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As an aspiring writer, I blog about whatever happens to move me at the moment -- though some posts contain serious content, my big-picture goal is to bring a little humor into an often humorless world! Welcome, y'all, and make yourself at home! Please make sure you update your bookmarks!

When you are offended at any man's fault, turn to yourself and study your own failings. Then you will forget your anger...Epictetus

Wednesday, June 22, 2011


So, I'm getting older. Not much I can do about it -- the only remedy for getting old is dying young and I'd just as soon stick around for awhile. After all, I've got a new little one in my life that I've got to teach a thing or two. When parents get ridiculous (and we/they all do), that's when grandparents step in to set everyone straight. We just can't be too obvious about it.

Anyway, this aging thing is not a lot of fun. Because of the DNA I so blessedly received, unless they discover a new wonder drug, I'm going to suffer with arthritis for the rest of my life, and it's likely to get worse instead of better. Also, because of inherited traits, I have high blood pressure and thyroid issues but they are under control. I have a few gray hairs -- including stupid "sideburns" that stick out like something scared me half to death. It's just a part of the way it is and, like anybody else, I'm dealing with the hand I was dealt as gracefully as possible.

But there are some good things about getting older. There are times now when I can truly say "don't have to, don't wanna, ain't gonna'". I don't have to worry about being "cool" or "with it" because I really don't care and, if I did, who else would? There's not much worse than an "older" person trying to hold onto a youth that has gone with the wind. No, I'm not completely comfortable in my skin -- I've never seen a photo of myself that I really liked -- I need to lose weight and it worries me but mostly for health reasons -- and in those moments of sheer rage when I'm trying on clothes. I have that deadly combination of love food/hate exercise. But, otherwise, the wrinkles are here to stay and, though I never say never, there won't be any Botox going on anytime soon.


It's one thing to look in the mirror and see yourself -- I've done it for many, many years -- there hasn't been anything that has surprised me. I haven't gotten up one morning and found any drastic change from the day before. Same with the people I see every day -- my children grew up -- but, as with all aging, it was gradual. They were not little, then suddenly, big. Neither was my belly. My husband looks the same to me now as he did back then -- though if I look back at pictures of ourselves, this is not actually the case -- but, living day to day, the passage of time is just not that noticeable.

But then, I see pictures of people I used to know -- people who I have not had the privilege of seeing from day to day, week to week or even year to year. For some of them, Father Time has been generous; for others, not so much. And the thing is, I don't know where I fit in the spectrum because we never see ourselves the way others do. This can be good or bad and maybe it's better to never know which one it is. Anyway, it's seeing my contemporaries that make me realize that time has indeed been parading by while I was busy doing something else. And, while on the inside, my thought processes and the things that make me tick, haven't changed all that much, the outside surely has to those who haven't been around to watch me gradually get older.

And then there's Men Without Hats.

What, you may ask, are you talking about this time, fangurl?

Well, they were group which had one major (and, maybe one minor) hit back in the early 80s. The lead singer was named Ivan -- I even called a character in one of my (unpublished) novels by that name. I could Safety Dance until the cows came home -- though I had no idea what a "safety dance" actually was (I do now...thank you Wikipedia...it only took me nearly 30 years to figure it out). Watching the video of the song just recently (that would be thanks to YouTube), I was transported back to another time and I couldn't keep my feet still but, oh, Lord, why didn't I just stop there?

But, no, I had to look Ivan up and what he was doing today and reality hit me with a thunk. He is, like me, no longer young -- and no longer hirsute -- which is why, perhaps, he's wearing a hat nowadays. Anyway, I've been trying to reconcile then and now, though I'm not at all sure that reconciliation is actually possible.

I'm also thinking safety dance might have a whole other meaning nowadays -- like be careful, because if you fall off that stage, it's gonna' hurt like hell.

Apparently, Men Without Hats (Ivan is the only original member  -- which included two of his brothers -- participating) is going on tour.

With the B-52s.

Call me jaded -- I prefer realistic -- but I just don't think that love shack is going to be shimmying like it used to.

But I'd pay to see it.

If I can stay up that late.

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