Here is a moment of reality. We celebrated our 23rd anniversary this week. Twenty-three years and we still like each other, still have fun, laugh at stupid things, do stupid things. And, silly us, still think we're twenty.
For our anniversary we went to Branson. Not a big deal, but we had a blast. I love the Branson Landing. I love sitting outside at Garfields, watching boaters on the lake, listening to the band. But right away we got caught by a kiosk vendor peddling miracle beauty products. So, now for reality. We're walking down the sidewalk and Michell (a guy) approaches us. "Come, sit here, let me show you this miracle from the Dead Sea." (insert cute accent)
Sure, why not. I sit down. Michell begins to rub my hands with Dead Sea Salt scrub. My husband and I are laughing, thinking this is fun. Michell asks what I do. I tell him I write romance novels. He asks if I can put him in a book. but make him tall. Of course I can, but he'll have to be a bull rider. As I scrub my hands, Michell begins to touch my face, look at my eyes. A little freaky, but okay.
And then he says, "I have something to get rid of those wrinkles, too."
Michell was no longer cute or funny. And he'll never be a hero in a book. HEROES DON'T NOTICE WRINKLES. But I bought the stinking bottle of eye serum and I have to admit, it works.