You know how you see those silly infomercials and think to yourself, “Now why didn’t I think of that and market it and make millions?”
But then again, who wants to have their face attached to “The Perfect Omelet” maker for decades?
C’mon, think with me..
It inevitably evokes an overly friendly blonde, Susan Sommers to be precise and possibly even one or two flashbacks from a really bad “Three’s Company” episode.
Then again, were there any good ones?
Anywho I have something that I think I came up with.
I haven’t a good way to market it so here on the ole blog is about as close to fame as I will get.
It’s the undate.
No that’s no typo. It’s called the “Un-date.”
And if you have been married for more than a year than you have most likely had one.
And tonight as I type I am headed out to one myself.
The smell of aftershave mingled with perfume he picked out just for you fills the car, and visions of Mexican dance in your head but alas! You know what is coming.
Now on average I am a pretty happy go lucky person.
But about sixish I become a realist.
And it is the realist in me that reminds me that it has been tooo long since our last time out, for even five minutes alone.
This added too many diaper changes and hamburger helpers to count spells out u-n-d-a-t-e.
It looks like a date. It smells like a date.
But it’s not.
It is a fancy family debriefing.
Usually with a lot of sighs and small cafuffles.
It is the result of human pressure and love tanks running on empty.
Now, before you boo hoo me, I love being out with my husband anytime anywhere.
I love talking with him, laughing with him, and most of all praying with him.
I just do not cherish the long talks over bills and home school dilemmas, which undoubtedly have to be talked about, figured out, and the all around home plan brushed up.
So tonight as we undate we know that we will leave happier and lighter…..
And ready for a real deal “date” in another week or so.
But we must unload, d-stress, and mottle thru tonight.
Over delish Mexican.