When you care enough to make sure the card actually gets there, send an e-card.
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No, I’m not looking forward to today, this day of preparation before my Happy 50th Birthday Colonoscopy. The test itself doesn’t worry me. I’m grateful for this technology, for the chance to catch a potential problem. It’s this not eating bit and the “internal cleansing” that I dread with every pore of my being.
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by Amy Ruhlin
My husband has grown a beard. I’ve known him for 30 years and he has not once, not ever, tried to grow any type of facial hair at all.
Our 20-year-old daughter became concerned when she saw it. She said that surely he would shave soon; it is so unlike him to grow a beard.
And then she asked me if this could be his midlife crisis.
"Why, yes," I told her, trying to contain my excitement, "actually, I think it is."
"Well," she said, "if this is the extent of it, then that is good news."
I know that she said this with great relief, even though she said it by text, because she witnessed my own midlife adjustment. She was often in the room as the hormones shifted, the tears spilled and the mood changed.
I agreed with my daughter that her Dad’s beard was benign midlife angst. But I was also secretly thrilled. For years, I had been hoping that he would exhibit some mild hysteria so that I didn’t look so bad.
My husband is a rock. He is calm and patient and kind and level-headed. And although I love and appreciate these qualities, they made him seem like a saint as he sailed through midlife while I turned into Medusa.
He and I have been together for the majority of our adult lives.
We carved out our careers and moved into full adulthood together in our twenties.
We created a family and built a home together in our thirties.
We entered our forties together and after a few years, I fell apart. But he did not and it didn’t seem fair. I thought we were in this together.
I began to toss and turn at night and wake up in sweat while he peacefully snored beside me.
I began to face the reality that I had to let go of my babies because somehow, they grew up. It was not easy letting go and I struggled. And since my husband was just as involved in raising our kids as I was, I assumed that he was struggling too.
"Aren’t you sad that the kids aren’t little anymore?" I would ask.
"Not all all," he would say. "Those were great times but now they are older and these are good times too."
I was sure he was in denial , so I found old photos of the kids when they were small and adorable and held them up close to his face.
"Look," I’d plead, "doesn’t it just kill you that those days are gone?" But he would only smile and say, "Nah, those were fun days but now we’ve just moved on to different days. You know, circle of life and all that stuff." He was taking it all in stride and it was maddening.
I began to count the number of grey hairs on my head and I noticed that my husband didn’t have any. Not one. As I increased the number of highlights in my hair, he combed through the same thick, dark hair he’s had since he was 21.
I didn’t like this solo trip. But things are looking up now that we are in our fifties.
My husband has grown a beard. A crazy, woolly, middle-aged , grey beard.
Thank you, honey. I’m so glad we are in this together.
by Susan Bonifant of Worth Mentioning One day long ago, while I was looking for something fun to read, I came upon Linda Goodman’s “Sun Signs.” In her description of Tauruses, Linda referred to us as “creatures” who are highly enslaved by attuned to their senses; drawn to things that look and taste and smell […]
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by Amy Ruhlin
On the night of the Golden Globe Awards I watched the news as my husband cooked lemon garlic pork chops and mustard greens. Our plan was a quiet dinner. We had no intention of watching the awards show; it’s really not our thing. But during a commercial break from the news, I caught a glimpse of the red carpet interviews.
Over the hiss of sizzling pork I asked my husband if he wanted to watch the Golden Globes, just for fun. He said sure, so I found our old bamboo TV dinner trays in the pantry and we parked ourselves in front of the television to take in all of the glamour and glitz.