read more

I Can’t Get No Satisfaction

But the Show Must Go On

I can't get no satisfaction

So sang the Rolling Stones. I know how they feel. For sadly, I can’t get no satisfaction. My husband no longer satisfies my needs the way he did in the glory days of our courtship and first years of wedded bliss.

“Oh, God, not again,” he moaned just the other day as I gently nudged him awake. “We just did it,” he lamented.

“Come on,” I demurred sweetly. “That was hours ago. Come on. Get up.”

“You’re killing me,” he protested. “I just cannot do this seven-nights-a-week and twice on weekends. I’m not young anymore.”

“Come on,” I repeated. This time in a firmer voice.

“You’re insatiable,” he muttered weakly.

Now, I suppose you think I’m talking about sex … Read more

,