Smooth Heels and Blue Bell...

Last week was My Birthday Week and I gotta tell you, it was almost over before it began.

It's not what you're thinking.  Even though I had not planned on sharing My Birthday with National Hairball Awareness Day...

I was willing to compromise.  I mean, hairballs are dangerous, y'all. Just thinking about it gets me all choked up.

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But, no.  What really got me was that a few days before My Big Day, Blue Bell Creameries pulled ALL THEIR ICE CREAM off the shelves due to a little ol' Listeria problem.

(If you're not from Texas, let me explain... THEY TOOK ALL OUR ICE CREAM OFF THE SHELVES!  WE ARE VIRTUALLY ICE CREAM-LESS!!!) 

Mighty serious stuff, this is.  

They are holding ice cream prayer vigils in Brenham, Texas.  And rightly so.  Blue Bell comes straight from heaven.  Listeria is from the debil.  Nothing short of divine intervention can help us at this point.

Between the hair balls and the Blue Bell, I was ready to call off the party.  The thought of celebrating My Birthday without Blue Bell Pecans Praline 'n Cream was just downright depressing...

Hoping against hope, I jumped in my car and headed to Walgreen's, praying to Baby Jesus that I would find a rogue carton of Blue Bell. 

Just one little carton... 

I wasn't gonna be picky...

Any flavor would do...

Alas, there was not a single carton of Blue Bell to be found.  The bloody ice cream murderers had done their job well.

(Saddest photo I've ever seen.)

BUT... while I was searching for Blue Bell, in a stroke of serendipity I found this handy gadget:

A battery powered callus remover!  The Perfect Birthday Gift for ME!!

I drove straight home and told Dickie what he needed to get me for My Birthday. (All smart wives know this trick.  Otherwise we end up with stinky bath salts or a weed eater.)

Let me tell you... this man of mine is so well trained that he didn't even blink.  He shut off his power tools, made a precision military turn in his clean white Nike's, got in his truck and drove off into the sunset to buy his woman the desire of her heart.  

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I'm not so far into Blue Bell withdrawal that I can't see all you judgy young brides snickering at me.  I see you out there.  And I fully understand that if you unwrapped a battery powered callous remover from your husband, you would think that the romance is over. 

But you would be wrong.  

Battery powered callous removers are not the end of romance.  You know what is?  The Menopause is.  Just like Listeria, the menopause is the debil.  

You young, moist, nubile chicks need to know this.  Enjoy those plump ovaries while you can, because one day your little nuggets will dry up and unleash a cataclysm causing your body to erupt into night sweats, leaky bladders, weight gain, stray gray hair and funky feet.  

Don't get me wrong.  I can still tear it up in the sheets.  It's just that now... my heels are to blame for tearing up the sheets.  They were so cracked and rough that I could actually file my own toes with 'em.  

And even though I tried really hard to keep my jagged heels off the Dickman, sometimes things would go bump in the night and... BAM! 

Poor guy accused me of wearing spurs to bed.  (Not that there's anything wrong that.)

So keep that smugness to your young, tight-skinned, smooth-heeled selves.  Because I'm here to tell you... True Love is making sure your middle-aged wife has callous-free heels for her birthday.  King-sized sheets are expensive.

DISCLAIMER:  This was not Blue Bell ice cream and I did not cheat.  I only licked the chocolate.