My wife has a little plaque hanging on the wall of her art studio. She’s a fiber artist who makes quilted landscapes and something called “temari,” which are decorative Japanese thread balls. She sells her wares in a local art gallery. If you want to see her work, just go to FiberArtsByBecky.com. Anyway, that plaque, which she got when we both retired in 2005, says: “Help me! My husband retired and he doesn’t have a hobby!”
I was thinking of that plaque when I opened my email inbox today. There were scores of letters from readers of my column. I probably get hundreds of emails every week from across the country. And for the most part, I’m not complaining—and my wife is rejoicing. Answering those emails has become my hobby. It keeps me out of her hair. My wife can work on her little crafts in peace upstairs while I work on my “hobby” downstairs. (That’s part of the secret to a 47-year marriage!)
