Archive for June, 2009
Wonder if You Could Get Married over Age 40?
Posted by: | CommentsI couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. Click on this link to get to a calculator to review your chances of getting married after age 40. Seriously.
Just for grins, I took their little test, answering questions based on where and who I was right before I met Husband. My chances? 37 percent. Not so good. I guess random meetings don’t count for this calculator.
Then, for additional giggles, I entered my answers as a man. My odds increased to 40 percent.
Have fun!
Quote of the Week
Posted by: | CommentsWhen a man marries a woman, they become one; but the trouble starts when they try to decide which one.
~Unknown
Did You Remember To Ask About Retirement Upon Wedding Vows?
Posted by: | CommentsAccording to a recent Fidelity Survey, 80% of couples disagree about their retirement plans, making it a larger issue than politics, religion or household chores. (Okay, they might be biased). But, still, I kinda get it.
With the latest U.S. economic news and the dire predictions for the country’s superpower future, Husband recently surprised me by suggesting we might end up retiring outside the U.S. After I recovered from such an unusually bold statement from Husband, I naturally asked to where? He had no answer for that. But, it put me on alert that perhaps we hadn’t discussed our happy ending well enough. I mean was he talking Mexico village or Swiss chalet?
Getting married older means you probably arrived at the altar with some retirement plans of your own already simmering on the back brain cells. And, I have to be honest, learning a new language at age 75 so I could just buy some groceries was not being considered. I pictured the home we are supposed to be building as where we’d park ourselves for the duration. (I know how to get to Tysons Corner from here. And, I like it.)
However, Husband is clearly open to other living possibilities. And, it is directly linked to what’s-left-in-the-accounts-after-the-government-has-its-way-with-it. As in, if America becomes a country where more than 50% of the population is taking more out of the government than putting into it, we’re leavin’.
Well, am I? Do I get a say?
(By now you can guess, Husband is fiscally conservative. I am not, though I do save for retirement and have savings. But it’s nothing compared to Husband. I’m only hoping he is in a sharing mood when we are old and gray.)
How exactly does a couple determine where they land, anyway? It used to be the man’s job to declare the location of the home site. Women just had to clean it. But, now, well, it’s different. And, if you are an LBB, it’s really, really different. (We have maid service, for one.) Plus, couples nowadays tend to act with more equality, especially if you found each other after you already found yourself.
But, are retirement plans determined by who has the larger bank account? Or by whomever brings in the most cash flow on a monthly basis? Or is it something else? Hmmmm…. And, I ponder, is his retirement fund my retirement fund, and visa versa? Is this something we share evenly or do we start a list on the refrigerator of whose turn it is to buy the Metamucil?
Something to talk about…
Sharing Food With Husband. In Public.
Posted by: | CommentsHusband and I like to eat. Often. And, well. You might even say our appetites have a ring through our noses. We go where it tells us to go.
Lately, we’ve been hanging a bit with another cool couple who love to dine as much as we do. And, thanks to them, we’ve discovered some great new restaurants. But, apparently, we are dining “amateurs.”
Our friends were slightly dismayed when (twice now), Husband and I have ordered the same items off the menu. I have always figured, hey, whatever rocks your appetite. You want the salmon. You order the salmon.
But, our friends pointed out that doing so could be quite limiting. To the palate, anyway. I mean, how are you going to share otherwise? Rumor has is that sharing is part of the dining experience when you are a couple.
On Sunday, we met our friends for brunch at Zinc, a Charlottesville restaurant. And, we did what we tend to do – go for the same items.
But, our friends asked, are you sure you want to do that? So, we decided to go crazy. Husband got the banana and nutella crepe and I got the Eggs Benedict, with strict instructions to share.
Of course, we discovered, we are sharing proletarians, too. We asked for side plates to put the other’s “portion” on them. (Our friends actually switch plates.)
But, I wasn’t too sure about handing over my whole plate. For one, what if Husband doesn’t give it up when I want it back? And, two, does that mean he gets a little bit of everything on the plate? I mean, there were hash browns at stake here.
So, not to take too much risk on a Sunday morning, Husband got his own side order of potatoes.
See? friends noted, It’s all in how you order!
Baby steps, I reminded them. Baby steps.
