Thirty-five. 35. Three and a half decades.
On Monday I will turn 35. Seems nearly impossible that I am somewhere in that gray category where "middle-aged" becomes a term I can use to describe myself. I feel much more comfortable inside my own little non-reality, where I am still young, and hip, and in the know about all things hot and current in the world. That's how I still see me.
Then the grocery bagger calls me "Ma'am" and he's not the first this week, or I get yet another AARP flyer in the mail (I'm SURE I'm still too young for that, right?), or I hear another creak or pop in my bones when I trek up and down the stairs.
Ugh.
Then I am reminded of the years that have come and gone, by various things - that I have been out of school longer than I was IN school. That my next high school reunion (a rousing good time at a hog farm, or some other equally classy venue) will be my 20 year reunion in just three years. I still wake up most mornings thinking I AM 20 for cripe's sake (until I take my first steps out of bed and catch a glimpse of my so-not-20-year-old body in the mirror).
And so here comes 35. Seems impossible. I know, I already said that. But it really does. My BIL (now ex-BIL but whatever) turns 40 next week - I remember when I used to think he was WAY older than me. My dad will turn 60 two days later. That seems even MORE impossible.
We all seem to be aging, as is the way of it, but then I consider how much more we've to go, God willing. Greg and I won't "retire" for ANOTHER 30 years, almost as long as we've been alive already! That's reassuring! I still have at least 14 years with Samantha at home (hopefully longer, although I reserve the right to change my mind about that in about 12), at least 17 with Mr Jackson, and while I know they will fly by, they seem like a lot of years right now. And that's good news. This life is pretty good most days and I relish the idea of having forty or so more years of it to come.
So come on, 35, I'm ready. Bring whatever you will this year for me - I can take it. I think. Just let me get some sleep and take my vitamins first.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Has it been two weeks?
Seems impossible that I haven't blogged since the 14th! Weird!
All is well here, except for this spring cold we are all sharing. Hope it passes quickly!
Today it's 70 outside at 2:00. So when Greg gets home we'll be venturing outside for yardwork and playing in the newly-barked play area with the swing set (OK, so we still have to move that), and maybe even a picnic outside. I am SO freaking stoked about having a nice, non-windy day.
I'm down 21 pounds in 2+ months - hallelujah for South Beach, baby! It's all good, and I know the next 20 are going to come off if I do what I'm supposed to do, and that keeps me going. The new South Beach updated book came out, I want to get that and see what new discoveries Dr. A has made. Updates on that to come!
Mrs M and I had a FABULOUS garage sale last weekend, and pulled in close to $600 in total! We kick ASS at garage sales, and hope to one again in the future. The hubbys both took each of our two kids and took care of them for the duration, so MAJOR kudos to Greg and to Mr M, you guys are the two best hubbies I know!
Gotta go for now, but I wanted to post a short BLOG so you didn't think I fell of the planet! More later!
All is well here, except for this spring cold we are all sharing. Hope it passes quickly!
Today it's 70 outside at 2:00. So when Greg gets home we'll be venturing outside for yardwork and playing in the newly-barked play area with the swing set (OK, so we still have to move that), and maybe even a picnic outside. I am SO freaking stoked about having a nice, non-windy day.
I'm down 21 pounds in 2+ months - hallelujah for South Beach, baby! It's all good, and I know the next 20 are going to come off if I do what I'm supposed to do, and that keeps me going. The new South Beach updated book came out, I want to get that and see what new discoveries Dr. A has made. Updates on that to come!
Mrs M and I had a FABULOUS garage sale last weekend, and pulled in close to $600 in total! We kick ASS at garage sales, and hope to one again in the future. The hubbys both took each of our two kids and took care of them for the duration, so MAJOR kudos to Greg and to Mr M, you guys are the two best hubbies I know!
Gotta go for now, but I wanted to post a short BLOG so you didn't think I fell of the planet! More later!
Monday, April 14, 2008
New Blog Feature: Fast Food Follies
I cannot remember the last time we ate out and got everything we asked for, got good quality food, and/or didn't wait a week and a half for it. The gene pool is getting so damn shallow that apparently finding people who are smart enough to serve food without botching the job is becoming next to impossible. How it's possible to be incapable of performing such simple duties, I do not know. This is the first in what I am SURE will be a series, because I don't see it improving any time soon.
Having done my time in the job trenches at McDonalds (where I met my fabulous, then crew-chief husband, BTW - see, there ARE good things under the Golden Arches), I know this one thing to be true of the fast food industry: It's NOT THAT HARD to get it right. It's just not. Read the order, fill the order, move your ass. Those are the three requirements. That's it.
And yet, Greg and I seem to be cursed in this area, as if our past hard work in the food service industry has been karmically turned around on us and the fast food gods are now shitting on us for kicks. We do not EVER seem to have an entirely pleasant experience encompassing the whole package one desires when dining out.
