Blabberskipping

I guess I pictured going into my old age engaged in a peaceful passing of time with both of us sitting in rocking chairs reading, listening to music, watching television and laughing occasionally over a joke or two.  Skip would mumble something and I would respond with a word or two.  I might say something like, "What would you like for dinner?" and he might answer, "Anything is fine."    Isn't that how we picture old age?

Instead, I have discovered something I never would have expected.  My husband, Skip has gone through a huge change.  He's not the person I married.  Skip used to be an introvert, very quiet, totally cerebral.  It was a perfect match for me since I talked a lot and he was a good listener.  Suddenly, though, he is exhibiting behavior that makes me think that some alien being has inhabited his body and has taken over his brain.  When we go to parties he is the one most likely to meet and greet, to stand in groups chatting amiably about this and that...the king of small talk.  I, on the other hand, shrink off to a corner to talk to one person.  I went to a party a month ago and I literally searched for something...anything to say.  Of course, in my defense, I was sitting amongst a group of non-working trophy wives who were complaining about struggling to fit into their size 4 jeans.  One young lady actually complained that she had found a grey hair!  I would have spilled my drink on her if I wasn't consumed with getting quietly drunk and needing all of the vodka in my glass. Anyway, back to Skip, he was on the other side of the room entertaining a group with interesting trivia when I looked up to be 'saved'.  Ordinarily I would have caught his eye and even before I suggested it, he would make small gestures of needing to depart.  He would be moving towards the door while I would be wrapped in conversation.  But now, with this current role-reversal, I was wearing a hole in his side as I poked him in reminder that it was getting late and we had to go home to feed the dog.

A few months ago, when I really began to notice this change I asked him if he had been drinking (naturally assuming that it loosened his tongue and inhibitions) but in many situations he is doing nothing more than having a coffee or a glass of iced tea.  In fact, the other night, I was trying to work on a Sudoku puzzle and he wouldn't stop talking.  "Did you know that the longest word in the English language has 45 letters?"

"Really?  What's the word?"

"Hang on...oh, I can't find it.  Hmmm.  It here somewhere.  I just had it on my phone."  (I waited while he continued to thumb through the myriad posts that come to him on his newsfeed.) "Oh, here it is.  It's  a medical term."

"Of course it is!  We don't use those."  I went back to my puzzle but within seconds Skip was throwing out some political commentary from an obscure authority on the subject of the upcoming election.  I feigned interest but when he abruptly changed the subject to discuss taxes and the newest tax laws I began to yawn.  He was still talking when I began to sing a melody in my head that made me smile.  I was in my 'Happy Place' which meant that someone was droning on and on and I had stopped listening.  Finally, It came to me. 'Just be direct,' I told myself.  Then I looked him in the eyes and announced, "Skip! You are blabbering!" Granted, he was informative and interesting, he was sharing and conversational, he was being the perfect husband.  But to me, I was on noise overload.  The TV was on and he was competing with that, with my inner voice, and my puzzle-solving ability.

"What do you mean I'm blabbering? I thought that you might like knowing these things." 

"I do, I do.  But right now, you're being a blabby-butt!" I turned up the volume on the TV as Skip retreated into quiet reflection for a few seconds.  I noticed that he looked hurt and so I apologized.  "Oh Sweetheart, it's cute.  It's just so unlike you."

Skip smiled at me and encouraged by my returning smile he hit me with a full discussion of a project he's working on that involves technological tools I've never heard of.  I took a deep breath and returned to my silent song.  My Sudoku puzzle had to wait until Skip went to bed.  In the morning my husband was awake and chattering on about the latest developments in his newsfeed. ('La-la-la-la,' I sang in my head.)  Now I really shouldn't complain.  Most wives married to the same man for many years would give anything to have lots of conversation rather than spend long quiet evenings just sitting and watching TV.  But honestly, after a full day of brain activity, I just want to vegetate over mindless TV.

The other night he did it again...this time with friends.  He was on a roll and I was trying to unsuccessfully insert a comment when it hit me.  Skip was blabbering and the new term for it was born in the deep recesses of my brain: Blabberskipping!  "Skip!" I announced with dramatic flourish. "You're BLABBERSKIPPING!" So now I've coined a new word.  It doesn't help the fact that I am experiencing this metamorphosis right before my eyes, but at least I have a term for it.  You're welcome, America.