The Dependable Wife

James gave me a hug this morning and said, "Thanks for being such a dependable wife. A lot of them aren't." Me being me, my first smirking thought was, "Where does he get such vast, sweeping knowledge of wives who aren't dependable? Who's he been talking to?" But then that loaded remark got to macerating in the back of my mind and started driving me crazy, just like when Chloé said she wished she'd known me when I was fun.

I think the universe is trying to tell me something, like: go out and buy some sturdy, sensible shoes and put a blue rinse in your hair already, why don't you? At this juncture in life, I feel an inherent disconnect. Is "reliable and boring" really my future? Looking back, I see someone spontaneous and funloving, daring and full of possibility. In the mirror, the reflection peering back at me (with her glasses on) says, "Who ARE you?"

Being dependable isn't such a bad rap, though, and if I could aspire to be a certain kind of wife, it would be the kind my grandmother Gigi was. When she passed away, her best friend read Proverbs 31 for the hundreds of people who came to pay their respects, and truer words were never spoken: "A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds."

Okay, maybe James wouldn't take it that far, but I'll take a compliment wherever I can get one, no matter how backhanded it may seem. You can depend on it!