Today it was Sonic. A rare treat these days, we ate out during the week, and Samantha wanted Sonic, declaring "It's the BEST place to go eat." So we went. We placed our order, spoken to a girl who interrupted me approximately 412 times. Two plain cheeseburger kids' meals, one combo with fries, one salad, one dessert - that was our order. She read it back, and said our food would be out "shortly". We paid using the automatic debit card reader.
And we waited.
And we waited.
Two cars who arrived after us, plus countless drive-thru customers, came and went.
And still we waited.
Finally, as I was putting on my mad face and getting ready to make Greg push the button again, the LCD screen flashed "your food is being delivered". And several minutes later, out it came. Three bags, one salad, five cups. Looked OK. They apologized for the wait, we accepted, and came on home.
But the fun's just beginning. We get home and settle in at the table to enjoy our long-awaited meal together.
Greg took his cheeseburger out of his bag, and reached for his fr...wait...what the....
Do YOU see any fries?
No fries. And the kids ordered tots, which Greg does not care for, so no spuds for Greg. That's strike 2 (strike 1 was us waiting 19 weeks for it to begin with).
So Greg gets the kids' cheeseburgers out, halves them as is our method of serving to the kids, and notices that, uh...hmmmm...these aren't .....
Do these cheeseburgers look plain to YOU? Strike 3.
Sigh. Now we're just irritated, verging on pissed off. To top it off, THIS is the kind of lettuce that they saw fit to put in my salad - how about Strike Four:
Slimy and/or actually rotting? No. But good and "rusty", a quality which may not affect the taste, but it speaks to the age, and air exposure time this lettuce has seen. Grosses me out. Oh, and the chicken (already gone in this pic) was nice and grissly on three sides. Mmmm. Grissle.
I have given up on calling and complaining by now. The idiot managers who answer the phone aren't any smarter than the jackasses they manage, NOR do they care any more than said jackasses. Mostly we are just reminded by these experiences of why we generally eat at HOME.
So Sonic Drive-Inn at 72nd and Military, you sucked ASS today. That it took you THAT long to then SCREW up our food ANYWAY is mind-boggling. Thanks for nothing.
Having done my time in the job trenches at McDonalds (where I met my fabulous, then crew-chief husband, BTW - see, there ARE good things under the Golden Arches), I know this one thing to be true of the fast food industry: It's NOT THAT HARD to get it right. It's just not. Read the order, fill the order, move your ass. Those are the three requirements. That's it.
And yet, Greg and I seem to be cursed in this area, as if our past hard work in the food service industry has been karmically turned around on us and the fast food gods are now shitting on us for kicks. We do not EVER seem to have an entirely pleasant experience encompassing the whole package one desires when dining out.
Today it was Sonic. A rare treat these days, we ate out during the week, and Samantha wanted Sonic, declaring "It's the BEST place to go eat." So we went. We placed our order, spoken to a girl who interrupted me approximately 412 times. Two plain cheeseburger kids' meals, one combo with fries, one salad, one dessert - that was our order. She read it back, and said our food would be out "shortly". We paid using the automatic debit card reader.
And we waited.
And we waited.
Two cars who arrived after us, plus countless drive-thru customers, came and went.
And still we waited.
Finally, as I was putting on my mad face and getting ready to make Greg push the button again, the LCD screen flashed "your food is being delivered". And several minutes later, out it came. Three bags, one salad, five cups. Looked OK. They apologized for the wait, we accepted, and came on home.
But the fun's just beginning. We get home and settle in at the table to enjoy our long-awaited meal together.
Greg took his cheeseburger out of his bag, and reached for his fr...wait...what the....
Do YOU see any fries?
No fries. And the kids ordered tots, which Greg does not care for, so no spuds for Greg. That's strike 2 (strike 1 was us waiting 19 weeks for it to begin with).
So Greg gets the kids' cheeseburgers out, halves them as is our method of serving to the kids, and notices that, uh...hmmmm...these aren't .....
Do these cheeseburgers look plain to YOU? Strike 3.
Sigh. Now we're just irritated, verging on pissed off. To top it off, THIS is the kind of lettuce that they saw fit to put in my salad - how about Strike Four:
Slimy and/or actually rotting? No. But good and "rusty", a quality which may not affect the taste, but it speaks to the age, and air exposure time this lettuce has seen. Grosses me out. Oh, and the chicken (already gone in this pic) was nice and grissly on three sides. Mmmm. Grissle.
I have given up on calling and complaining by now. The idiot managers who answer the phone aren't any smarter than the jackasses they manage, NOR do they care any more than said jackasses. Mostly we are just reminded by these experiences of why we generally eat at HOME.
So Sonic Drive-Inn at 72nd and Military, you sucked ASS today. That it took you THAT long to then SCREW up our food ANYWAY is mind-boggling. Thanks for nothing.
Circle A Ranch: Shout Out To My Old Camping Buddies
So I wanted to get this out there. I'll blog more about it later, and this may mean almost nothing to some of my readers, but some of you know that as a teenager I spent five incredible summers at a place called Circle A Ranch in Rockford, MI. I don't have time to explain it all right now, but you can check out their website here:
Seriously the coolest place ever. Changed my life, and meant the world to me.
