There was a time in my life where I wore a dress or skirt every day and dressed up for going to the theater or out to dinner. When Jack was at VMI, we attended five formal events a year. And I loved it. Then I got real.
I don’t live in New York or a city where one is expected to dress way above casual for a meal out. And I don’t party—even for New Year’s Eve. In effect, I’m a party pooper. I value comfort over fashion, function over form. I can’t even remember the last time I had a dress on…
That’s not to say that I don’t love seeing girls decked out for a prom come into a restaurant. Or posing for pictures on the street. I think fondly on the days when I used to do that. The pictures make me nostalgic. But not so nostalgic that I want to go back to the good old days.
Fortunately for me, I don’t have a husband who insists on nights on the
town either. The last time I suggested he wear a tie to an event he looked at me as though I had two heads.
I’m safe.
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!
Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!
Next spring, hubby Jack and I will be married 46 years. Considering that we dated for nearly seven years before that and had met two years prior to dating, we’ve known each other, dated, and been married almost 55 years. When I say it feels like forever, you can understand what I mean. When I say that it feels like yesterday maybe you’ll know what I mean, too. When we were falling in love, saying we’d be together forever sounded so easy. Hahahahaha! How naive! It hasn’t all been easy but it’s all been worthwhile, and made easier by being able to laugh, both at ourselves and with each other.
Mexico once, for a harried, scary trip (do they have the concept of stop signs down? Not that I could tell.). For almost eight years, we were hardly apart except to go to the bathrooms, living in an 8 x 8 foot truck cab. There were times I wanted to murder Jack but I never considered divorce. (I’m sure he never wanted to murder me—I was the epitome of the perfect traveling companion.) And if you’re prone to divorce at all, driving a truck together will get you there faster than a CHP officer can write a speeding ticket. Those were great days!
After not graduating and leaving Virginia Military Academy in his junior year, Jack went back to school at age 63. Far from not graduating, he got his diploma and graduated summa cum laude! I’m so proud of him.