60 years? No foolin'?

My brother called last week to remind me that my mom and dad's 60th wedding anniversary is coming up. I live 1200 miles away, won't be there in person, and couldn't suggest any brilliant ways to mark the occasion.

They have an odd relationship, looking at it from the outside, but I guess a marriage that lasts 60 years must have something going for it. Underneath all the grousing and crabbing, and there is a lot of grousing and crabbing, they really do love each other deeply. They've cared for each other through some really scary health problems over the last couple of years. They're tough, the both of them.

Deciding I totally don't understand my parents' marriage got me started thinking about my own family-type situation, which I also don't understand. Scarecrow and I aren't married. We've been together -- let's see -- it would be 21 years this past January, and our daughter is 19, but I hate to rush into things. I don't know what kind of future Scarecrow might've been anticipating. He's not one to talk about stuff like that. But my increasing disability over the last couple of years makes it clear that, if he's with me, it's going to be way different from anything either of us would have guessed. We won't be doing any of the things we used to enjoy doing -- playing music, dancing, traveling. At least, we won't be doing them together. So, if it's still 'we', what will we be doing?

I've spent plenty of time lately thinking about how I'll be spending my time now that I no longer have a day job. I guess we'll want to think about what retirement will look like for us.

I'll put it on my list.

We have an appointment with the nice folks at Social Security tomorrow afternoon, to apply for SSDI. I can no longer put off looking through the packet of stuff they sent. I'm going to do that. Right now. It'll be fun.