This is a time of change … I’m getting myself emotionally prepared for the children leaving home, and as I get closer and closer to 50 I’m wondering what I can do with the next half a century rather than just sitting on the front porch moaning about the weeds and shaking my fists at the neighbourhood children.
As I look at my husband I am also startlingly aware that he is the only member of the family likely to stick around for much longer.
So I guess it’s time to do something about his high blood pressure and generous beer belly. I have warned him that if he doesn’t lose a bunch of weight during the course of the landscaping season then I’m putting him on a diet in the winter. He doesn’t seem to have taken the threat to heart and I’m not sensing any commitment to the concept of healthy eating.
In fact, just the other evening when faced with a delightful dinner of left-overs I found him frying up a pork chop, which I felt was somewhat counter-productive to the weight loss goal. “I’m not frying”, he said “I’m just warming it up in some melted butter”. Seriously? Isn’t that pretty much the definition of ‘frying’?