(Do you share your food with your significant other? Do share, er, tell.)
Quote of the Week
Posted by: | CommentsI think men who have a pierced ear are better prepared for marriage. They’ve experienced pain and bought jewelry.
~Rita Rudner
OTT Update: The New Terrace
Posted by: | CommentsGreetings! Just stopping in to let you know how OTT (Operation Townhouse Transformation) is going. It’s moving along!
Three days ago I awoke to four guys yucking it up in my backyard. After I got over my initial heart attack and vision of Husband coming home from work to find his wife (not like he left her) in the bath tub (I watch too many bad made-for-TV movies), I realized it was the concrete guys! (Note to contractors: A little notice is helpful, yes?) They were here to start the “backyard transformation.” We are replacing the builder’s idea of terrace (read: concrete slab, 8 feet by 14 feet).
I managed to throw on clothes just before they started up the jackhammer. It took them only three hours to jack up the old icky slab. Then, of course, they left. For two days.
But, no matter. Yesterday, they returned to haul away all the concrete junk, mark off the new terrace, pull up the sod and put down some gravel and rebarb. On Monday, they pour the new “slab” and color and stamp it. Voila! Instant flagstone terrace lookalike.
Of course, now we need new patio furniture. And, flower beds. And, matching ceramic pots for the plants. And, cute lights. And, I’m sure I’ll come up with more.
Husband is sighing. I wonder why?
Your Happy Ending: Have you written it yet?
Posted by: | CommentsMarriage doesn’t solve all life’s challenges.
Well, crap.
I know this fact seems obvious – especially to all you long-time marrieds. And, you are probably shaking your head right now, wondering just how deep does delusion run through this LBB? (Pretty deep, actually.)
The truth is, for those of us new to this game called “being married,” the fact that the prince and princess don’t actually ride off into the sunset upon signing the contract may have only been obvious in the abstract. I know several LBBs—myself included – for whom it did not stop us from hoping marriage would have been a little bit like the fantasy.
Because you see, as a long-time single person, you are able to – and quite frankly, had lots of time to — fantasize and entertain all kinds of ideals around love and commitment. I am not an expert in marriage, but I dare say I have earned my PhD in “imagination run amok.” In fact, I wrote the curriculum.
And, may I suggest some reading as part of this program? I just finished reading a love story series – known as the Twilight series – by author Stephenie Meyer. I know, I know, it was written for teens. But, my sister and cousin said I had to read them. So, I obeyed.
Ten days later, I had plowed through all four books. Nonstop. I finally understood why the series sat on the New York Times bestseller list for 143 weeks in total. They sold more than 42 million copies worldwide in 37 countries. And, apparently it’s turned into quite the franchise, including a Hollywood movie. Who knew?
In the first book, Bella Swan, an ordinary teenager, moves to the rainiest town in America, Forks, Washington, where she meets and falls in (mutual) love with a vampire, Edward Cullen. Throughout their time together (four books worth), Bella and Edward face enormous challenges (his unquestionable thirst for her blood aside). I won’t spoil the ending for you, if you haven’t read them. But, suffice to say for about 10 seconds I wished I was a vampire, living in a perfect romance with the hottest thing on the planet.
Then I closed the book.
Then I began to wonder. Is it good to read love stories or do they just whet our appetite (no pun intended) for what we don’t have?
Unlike real life, while I journeyed through the Twilight series’ love story, I kinda knew from the beginning it would all work out. Why? Well, the author has fans. Lots of them. And she probably wants to keep them. (And, let’s face it, even though we live in a world where 13 years olds know more than our parents probably did at age 30, most likely she knew teenagers were not ready to be that disappointed about love if Edward and Bella didn’t work out.)
In essence, all that tragedy I read was okay, because I knew, in my heart, that Stephenie Meyer had my back. She would not leave me in tears, though she may extract some along the way.
Alas, we do not live inside a novel. The truth is fantasies are lazy, where your paramours do all the work, are veritable mind readers, say all the right things at the right time, and, bottom line, take on all the responsibility for making it work.
On the other hand, real life partners have no super human capability, but rather will excel at disappointing, scaring, and being seemingly obtuse. Just when you think you want to throw up your hands, they will do something that will make you not want to give up. So, you don’t. Just in case.
