Last time there was a lot of big talk about living the dream. And god knows there’s a lot about this life that is decidedly dreamy, like looking at this every evening…
But there are sacrifices to be made if one wants to live as I do. And I’m not just talking about going without Miracle Whip.
The other day I watched as two women engaged in a lengthy chat. I could tell they knew each other well—there was that easy, touchy, laughing then serious then back to laughing camaraderie between gals who have gone through thick and thin together. I wasn’t close enough to hear what language they were speaking, I didn’t need to be. They were speaking womanese and that’s a language I know well.
I often long for my friends: Krista and Jill and Monique and Nancy. Bonny and the girly gaggle of psychiatrists and all the other fabulous femmes who have graced my life so far, too many to name here. I’m in regular contact with all my ladies in Canada, but it’s not the same as just hanging out for no good reason whenever the hell you feel like it.
One can have as enviable a set-up as can be imagined and yet the need for the stand-by sisterhood persists. Sometimes you just want to sit with someone and laugh at how bad a haircut is, drift effortlessly into the latest on reproductive rights legislation, then conduct a comprehensive review of the season’s heel and hemline heights, followed by an in-depth analysis of relationships—Israel and Palestine, you and your significant other, whatever.
So far, any serious attempts at grooming Neil to fill the void have been relatively unsuccessful. He doesn’t read books. He’s not one to get excited about art and music. He doesn’t get how scary skinny jeans are. He’s not a big talker and despite all my training efforts he still can’t see why his “Whatever makes you happy,” to my “Do you think I should let my hair grow?” is entirely unacceptable. I could make a whole afternoon (and a bottle of wine) disappear on that one question alone with any woman I know.
Although all may not be lost. The other day we were looking at pictures and he was noting the presence of a double chin (his, not mine). Later that day, after a few minutes in the mirror, he turned to me and asked, “Do you think my face makes me look fat?” I’d say he’s just about ready for a Saturday of shoe shopping.
I know what you mean, Bobbi. When we first moved up here, all my friends were back in Ohio–easier to visit than if we’d moved to Europe, sure, but we were all busy with new jobs and new families and I missed them very much.
Thank heavens my husband actually enjoys shoe shopping!
Hilarious! I have completely given up on my Other Half – his answer to everything is “alright”. My Questions, how do I like, what do you think of these shoes, this dress etc etc “its alright”. I have instead turned my attention to the cats, dogs, chickens, ducks and geese that I keep – I find that I get far more meaningful responses… get a budgie!
Too funny, anyway welcome to the club Bobbi. I am married to “Mr. Canadian Tire”, no shoe shopping for my guy. However, I do have a couple of tricks up my sleeve to get him into the Malls. Really enjoying your New Years Postings. Keep “thinking with your heart” girl and you will be lead in the right direction. Happy New Year. CHEERS.
Totally get it. When we moved to Texas eons ago, I missed my girlfriends most of all. These were talk-every-day kind of friends and this was before the day of free long distance. Ugh. The worst.
Awe! I get it, I am in the same boat! I miss my 5 oldest buddies of 35 years or so… nothing can replace them. Thanks for the good laugh this morn! Neil, Fat, no!
Did Neil take those pictures with his phone, too? Those mountains! Unbelievably beautiful. I can only imagine how different your breathing has become.
Ah, no iPhone shots today. These mountain shots were taken with a proper camera and a 300mm lens. He says they were a bit over-exposed and he did some post work on them.
loved your book and living life vicariously on your blog. Spontaneously, quit my professional career last year, looking for that elusive what comes next – I want to experience more now with empty nest and husband passed away too young – was researching move to France – far better to have read your story and to learn that I couldn’t manage it solo. Soak it in and please keep sharing while we sort it all out.
Oh, I hear you. My darling husband is gone 27 days a month now, and when he’s home or we’re on the phone together, the conversation is mostly about the traffic on the I-5. I’d have to turn off my chick side altogether if not for Suzy, who’s meeting me for drinks and cheesecake tomorrow night. We’re wearing our fat pants, of course.
He’s evolving for sure :)
Those pictures are gorgeous.
I get this Bobbi. I still miss my Toronto posse 12 years on. But am certain you will make some additional (not replacement) friends, too.
Totally with you. My man does a pretty good job though. Mind you lengthy pointless phone calls can be life saving. Time zones are funny – I’ll be on the wine and they’ll be at breakfast. Miss them. We’re maybe mad.
Yeah I’ve tried to groom my kids into girlfriends and they just walk off! Nothing like a true mate. Mine all require kilometres or plane flights to reach as well. Oh well.