Mind Bomb: Its not that Musical on the Hill

I have spent the day talking emotional subjects with a dear friend who is close to me.  And strangely that statement in itself is a trainwreck.  He lives in Georgia.  I've known him for a long time, I met him blogging.  Funny thing is, we became friends over words.  His exact message to me:  'You spelled paraphrenalia correctly.  I think I love you.'  And we ruled chatting for a long time.  Then we called each other.  Praise everything I met GiGi.  He saved my husband's life and quite possibly my marriage.  How cool a person is that?  One that I have never met, know all his family's history and its never boring.  Parenting, Books, Philosphy, Trivia, Aging... all on conversations that just galvanize me still.  All my friends have said Hi to my GiGi.  John, Nattie..sisters, cousins, friends... because that's how I am.  It takes a strange person to be friends with a bug like me.  Being Big Magic has  become a journey for me.. I draw lines.  I don't accept.  I do tell.  I say NO.  Firmly.  Up front, and well Gigi is the only person to brave it all.  I count on Gigi.  He matters.  He's been married for over 30 years.  That is so incredible.  *the hills are alive with the sound of music* I can't help if you cringe in disgust because I believe in *Doe, a Deer?*  Gigi please absorb the awe and let me ignore the whole disclaimer of what there is and what I imagine not existing somehow! *bright paper packages tied up with strings*  ~I suddenly stop clutching drapes~ 

THAT was some revelry.  Not just make believe.  [My mother bought me the Bradford Exchange plate of Julie Andrews]

I stomp around huffing.  Typing this in a huff happens to make quite the empathic clatter.

GIGI*  how can you not see your greatest adventure is sitting in his very home waiting to be rediscovered... his wife.

I ask him when was the last time he kissed his wife with tongues.  Or when was the last time he fondled anything?  Or Ogled her?

I made my friend blush and stammer and I was not trying to embarrass him.  I was serious.

I told him I would hound him until he did so, because I could not and would not believe he was dead, based on factual knowledge of who he was and of men in general..

May my husband kiss me with tongue in his late 60s, may he ogle and fondle.

Because I didn't think men had just as many mid life crisis as women did, but apparently, they do.

I refuse to think I'm going to shrivel up and die and give in to the fact I'm going to be an old shoe.  Being an old shoe is a state of mind, and I will not let my husband become something in my way.

I'm in love.

And intend to stay that way.

with Tongues.