I had to drive Aisling over to the church for music rehearsal late this afternoon and I decided to sit in the van in the far corner of the parking lot where I could commune with nature without it's getting too close to me. Because I am all for the beauty of God's creation; it's just that I only want to see it through windows. It's hot out there. And sometimes cold. With bugs.
So as I was sitting there looking at a big tree, random thoughts were running through my head as they do for all of us at times, but today mine seemed to have a theme and the theme was "Middle Age is Here to Stay," subtitled "Why I Am a Cranky Old Boot." Can those of you who are near my age (which is forty-six) relate to any of this, or should I put on a little sweater and some pearls with my white Keds tennis sneakers and go sit with my step-gran at the assisted living center?
Please say yes, that you think these thoughts. Just....please.
Here it all is as I scribbled on a piece of paper I found on the floor:
1. Found self thinking about the good old days, particularly at White Estates pool, after hearing the song "Band on the Run" while shopping at Kroger on Wednesday. "Band on the Run" is one of the definitive songs of my all-day-at-the-pool childhood -- I can smell the Coppertone upon hearing the opening chords. Have always believed that wistful reminiscences of one's childhood were the hallmark of the aged, along w/ harangues about walking to school in three feet of snow. Very worried about self. Surely forty-six is too young for this kind of thinking.
2. Have achieved an age where can go to the deli, critically survey an entire display of delicious-looking salads, spreads, dips and kitschy desserts (Jell-O salad w/ grapes, pineapple, carrots, celery; rice pudding; ambrosia) and then turn away with a sigh because I know that, in spite of the effort I'd have to expend, I already have a good recipe for every item in the case and can probably make it better and cheaper. Can clearly remember when spinach dip with water chestnuts seemed like the height of haute cuisine chip-dippery. Silly girl.
3. Find self getting increasingly cross w/ teenagers booming "music" at stoplights in their cars and grimly predicting their impending deafness. O help, what is happening to me.....
4. No longer want young, hip whippersnapper with multiple tattoos and pierced eyebrows named "Chance" or "Mysti" to cut and style my hair -- he/she will make me look like an idiot, giving me a look they would want to see on their own twenty-something heads, but instead on my forty-something head. Much prefer to have hair done by sweet-looking thirty-something who will be respectful of my position as someone who remembers Dorothy Hamill and Princess Diana haircuts and who spent her time off from beauty school reading her Bible instead of getting her tongue pierced.
SURVIVOR! 42 years! #SisterhoodoftheTravelingPinkSweater - [image: photo DCE66A95-A69B-406C-A811-97D584B6979A_zpsuhhubjtt.jpg] This is my friend Mary. Mary is a 42-year survivor of breast cancer. That, of course, is...
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