Sex and marriage…Kristina says it’s no joke
My husband wants to retire by the time he’s 58.
I’m not sure that’d be healthy for either one of us.
You know, me being annoyed, him having a little accident.
Though I would certainly get healthier once the death benefits kicked in.
I’m looking at social media on the couch with my hubby, feeding him out-of-season twig-flavored blackberries.
He’s kinda into crazy car guy stuff, or as I call it, car porn.
Suddenly he sees this adorable Hallowe’en costume our friend made for her 5 year-old son. Basically while wearing it, if he crawls, he’s a car. When he stands up, he becomes Optimus Prime.
It’s adorable. It’s brilliant. Whoever created that is a genius.
My husband is thrilled. He was huge on the Transformers as a preteen. Even now he’s pretending to fix up a Camaro to look like Bumblebee.
So we’re on the couch seeing this smartly-done costume and we’re oohing and we’re ahhing, and I think, “Great, now I have to make one for him next year.”
Then I realize, he’d probably rather see it on me.
“Mmm hmm, Kristina Prime. Bumble-tina. Optimus-mama.”
A lack of vitamin D from weak winter sun can really get to me.
The winter I was 47, it was just a couple of weeks of feeling down.
At 48, I felt like crap for most of February.
49, it was January, February, March, and part of April, and I thought “in a few years they’re gonna do a miniseries about all the crimes I’m going to commit next winter.”
“Crazed housewife serves husband poisonous flower tincture mixed into muffins”.
No…no. That’s just wrong.
I wouldn’t go all out and make muffins. He’d be lucky to get a bowl of cereal.