Part 3

Too Old for a Mid-Life Crisis;

Too Young for Medicare

Part III

By Debi Harris

I was getting my hair done and telling Midge about the test I had taken in my last self-help book, “The Enlightened Woman” by Gloria Stenfeld. I failed miserably.

“Don’t you know those kinds are tests are toxic to a marriage!” she exclaimed. “Who needs to know that after years of marriage you’re not compatible? I know just what you and Derek need,” she said, shoving a book in front of me: “Hobbies for the Complete Couple,” by Phil Nickle.

“I don’t know,” I said, scanning the back cover. “Every time I try a new book Derek threatens to have me committed.”

“Just give it a try,” Midge insisted. “It’ll change your life!”

I didn’t think I could stand much more change but decided to give it a try. I cracked it open as soon as I got home.

Chapter 1: Finding a hobby for you and your spouse.

‘Are you looking for a satisfying hobby that both of you can enjoy? Something that will allow you quality time away from the kids? Ask yourself these simple questions: Do you prefer being indoors or outdoors? Do you enjoy walking or is reaching for the remote control your idea of exercise? Do you consider swatting mosquitoes a contact sport?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, you are ready to find the perfect hobby for you and your spouse.

This ought to be good, I thought. I have the hand/eye coordination of a baby wombat.

Saturday morning came and I decided to give it a whirl.

“Honey,” I purred, placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. “What do you say I take up golf with you?”

“WHAT?” he gasped.

“How about I learn to play golf so we can have a mutual hobby? Can’t you just picture it? You and I dressed in our finest golf wear, looking like we just stepped out of a magazine?”

“How about we learn root canal surgery instead,” he answered dryly, “it’d be less painful.”

“You don’t think I can do it?” I tried a sexy pout.

“Whatsa matter? Gotta a stomachache?” he retorted.

After much wheedling, Derek gave in.

An hour later, we were on the links. Derek rented me a set of clubs.

“No use buying any until I know you’re serious,” he explained. (Translation: Until I can talk you out of it.)

I was excited as a Labrador pup and about as coordinated.

Derek stood behind me, trying to show me how to grip the club.

“It’s not a baseball bat,” he huffed. I could hear the frustration in his voice. “Let me show you one more time.”

I stood back and watched as he swung and hit the ball perfectly.

“Wow!” I was awed. “How far into the trees do you think it went?”

I’ve never seen anyone actually make a pretzel out of a golf club before. Of course, the tree he was standing next to helped.

“Let’s try some golfing terms,” he said, dragging me back to the clubhouse.

We sat at a table and sipped soft drinks while Derek tried schooling me in ‘golfese.’

“Okay,” he began, “what’s a driver?”

“The one who gets to drive the golf cart?” I answered.

Shaking his head, he tried again. “What’s a mulligan?”

“I know, it’s that cute sweater I saw in the golf shop!” I guessed.

Slapping his forehead with his palm, he sighed, “No, no, no! Okay, one last question.
“What’s an eagle?”

“Now I know you’re just messing with me,” I replied. “Everyone knows an eagle is the official bird of the U.S.”

“Maybe we’d better try something easier,” he muttered, “like checkers.”

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