The saying I used for my title today is something I saw a lot growing up, usually on a plaque in a gift shop when I was looking for something to have as a souvenir to bring home. I always got something else, often for someone else in the family, like when I brought home a plaque from Bar Harbor that said "Made in Maine by Maniacs" to have in our house because it described everyone who lived there but one.
Mom was "made in Canada"....
But that's not what I came to tell you about. I came to talk about the draft....
No, wait. That's the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement.
What I came to talk about was the fact that, when celebrating his 29th birthday with my son, I realized that I'm getting old. Yeah, I know, if you were to ask him, I've always been old. He'd probably tell you that, not only am I older than dirt, but my first pet was a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
He lies.
It was a saber tooth tiger, and I wouldn't recommend them to anyone. Let me just put it this way for you to picture in your head.
LARGE cat.
small cave
Cat litter in places that I don't want to even discuss........
Ok. Maybe I'm not THAT old. I just feel that old some days.
So how old am I?
I'm old enough to be living in the future I was warned about through books like Ray Bradbury's "Martian Chronicles".
I'm old enough to know better.
According to a friend, I'm old enough to be considered a cougar if I still like looking at young, well built models to represent the characters of my books.
Yeah. So dirt DOES have a few years on me, but on those days when I wake and feel like I was not only run over by a truck, but like the driver backed over me to see what he'd hit, I think about some things that I've heard about aging. This is one of them that seems to say how I feel on those days:.
"I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread." - Bilbo Baggins, "The Fellowship of the Ring" by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Other days, when I'm not feeling quite so bruised and battered just from trying to get a good night's sleep, I realize how young I am.
I'm still young enough to slide into my kayak for a sunrise paddle on the lake down the road from where I live.
I'm young enough to still hike up mountains, though I use a walking stick these days and take a bit longer for the upward march than I used to.
I'm young enough to believe in love at first site, soul mates, and that love can conquer all if the participants are willing to fight for their love.
True, I color my hair, but not so much to cover the gray hairs, of which there are more each year, but rather to lighten the dark, dull color that my hair has gone to with my age. My pale skin just doesn't look right with me as a brunette, especially as I'm prone to big dark circles under my eyes that make people constantly ask me if I'm sick or perhaps just tired. (Frankly, I get sick and tired of being asked if I'm sick and/or tired....*grin*)
I use products that are supposed to help the skin around my eyes, not so much because I'm worried about crows feet, but to get rid of some of those dark circles I mentioned above.
I have owned a cane since the tender age of 36, when I was working as a janitor and caused an accumulative disc injury in my lower back. On certain days, when the weather and my activity level cause the disc in my back to swell up, I have to use the cane as something other than a threat of something to beat my kids with when they're getting too rude about my age.
I'm always surprising people when I reveal my true age, as obviously I don't behave like I'm really the age that I am. I always tell them that I don't know HOW to act my age, as I've never been this age before....
And I always have little poems or quotations that can express how I feel:
"Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter"
- Jack Benny
"I dread no more the first white in my hair,
Or even age itself, the easy shoe,
The cane, the wrinkled hands, the special chair.
Time, doing this to me, may alter too
My anguish, into something I can bear."
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
"Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many."
- unknown
Like the friend who likes to tease me about my "cougar tendencies", I'll keep coloring my hair only until the roots are lighter than the color I would be using on them. Like the cougar she accuses me of being, I'll continue to look at photos of handsome young men to represent the love interest in my romance novels and will admire the many shapes and colors they come in. (I also admire the way the young female models are put together as well, but for some reason, I don't get as much grief for seeing the artistic beauty of a portrait of a young woman as I do for a young man. I've never quite understood why, when I've felt no urges to "hit" anything other than my husband's bod for years now, people always insist that, if I admire a male and a female equally, I must be wanting to "jump his bones" while I just want to BE her.......)
And don't let me hear any of you making jokes about my age.
I'll hit you with my cane.
Mom was "made in Canada"....
But that's not what I came to tell you about. I came to talk about the draft....
No, wait. That's the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement.
What I came to talk about was the fact that, when celebrating his 29th birthday with my son, I realized that I'm getting old. Yeah, I know, if you were to ask him, I've always been old. He'd probably tell you that, not only am I older than dirt, but my first pet was a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
He lies.
It was a saber tooth tiger, and I wouldn't recommend them to anyone. Let me just put it this way for you to picture in your head.
LARGE cat.
small cave
Cat litter in places that I don't want to even discuss........
Ok. Maybe I'm not THAT old. I just feel that old some days.
So how old am I?
I'm old enough to be living in the future I was warned about through books like Ray Bradbury's "Martian Chronicles".
I'm old enough to know better.
According to a friend, I'm old enough to be considered a cougar if I still like looking at young, well built models to represent the characters of my books.
Yeah. So dirt DOES have a few years on me, but on those days when I wake and feel like I was not only run over by a truck, but like the driver backed over me to see what he'd hit, I think about some things that I've heard about aging. This is one of them that seems to say how I feel on those days:.
"I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread." - Bilbo Baggins, "The Fellowship of the Ring" by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Other days, when I'm not feeling quite so bruised and battered just from trying to get a good night's sleep, I realize how young I am.
I'm still young enough to slide into my kayak for a sunrise paddle on the lake down the road from where I live.
I'm young enough to still hike up mountains, though I use a walking stick these days and take a bit longer for the upward march than I used to.
I'm young enough to believe in love at first site, soul mates, and that love can conquer all if the participants are willing to fight for their love.
True, I color my hair, but not so much to cover the gray hairs, of which there are more each year, but rather to lighten the dark, dull color that my hair has gone to with my age. My pale skin just doesn't look right with me as a brunette, especially as I'm prone to big dark circles under my eyes that make people constantly ask me if I'm sick or perhaps just tired. (Frankly, I get sick and tired of being asked if I'm sick and/or tired....*grin*)
I use products that are supposed to help the skin around my eyes, not so much because I'm worried about crows feet, but to get rid of some of those dark circles I mentioned above.
I have owned a cane since the tender age of 36, when I was working as a janitor and caused an accumulative disc injury in my lower back. On certain days, when the weather and my activity level cause the disc in my back to swell up, I have to use the cane as something other than a threat of something to beat my kids with when they're getting too rude about my age.
I'm always surprising people when I reveal my true age, as obviously I don't behave like I'm really the age that I am. I always tell them that I don't know HOW to act my age, as I've never been this age before....
And I always have little poems or quotations that can express how I feel:
"Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter"
- Jack Benny
"I dread no more the first white in my hair,
Or even age itself, the easy shoe,
The cane, the wrinkled hands, the special chair.
Time, doing this to me, may alter too
My anguish, into something I can bear."
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
"Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many."
- unknown
Like the friend who likes to tease me about my "cougar tendencies", I'll keep coloring my hair only until the roots are lighter than the color I would be using on them. Like the cougar she accuses me of being, I'll continue to look at photos of handsome young men to represent the love interest in my romance novels and will admire the many shapes and colors they come in. (I also admire the way the young female models are put together as well, but for some reason, I don't get as much grief for seeing the artistic beauty of a portrait of a young woman as I do for a young man. I've never quite understood why, when I've felt no urges to "hit" anything other than my husband's bod for years now, people always insist that, if I admire a male and a female equally, I must be wanting to "jump his bones" while I just want to BE her.......)
And don't let me hear any of you making jokes about my age.
I'll hit you with my cane.
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