Saturday, November 03, 2007

As Time Goes By

A fellow blogger (who is very funny, by the way - check her out) mentioned in passing that she is 35 years old. And it got me to thinking, what wouldn't I give to be 35 again? Not any younger, mind you, because 34 was the Year of the Head Lice around this house, and there is no way I could repeat that. But 35? If I were 35 right now, I could start yoga and then, when I would be 44 again, I wouldn't be pulling my back out lifting a jack-o-lantern off the porch and maybe my wrists wouldn't hurt when I try to brush my hair, and perhaps I would be so limber that I never would have done whatever it is I did to my hip a couple of weeks ago that is making my leg be all weird and numb for most of the day.

Also, my kids would all be young enough to worship the ground I walk on.

In short, I am rapidly falling apart here, and there doesn't seem to be anything (aside from time travel) that I can do about it. I do yoga now, and I walk in the mornings, and I give birth regularly; but things just aren't working the way they used to. Youth is wasted on the young, I'm afraid.

The entire house smells like burned pumpkin. Don't ask.

I am hating the New Yorker right now. They never pick my entry for their cartoon caption contest. Sometimes I can't even understand the entries that they do pick. And I'm originally from the New York City area, so it's not as if I'm some rube from the Midwest who doesn't get sophisticated East Coast humor. Dammit, I want to win. It's the only way I'm going to get something decent to hang on my walls that doesn't cost a mint.

[Whoops, looks like I insulted every Midwestern reader I have (all 3) - but remember, just because there are some rubes in the Midwest doesn't mean that everyone from the Midwest is a rube. (The converse of a true statement is not necessarily true - I know that because I've been helping my teenagers with their geometry this year.) So assume that I am talking about someone else. Someone not intelligent enough to enjoy the oh, so sophisticated humor of this blog, for example. Thanks.]

Where was I? Oh, yes - my walls. Larry has been having a stressful time at work lately, so I figured it was time to pile on and let him know that we need him to paint our living room and dining room in time for the New Year's party I'm planning to have. It's not a New Year's Eve party, because I can't stay up late enough. I'd have to go upstairs to bed while everyone else was still here and ask people to make sure to turn out the lights and lock the door when they're done. And I don't want to do that. So I thought an Open House sort of gathering on New Year's Day for the entire neighborhood would be a good idea. These things always do seem like good ideas, until, say, the night before when you are up late trying to hang the curtain rods and curtains that have been lying behind the couch ever since you moved in 6 months ago. And the paint on the walls is still wet. So maybe I should rethink this. But I don't want to. I'm stubborn that way.

Wow, it's quiet here - everyone fell asleep before me. That's surprising, considering I've been letting the kids sleep late this week, in preparation for turning the clocks back this weekend (yes! an extra hour of sleep!). Twice a year I plot and plan to make the transition go smoothly, and it never works. One particularly memorable spring, we had a baby a week after we switched to Daylight Savings Time, and nothing got back to normal (schedule-wise) for 6 whole months - just in time to switch the clocks again. Ouch.


  1. I always figure parties are nature's way of making me really clean the house. (It's clean to look at but not too closely or you will see the spider webs in the corners.) How considerate of you to heap more things to do on your husband. I know it's due to your kindness and that you are trying to keep his mind off of what's stressing him at work. Enjoy your extra sleep!

  2. The New Yorker ain't what it used to be. Have you ever seen the Seinfeld episode where Elaine spends a good portion of the show trying to get someone to explain what a NY caption means. Keep trying. Funny blog.

  3. I live in the Midwest, but I'm not originally FROM the Midwest, so I can agree that most Midwesterners are rubes.

    Unless you live in the Midwest and know me and are reading this. I don't mean you.

    So, uh, see, you and I operate a lot alike. I'm 40 and do yoga.

    However, my house doesn't smell like burned pumpkin.

  4. Aw, thanks for the link! You are pretty durn funny yourself. Even if you are old. Very old. Nearing death.

    (Don't hurt me.)

  5. Jocelyn, it's never too late to start (burning pumpkin, I mean).
    Sue, the way I'm limping around, I don't think I could hurt anybody.

  6. I am the same way. Parties always SEEM like a good idea until they get here, LOL. Add on top of it that I am a horrible hostess - theres the cups/plates/food/drink help yourself and mingle, dont talk to me, LOL - just makes it worse. The only GOOD thing about a party is that the day before is the only time my house is in perfect condition. My nerves by that time aren't - yelling at the kids to don't walk, move, breathe, eat etc. etc. until after the party makes for an unhappy mom/kids, LOL.

    about being old - I am 31 (and a half - can't ever forget that half) and while I, like you, give birth on a regualr basis, everything else is falling apart. I think it has something to do with giving birth - with every child you give birth to, something else, sometimes two things, will go wrong.

  7. I only have three kids now, OH no more falls apart!! *whimpering* I thought you were done with scary halloween posts!! I must start yoga NOW!! I'll pass on the burnt pumpkin, allergic!!

  8. Sheesh. I'm totally offended. Not really. Guess I'm a rube...

    I'm going to start yoga now. Will that help my memory at all?

  9. Let's see I am from the Midwest and still live there (one of the 3 but I totally get your humor... so I am not one of the rubes! YEA!!

    Parties are the only time I am forced to actually clean my house and not just pretend to clean.

  10. Rube: an unsophisticated person from a rural area; hick. I have to admit, I had to google the word...hadn't heard of it, I think that automatically makes me one! I am one of the 3 from the Midwest ;), by the way. I am pretty sure I qualify as a "hick" cause I love going back home and just relaxing and enjoying those fellow "hicks" I grew up with. I am originally from a rural area but I have lived now just over half of my life in the suburbs, so does that mean that I'm starting to climb out of the hick status? This is a tough one because I so totally get your sophisticated sense of humor! I think I must just be a "ru"...only half a "rube". On the rube side: 1. from the Midwest, 2. a self-proclaimed "hick", and 3. half of my life in a rural area. One the non-rube side: 1. so get your sophisticated sense of humor..and actually laugh at it! 2. half of my life in the suburbs, competing with the Joneses (actually just over half by almost a year), and 3. ...?... oops! I guess it's 3 points to 2; more "rube" than not. I think I will call myself a "rub"!! Fun post and blog, as usual!!!