A Disenchanted Evening

So! Those of you who follow this blog's Facebook page already know that the stomach virus fairy visited our house yesterday. Rachel was the lucky chosen one (so far) who got to throw up repeatedly and lie on the bathroom floor wailing, "Why me?" Caring, maternal person that I am, I took advantage of what I saw as a teachable moment to say, "This is what happens if you drink too much at college, you know."

Really, that was the first thing that popped into my mind.  What is wrong with me?

Delivered by an angel of mercy

To keep Rachel company, I came down with some ache-y, flu-y thing that same day. Now, I am not a pleasant person to be around when ill. I get depressed and irritable (a situation not helped in the least by having to watch someone barf several times). I also get weepy.  So when a neighbor texted me from Target and asked if I needed anything, followed by my yoga teacher volunteering to work the desk at the yoga center for me on Saturday morning, I became positively maudlin, wailing to anyone who would listen that I didn't deserve friends like that.

Fortunately for Larry, he was at work all day and didn't have to listen to me.

So today both Rachel and I were in recovery mode (read, I was still irritable and she was munching on pretzels). But I felt well enough by early evening to insist that Larry and I go out to see Bridge of Spies, since it seemed to be one of the few movies both of us would enjoy.

You know, Cold War for him, Tom Hanks for me?

So there we were, happily watching a movie. It was a scene near the beginning, where Tom Hanks (a lawyer) is talking to this really old guy who owned the law firm.  REALLY OLD. And Larry leaned over and whispered in my ear, "That's Alan Alda."

Folks, I think Alan Alda, and what I see is Hawkeye from M*A*S*H.  I mean, I did see him in a movie during the 90s (Manhattan Murder Mystery); but he still resembled Hawkeye, albeit a little older and more distinguished-looking. So, it's not as though I didn't know the guy was aging a bit.

There. On the far right. The old man.

But, yeah, the 90s were 20 years ago now.  I just did the math.

I came home and messaged my best friend from high school - you know, the one who is supposed to know that neither of us will ever grow old? - and told her what had happened.  I mean, if Alan Alda can't stay young, what hope is there for either of us? Her reply was, essentially, "Um, what did you expect?" To which I say, thanks, friend of my youth. THANKS A LOT.




[Bridge of Spies image: Touchstone Pictures]