Real life romance, especially the later kind when you have years of building the fantasy, shatters a lot of dreams. No one’s got your back. You must design your relationship and author your own story.
So, I decided – not to be bested by Edward and Bella – I would write my own happy ending . It’s one page long, single-spaced, and it goes into great detail about Husband’s and my love story finale, 40 years from now. It’s perfect. Why not? After all, if we don’t start manifesting our own grand finales, who will?
I might even have it framed.
LBB Blog Featured on CBS-19 – Wanna See?
Posted by: | CommentsWowsa. Someone might actually like to hear about what it’s like to be married for the first time over age 40! My friend, long-time blogger Marijean, featured Late Bloomer Bride on her WCAV Channel 19 segment last night.
I’m still blushing a bit, but happy to see so many people tuned in. (Thank you friends for letting me know you did!) If you’d like to check out the story, click on the video below
If you’d like to read Marijean’s post, click here.
(P.S. Husband caught up on all post-reading last night. He wants you to know he takes issue with just one thing – he doesn’t really set the thermostat at 65 degrees. It’s usually set at 68. As if I should feel warmer now. But, I think I’ll keep him anyway.)
Of Commitment and Hot Pink Beach Chairs
Posted by: | CommentsHusband and I went on vacation last week. To our usual spot – The Outerbanks in North Carolina. The NC coast offers some of the most spectacular beaches, wide and white, from which you can gaze endlessly at rolling waves, occasional dolphins, and, of course, the famous Spanish wild ponies (when they decide to make an appearance – living legends cannot be just summoned).
For one week, we laid claim to a ridiculously large house, one that could easily house several families. But, it’s like that every year. It’s not because we feel the need for a different bedroom every night, it’s just that large homes are what’s for rent on the shores of NC. And, we’ve “done” the squeeze-several-families-into-a–beach-house vacation before. Six nights of sleep deprivation, wildly enthusiastic children, and who-took-the-last-beer? comments were enough for us during our one-time try at co-beaching it. Now, we go by ourselves. It just suits us.
So, we packed our usual supplies – beach umbrellas, enough sunscreen to shield Africa, case of favorite wine, cooler, cameras, DVDs and books, and beach chairs, and headed South.
My beach chair, in particular, is an iconic part of my vacation. With me since college, it has been to dozens of beaches, pool sides and even the occasional horse field at my mother’s farm when star gazing was in order on hot August nights. You could say, it’s been around. The white film that coats the aluminum is peeling. The strap used to sling it over a shoulder for easier carrying is long gone. And, the arm is broken and flops around. But, the hot pink synthetic weave still holds tight and it has never collapsed (not a small feat given my on-again, off-again battles of the butt).
My chair is not light. But, it’s not any heavier than any of the other chairs we try out every time we visit a beach supply store. In fact, trying out new beach chairs is a kind of hobby on the first day of every vacation.
First, we assess the variations. Then, we look at the price. $45 for a beach chair, we wonder? Hmmm. Then, it gets lifted up for its weight and we try to remember if it’s lighter than my current chair. Hard to tell. Then, of course, we wonder how long the new chair will last. Longer than our current one? (Is that even possible at this point?)
I am not averse to new. (You just have to peek into my closet at home and understand this.) But, inevitably, we walk out of every store empty handed.
At the close our week, every year, Husband gently suggests we “donate” my chair to the beach house we’ve rented (read: leave it behind). It’s time for a new one, he’d say. Each year, I consider it. But, somehow we end up hauling it back home.
Though an inanimate object, I can’t help but wonder if my chair realizes the commitment I have made to it all these years, so it is just not going to be the first to break it off. Holding itself intact, it will not be the one to give me an excuse to get rid of it and move on. So, a new chair just seems extravagant – and, honestly, a bit like cheating on an old friend — at this point.
So, this year, I said, As long as you have me, you will be packing this beach chair on our vacations. Until it dies, or I do.
We all get attached to things throughout our life, and fall in love with some of the silliest things. But, isn’t it better to be committed –even to hot pink beach chairs?
Quote of the Week
Posted by: | CommentsMarriage is not just spiritual communion; it is also remembering to take out the trash.
~Joyce Brothers
