Gee, Joan, almost all of your assumptions are incorrect, although it is the writer's responsibility to communicate, so it is murky how this all came to be.
First of all, one of the things my husband and I have in common is a love of tapioca pudding. He is going to be very displeased when he discovers that I have no willpower whatsoever, and ate the last of it. And we both love gardens. So sitting around eating pudding and looking at a garden is not really something either of us would look upon in a condescending way. To someone like you who does NOT like tapioca pudding, though, I can understand how you perceived it that way.
Secondly, my husband in particular is terrified of ending up decrepit. As he describes it, "when I end up in a wheelchair with a pissbag, please just feed me a whole box of See's chocolates and then push me off a cliff." So he is definitely not thinking "I never WILL be like that."
And I am very gradually turning into a crone myself. In fact, I bought a piece of art seriously called "The Crone" and am planning to get it framed soon. This crone is wizened and not wearing any clothes, although you cannot see below her sagging wizened breasts. So while I am reveling in becoming a crone, I DO plan to keep right on having sex. I had a lovely model for that, a very passionate grandmother who, having been widowed by two husbands, fell in love again at eighty and LIVED IN SIN with the widowed husband of her sister for several months before they got married. |
