I’ve mentioned the attorney and his wife who send their magazines home with me once they’ve read them: Cottage Living, Southern Living, Texas Highways, Better Homes and Gardens, Where to Retire. The latter just cracks me up. I learned this morning, while the bathtub was filling, that I could not afford to live in my old home town. Median prices are just under $300K, but it’s supposedly an excellent retirement place. I guess I’ll have to find that Texas oilman first, right?
Actually, what catches my eye in that magazine is not the page after page of advertisements for “active living” [though I’m definitely in favor of it, have been doing it all my life and plan to continue until the sand runs out of my hourglass]; I cannot imagine the boredom [for me; I’m with Twain that it’s a good walk, spoiled] of living alongside a golf course, though I guess the chance of getting beaned by a golf ball through my kitchen window might up the adventure quota a bit, or the poverty of being surrounded only by people “55 or better”.
What catches my eye is the male half of the happy couples the ads portray. He’s hugging her, she’s beaming at the camera, and you get the feeling that after he takes out the trash he says, “Let’s go for a nice walk before it gets too hot outside, and then we can ride our Harleys down to the yarn store and you can stock up while it’s on sale. I’ll go back with the pickup truck and bring home your haul while you take a nap. And after you’ve added it to your stash on Ravelry, let’s mess around.”
My kind of man. And if he’s a knitter himself or is willing to convert, so much the better! We could have long, leisurely yarn crawls across the southwestern US until we get to California, take Mr. and Mrs. Twisted out to dinner, and drive on up the coast to meet Punkin and Ms. Knitingale, coming back through U-tahr to see Tan and Tola. I’d also like to meet MonicaPDX.
And by the time this paragon of grey-haired knitting virtue shows up, there will probably be dozens of others that we will want to meet.
Hey, you have your fantasies. I’ll have mine.
[Five rows to go before moving on to Clue 5 on MS3.]
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!