I thought about it a lot. I agonized over. I lost sleep thinking about it. And then, yesterday, I did it. I traded in my beloved Mitsubishi Eclipse GTS on a mid-sized SUV. Sigh. I like the SUV. If I would have bought it before I bought my Eclipse, it probably would have made my skirt fly up. But I didn't do that, so my skirt is only fluttering right now.
Does this mean my mid-life crisis is over? I gave up leather seats and a sun roof and a car that cornered like crazy with a ton of power. I traded that for a nice, practical, comfortable, roomy 4WD. Honestly, I'm not complaining. I'm just trying to figure me out.
Am I going to start wearing granny panties now? Elastic waist jeans? Will I find myself going to the beauty parlor to have my hair set? Is Geritol in my future? Will Sunday evenings find me sitting in front of Lawrence Welk on TV, with a folding metal TV tray before me where I play solitaire with paper cards? (Do they still make those?) I am already being accused of listening to old people's music. LOL.
What's next? Aqua-aerobics while wearing a pink rubber cap with plastic daisies all over it? I already have trouble opening jars. Oh, dear. I could be in trouble.
I hope you'll tell me, dear ones, if you hear me saying things like, "Kids these days..." and, "When I was your age, I walked 12 miles to school! In the snow! And it was uphill both ways!". If you catch me doing that, grab me by my blue hair and yell into my ear that I'm showing my age.
Being middle-aged is pretty darn comfortable most of the time. I'm not old enough to go in for orthopedic shoes, and the sweet hubs and I never EVER wear matching Western shirts. I am, however, old enough to not worry so much about what people think. (To tell you the truth, I'm kind of looking forward to being old enough to speak my mind on all occasions, and be forgiven for that.)
Still, I am aware that I am already showing my age. I still do simple math with a paper and pen, for one thing. I can make change. I care about spelling, grammar and punctuation. I know how to can produce, make jelly and bread, pluck a chicken, sew a dress, make cheese, cook on a wood-fired stove, crochet, and I can even darn a sock. But also know (right off the top of my head!) what the IP address is for a the print server and why I need to know that; I can configure a new email account and don't have to refer to notes.
But I still can't remember my son's phone number.
I'm going to blame that on the cell phone's contact list.
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