NOW they have a website built and up and running for us alums. It's just beginning, and I think it's so great, and would love to help it grow!!! It was designed and is run by the director's (now grown) kids, Melody and Steven. They were just wee things when I was there!
I am hoping that anyone searching for any of us (and I KNOW we are out there...) will find this BLOG and know where to go if you're a former or even current "Circle A-er". I will be blogging more on Circle A shortly, but in the mean time, if you read this, and you went there and are looking for more of us, get over to HERE:
Visit DLXNation
And for pete's sake if you are in touch with other former campers, let them know, too! I have found a couple of people on myspace who were campers, but I haven't had the nerve to contact them, but I may now! Thanks!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Sally Field Can Kiss My Butt
I watched Steel Magnolias last night. Ugh. I haven't cried that much in months. No one should be able to strike such deep chords in my heart with a movie, so Sally*, bend over and smooch it.
Because now that I'm getting old, that kind of shit really screws me up in the head. Everything like that I see gets internalized, personalized, and rips my guts out. I watch stuff like that, and then I get to picture not Shelby, but a grown-up brilliant, stunning, funny, witty Samantha laying there, dying as I hold her hand, and watch her take her last breath, knowing that her baby will "never know what his mother went through for him".
OR I picture MY Jackson (yeah, them having the same name wasn't a twist of the knife), a strapping grown man, who has to sign papers that say "Yes, please let my wife die so I have to raise my child by myself and put up with my MIL thinking I can't do it on my own", or whatever those sick DNR forms say.
Either way, the pain is almost incomprehensible to me, and I fail to understand how anyone endures burying their child and then continues to live with any measure of joy. Which again makes me think of William, and weep for his mommy and daddy and his sister, who have lived M'Lynn's and Drum's nightmare in full-blown reality, and then I weep for my own weakness at not having dealt with the movie version as well as they have dealt with the real one, for cripe's sake.
Morbid, weird, sick, right? Not to mention "for fuck's sake it's just a movie, Cathy". Greg thinks I'm nuts that I even think about this stuff at all. I know, but it happens. I am the queen of the worst-case scenario. And for whatever reason, the bad things in my life that happen to me always seem to be the things I never considered could happen. So if I think about it, it'll never happen, right? God, I hope so.
I was planning to watch Legends of the Fall after that, but dang, I'd have probably shot myself when THAT was over, so I watched Jeff Dunham instead. Nothing like a little Walter and Peanut to cheer you up on a Saturday night. This free Netflix viewer is the shit. Except when I watch Steel Magnolias and get screwed up in the head for the night, and then have to stay up till 1:00 watching a man play with dolls just to get calmed down enough to sleep.
*Sally, if you're reading, I don't really want you to kiss my butt. I think you are a super-talented actress, and pretty hot for someone my mom's age. Hell, you're hot for someone MY age, and your talent has moved me to my core in so many films. The whole "kiss my butt" thing was just a catchy title. Nothin' but love, ma'am...
Because now that I'm getting old, that kind of shit really screws me up in the head. Everything like that I see gets internalized, personalized, and rips my guts out. I watch stuff like that, and then I get to picture not Shelby, but a grown-up brilliant, stunning, funny, witty Samantha laying there, dying as I hold her hand, and watch her take her last breath, knowing that her baby will "never know what his mother went through for him".
OR I picture MY Jackson (yeah, them having the same name wasn't a twist of the knife), a strapping grown man, who has to sign papers that say "Yes, please let my wife die so I have to raise my child by myself and put up with my MIL thinking I can't do it on my own", or whatever those sick DNR forms say.
Either way, the pain is almost incomprehensible to me, and I fail to understand how anyone endures burying their child and then continues to live with any measure of joy. Which again makes me think of William, and weep for his mommy and daddy and his sister, who have lived M'Lynn's and Drum's nightmare in full-blown reality, and then I weep for my own weakness at not having dealt with the movie version as well as they have dealt with the real one, for cripe's sake.
Morbid, weird, sick, right? Not to mention "for fuck's sake it's just a movie, Cathy". Greg thinks I'm nuts that I even think about this stuff at all. I know, but it happens. I am the queen of the worst-case scenario. And for whatever reason, the bad things in my life that happen to me always seem to be the things I never considered could happen. So if I think about it, it'll never happen, right? God, I hope so.
I was planning to watch Legends of the Fall after that, but dang, I'd have probably shot myself when THAT was over, so I watched Jeff Dunham instead. Nothing like a little Walter and Peanut to cheer you up on a Saturday night. This free Netflix viewer is the shit. Except when I watch Steel Magnolias and get screwed up in the head for the night, and then have to stay up till 1:00 watching a man play with dolls just to get calmed down enough to sleep.
*Sally, if you're reading, I don't really want you to kiss my butt. I think you are a super-talented actress, and pretty hot for someone my mom's age. Hell, you're hot for someone MY age, and your talent has moved me to my core in so many films. The whole "kiss my butt" thing was just a catchy title. Nothin' but love, ma'am...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
