Last Thursday, my husband turned 30. 30, people. Sometimes, I’m still shocked that I have peers who are thirty years old and here I am, married to one of them. To celebrate his old age, we had a lovely dinner at a local Indian restaurant, where the waiters call The Husband “Elvis” and I am “Elvis’ wife.” It’s been a few months since we ate in (we order delivery more often than I’d like to admit), so when we walked into the place, which was packed, they all called out, “Elvis! It’s been so long! How are you?” and took turns shaking my husband’s hand and slapping him on the back, while all the other people wished they were as cool as us. (This welcome was more exciting for him than my carefully chosen gifts were. Figures.)
On Saturday, we met up with my grandmother, the great-aunts, my parents and my cousins at the great-aunts’ house for a belated pizza-and-beer birthday party. I believe I’ve mentioned before that the oldest generation of my family is also the most awesome. While we were waiting for my father to make an appearance with the food, we gathered around the aunts’ living room and told jokes. My favorites were the following, told with impeccable delivery by my great-aunt Carole:
Three mothers are sitting together, discussing the beginning of life. One woman is Catholic, one woman is Christian and one woman is Jewish.
The Catholic woman says, “Life begins at conception!”
The Christian woman replies, “Absolutely not! Life begins when the child is born and you hold him for the first time and he draws his first breath!”
Pausing for a moment, the Jewish woman says, “You’re both wrong. Life begins when all your children are grown and your last dog dies.”
A husband and wife are standing in line at the bank when an armed robber storms in demanding all the cash. After he’s collected his haul, he announces that he will have to kill everyone inside because they have seen his face and may be able to identify him to the police.
The husband, thinking quickly, says, “Well, what if we couldn’t??? Would you spare us?”
The robber replies, “You’re saying you wouldn’t be able to identify me?”
“I wouldn’t be able to,” says the husband, pointing to his wife, “but she would.”
If my husband and I live into our seventies, eighties and nineties and are half as engaged and hilarious as my grandparents and aunts are, I will gladly accept growing old.