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You might not want to ask your wife if she's in a mid life crisis

Sunday, June 7, 2015

My vow of no sugar lasted all of a few days.... as I already fell off the wagon last week when I broke down and bought a bag of chocolate covered pecans at this little place outside of town that I like to go and sit a spell.  Like the Beverly Hillbillies might do when they sit out by the cement pond.  It's a family owned and run place outside of town that has lots to offer, including rocking chairs on the porch that just call my name.    

But I ended up buying the pecans because I got there with the intent of eating lunch on the patio -  But when I got there I saw someone that I used to know ages ago that I didn't really feel like talking to so I put on my movie star dark glasses and tried to wait her out.  But she stayed longer than forever and I was starving so I ended up eating what basically amounted to candy for lunch.  Vote for me for the most terrible person of the year.  

Onward and upward, however....  

So far what I've learned from the survey is this.... that y'all like to wallow in misery with me because it makes you feel better about your own.  And to that I say, Hallelujah, and of course, Let's wallow together.   I'll be sharing the survey results in a separate post soon.  I know you'll want to look that over.  I certainly did.  I'm drawing smiley faces and hearts in the air just thinking about it....

But today I'm calling this post.... You might not want to ask your wife if she's in a mid life crisis. 

Because he took me to breakfast one day last week, and we talked about the kids and their new cell phones that are their very first ones ever, and how they now have a one way ticket to the world at their fingertips and how that makes me a little weary to think of all the danger and possibility. Then he ambushed me with what should've been talk of our love or how good the biscuits are at this place. 

But he popped the question, somewhere between bites of bacon and garlic cheese grits, asking me if I think all my thoughts and actions of late, which have apparently been red flags of worry to him, may be the result of a mid life crisis.  

But he didn't give me time to answer so I kept sucking on the straw in my ice water and debated when would be the best time to pour it on him.  Then he calmly explained to me how even men have these same kinds of feelings, and when they do, they've been known to get surgeries and new hair and sports cars.  Some even get new women, I've heard.

And he told me it's natural to feel this way....  and then the walls started closing in on me. And all I heard was blah blah blah and saw a smiling face as if showing me his teeth may lessen the blow to my ego.  Or talk me down from a ledge from where I may jump.   

And just sayin', for the record, I've heard from other firemen about Fireman Dave's bedside manner if you will... the voice he uses when dealing with irrational fear or crazy people.  Rumor has it that he becomes the Latin lover who isn't Latin and slips on his smooth, look deep into my eyes and fall in love with my command of this emergency situation voice.  


The Rico Suave' of fear and doubt.  He may even unbutton his uniform shirt and show some chest hair for effect.  I have no idea.  But I hear it works 9 times out of 10 to make the the ladies forget all about that giant gash in their hand from cooking dinner, or that heart irregularity they were worried about.  Because they know my husband will lead them through the fires of life and right on out to safety.  Then he straps them down on a stretcher where they can't escape and he turns back into regular ol' Fireman Dave again. Then goes back to the station to finish cooking dinner.

But his charm was lost on me  - so very lost that I couldn't even finish my pancakes - and when I couldn't hold it back anymore, I excused myself to the bathroom and cried.  Cried the tears of an insulted and scarred woman cursed with life crisis symptoms of which I was unaware.

And there was no window in the ladies room to climb out of and escape as in the movies.  There was only him and he had the car keys. So we left together, without speaking, but about a block down the road he tried to talk to her.  Her, meaning me, but the upset side of me that you shouldn't really try to talk to until you're hidden safely behind a wall.  And I told him I just wanted to go home.  But it really came out more as blubber blubber home, blubber blubber home

And then I did what every angry and frustrated wife would do in lieu of killing him, and went to the dentist and asked if they would be so kind as to squeeze me in to freshen my dazzling whites.  So I had my teeth cleaned and charged that little prize to husband's credit card.  Then I bought a new dress, thanking him for that as well.  He should probably be on the lookout for charges at Neiman's and a splurge on a massage coming soon.  And for the record, I have since that day, had at least two beautiful compliments on my gleaming smile.  Take that, middle age. 

So let me back up.....

Here were the tell tale signs of my impending crisis.  Furniture refinishing, some occasional furniture rearranging, and the admission that I get a little bored around here sometimes.   Because being the maid has it's limits.

And last week I found out my very dear friend has lung cancer.  And I feel sad for her.  And for me.  Because I'm selfish and I had prayed long and hard for a real friend.  Then she appeared in the school yard out of nowhere one day acting like we were already the oldest and dearest ... and well, I knew God had heard my prayer of loneliness for a kinship that I had been missing out on for way too long.   

And I guess boredom + sadness can make a girl think.  Think about things as I sat in the waiting room waiting for my mammogram - looking at magazines and finding pictures of darling clothes and haircuts and yes, an adorable ear cartilage piercing.

Think about things as I watch my kids grow up, one finishing elementary school and one finishing middle school, and starting new phases of life.  

Think about things as I work and write and dream about all that I have to say being shared to God's fullest promise. 

So all that being said, my aforementioned friend, feeling well and strong, and also being a bit of a bad influence on me, kept me company at the tattoo and piercing salon one afternoon between the 5th grade awards ceremony and kid 2's orthodontist appointment.  

What's that saying my mom used to say? 
  
I need that (fill in the blank) like I need a hole in my head. 
  
Well, I have a new hole in my head.  Added to my collection.  And after it all heals up, I have big sparkly plans for that hole.  Diamonds really are a girl's best friend.   

This one joining my already large collection of piercings - 8 in total now, all on the ears, of course...  

Because, #1...  I was a child of the 80's and we just did stuff like that then. 
And #2, with the pain I felt with this one, I can't even imagine piercing anything more delicate than an ear.  

But if you see me around, you'll rarely see me with any of  my bedazzles in my ears. Because over the years, I got busy raising kids and taking care of people and obviously forgot some parts of who Kristi is.  She's the one with the 8 ear piercings and the girl who has, on several lovely occasions, dared to be bold in some of life's more important areas.  

I forgot about her.  Till I remembered.   Maybe husband forgot about her, too.  

Maybe that's the only crisis.  

Remembering the beauty of being me......  but this time with very sore ear cartilage. 




survey results coming soon..... I love love love what I learned!  Can't wait to share. 

To get every post mailed to you, follow me on Bloglovin.  It's free, it's easy, and not at all painful like a body piercing.



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