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KenBook
if you’ve read my book, you can skip to paragraph two, otherwise, please indulge me… my husband, my good, kind talented, funny, charming husband is now retired. or as someone so brilliantly said to me, rewired. i prefer that. it feels a bit, although not a lot, sexier. rewired. actually come to think of it, now that i’ve written it down, it sounds very robotic. i’m gonna stick with retired, i can work with that.
okay, so ken loves the weather channel and the new york giants and gardening, and pesto and driving his little sports car very very very fast, and … there’s so much i can list… but a new habit, a new little love bubble, since he’s retired/rewired, he likes to talk a lot about joint pain. not joint as in “sharing,” or in “co,” but as in oh my god my knee, oh my god my thumb, oh my fucking god everything aches. and i can handle that, i can. i tune him out, and i start thinking about vacations and floral arrangements and next years thanksgiving, and what to wear at the tony awards, and how can i be a bit taller than krista & brooke, and my mind wanders and by the time he’s done with all his aches and pains, i can have sympathy. it’s when he complains about the knees and the shoulders and the back and the arthritis and the carpal tunnel and then says in a west side story kinda way:
“hey, maria, wanna rumble?”
that’s when all the sympathy i had goes straight out the window and i say in my amy tone, have you no compassion or sympathy for my vaginal dryness, my arthritic neck, my irritable bowel syndrome, or colitis depending on the webMD information i get in the middle of the night.
and i say in my new midlife abbreviated lingo:
LOL
and he says with great confidence:
laugh out loud?
and i say:
no.
LOTS OF LUCK.
