Happy F***ing Birthday—Downhill (or Not What it Used to Be)

Ruth Has a different kind of post for us today. She offers us a monologue by her hilarious character, Blake Weston, from “The Big Six-O,” the first in her “Cozy in the City” series. Here’s Blake facing her 60th birthday: 

by Ruth Harris

From:

• Carbon paper to carbon emissions.
• Edward R. Murrow to Tucker Carlson.
• Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly to the Kardashians.
• Julia Child to TikTok.
• Ernest Hemingway to EL James.
• Dr. Freud to Dr. Phil.
• I Like Ike and All The Way With JFK to MAGA and Sleepy Joe.

No wonder I’m so p*ssed off.

Not just because I’m not getting any younger and not just today, but just about all the time and just about everything.

• On line at the supermarket where I have to bring my own bag and pack my own groceries.
• At the gas station where I have to pump my own gas.
• On hold listening to the robot telling me my call is important.
• At cellphones and their rude, clueless users.
• And Metro cards that don’t work on first swipe.
• And double length buses that make Manhattan’s terrible traffic worse.
• At a new decade that began with the Covid pandemic and continues with  climate change and killer heat waves.

You name it, it bugs me.

And, right now, you could add my DH, Ralph, to the list.

Just because we’d been married since just about forever did it really mean he had to skip French fries and embrace salad, start exercising, and buy a fancy new wardrobe?

How come he had more — and more expensive — skin care and grooming products than I did?

Since when did he spend more time in front of the mirror than I did?

Was it really fair that, almost sixty, he looked like George Clooney while I, just a few years younger, was beginning to look like Phyllis Diller?

Why did women who weren’t even born the year we got married look at Ralph with goo-goo eyes — and why did Ralph have to look back?

I wondered what happened to Ralph and me. The sizzle was gone, domesticity had set in, time and gravity had had their way with both of us.

Or was it just me?

I remember college like it was yesterday and our first apartment, a fourth floor walkup, in a neighborhood so crummy the local gang members were afraid to hang out on the corner.

I remember my first job at Click, the fashion and lifestyle magazine and the day Ralph retired from the NYPD.

And I remember when George Profett, the city’s most neurotic billionaire, hired Ralph to be Profett Media’s Vice President in charge of Security.

I remember all those things — and more — but the more important question is, why don’t I remember how I got to be almost…ahem…mumble-mumble?

What happened to all those years between college and now? How did they go by so fast? What was I doing? Why didn’t I notice?

When, exactly, did I get to be invisible?

When did empty taxis start passing me by and when did the feral perfume ladies in Bloomingdale’s no longer bother to assault me with a spritz?

And when, exactly, did people stop listening to me — even when I knew more about the subject at hand than anyone else in the room?

And how did my shoe size go from 7 to 8 and my bra size from 34 to 36 even though I hadn’t gained any weight (well, not much, anyway)?

When did I stop reading Vogue and start sleeping in flannel pajamas all year because our apartment was cold and drafty in the winter and Ralph blasted the air conditioner in the summer?

Was I one of those women who had let herself go?

Was I about to get dumped for someone newer and younger?

Did I need bikini boot camp, a face lift, a Brazilian wax?

Would a new hair color, a different shade of lipstick or a pair of crotchless panties get Ralph to pay attention to me?

As it turned out, what it took was none of those things.

Instead what made the difference was a murder in Shanghai.

Plus a dire threat from George delivered in a cheapo Vietnamese restaurant, a gung-ho war correspondent with a humongous pair of 36 Double D’s, a washed-up Martha Stewart wannabe trying to make a come back with the help of a red balconette bra and a showdown with a one-eyed, one-legged Afghan warlord who didn’t speak a word of English.

It all began the day I bought a fake Chanel bag from a sidewalk vendor on East Fifty-third Street. I was thrilled with my purchase and knew Ralph, a label snob, would be impressed. Anxious to show off my new bag, I headed for the office, moving faster than I had in years.

So fast, I didn’t notice I was being followed…

by Ruth Harris (@RuthHarrisBooks) July 30, 2023.

BOOK OF THE WEEK

The Big Six-Oh by Ruth Harris

“Loved it! One ex-cop who doesn’t want help solving a murder. One current wife whose help he needs to catch the killer. One couple meant for each other who fall in love all over again after decades of marriage. Funny, exciting and very romantic.” —Reader Review

Blake Weston, is a smart, savvy, no BS former fashion editor. Her handsome, sexy husband, Ralph Marino, is a très James Bond ex-cop and head of security for an international media company.

When Blake buys a faux Chanel bag from a sidewalk vendor, the danger starts—but doesn’t end—with a scary mugging in broad daylight. From there, it escalates to face-to-face encounters with a gun-toting jailbird, a lovelorn Afghan war lord, and a celeb chef in a red balconette bra.

Meanwhile, Ralph is about to hit the Big Six Oh! and he’s not happy about it. Not that Blake is exactly thrilled. Especially now that she suspects Ralph might be cheating on her. Again.

Right when Blake and Ralph are forced to work together by his über-neurotic boss to bring down a deadly global counterfeiting ring—and save Ralph’s job.

“Funny and charming and a delight to read!

Really yummy. It is a rare author who can bring to the page such vivid and believable characters with so much sly wit and style.” —Reader Review

“Perfect for those of us not looking for bubble gum chick lit. 

The relationship between savvy Blake Weston and her ex-cop husband Ralph Marino is realistic and down to earth. And yet the extraordinary circumstances they find themselves in kept me flipping the pages well past my allotted reading time. If you’re looking for a wonderfully fast-paced read that will take your mind off whatever you’re stressing about, Harris’s The Big Six-Oh! will fit the bill.” —Reader Review

Find the Big Six-Oh at these retailers

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