Out With The Froo Froo And In With The New New

I have always considered myself an old soul.  From my earliest memories I have been fascinated with all things old.  As a child, while others were reading the latest fictional novel containing current, modern day subject matter, I was holed up in my room, laying across my waterbed devouring the Little House On The Prairie series, imagining what it must be like to be half-pint or Ma living out on the prairie like that.  I also wondered if Pa was half as hot as Michael Landon was on the television series?  If so, then I was definitely Ma.

As the years passed, my love for old things progressed and I became downright obsessed!!  My late husband would get so frustrated with me as I brought home old photographs of people we didn't know from Adam, framed them, and displayed them all around the house.  I cannot tell you how many times I have been asked, "Oh, are these your ancestors?"  Only to giggle and respond, "No, I don't know WHO they are!"  Once I even had a friend tell me that the lady in one particular photo looked just like me!  Lol, perhaps that is why I was drawn to that photograph, perhaps she was some long lost relative who died years ago and haunted my subconscious!!  Impossible of course, but it is great fodder for this blog.

Old books, old shoes, old clothes, old tea cups, platters and glassware of all sorts cluttered every nook and cranny of our home.  And who cared about the latest in music and movies?  Give me the old classics any day of the week such as Gone With The Wind and Meet Me In St. Louis to name a few.  And Frank Sinatra, not Tim McGraw, and Doris Day not Beyonce!  The Big Band era songs echoed thru our home, no Christian Rock Bands!  I was at one time so obsessed with English Tea Houses that I transformed our living room and dining room into a regular Tea Room complete with small round table set with delicate dinnerware and antique tea cups and teapots.  I tried my hand at lemon curd, devonshire cream and scones in my very own kitchen as classical music reverberated around me.  I was convinced that I was born to live in a different era.  If there was such thing as reincarnation then I surely hailed from the 1930's or 40's (my favorite era)!

Even when I began to date after the death of Tim I was scouting around for an old guy!  Not like walker, adult diaper old, but rather, slightly seasoned.  You know, the kind of man that has made his fortune and married off all of his children?  A man who totally has the time to fan me with big palm fronds on some tropical island while feeding me grapes and refilling my virgin Pina Colada on a regular basis. THAT"S what I'm talkin' bout!  I had visions of a man with salt and pepper hair..........driving a Jaguar.  Instead, the Lord transformed me into a cougar and gave me a man four years my junior with the prettiest green eyes you have ever seen who drove a Honda!!  Oh well, I guess the Lord knows just what we need!  And I LOVE my juvenile husband and being a cougar aint so bad after all................TO BE CONTINUED

My Grandkids Are Cuter Than Yours

It's true, I have finally entered into the wacky, weirdness of Grandmotherhood!  All reason and logic have gone right down the drain with the birth of Charlotte and Harlow!!  My I-phone is full of their photographs of which I will bore to tears unsuspecting people given the slightest provocation!  My purse is no longer a means by which to carry important articles such as money, identification and Aqua Net, it now, however, houses small toys and gummi fruit smiles.

My daughter Kendra expressed concern that her baby would be ugly.  I assured her that if she were, we wouldn't know it, and I used she and her brother Zack as examples.  For instance, Zack looked like E.T. on a bad day at his birth, and she, Kendra, well, she resembled a hobbit, sprouting patches of hair of differing lengths.  And see?  We thought they were beautiful!  Haley however was by far my prettiest baby, much to her siblings chagrin.  I assured Kendra that she and her brother developed and matured into absolutely gorgeous toddlers and eventually, adults.  If her child was indeed born ugly, then we would all be blissfully unaware of the fact.  To us, her baby would be divinely perfect.

And she was!!  I was there you know.  The last time I viewed Kendra from that position I was powdering her behind, and now, here I was holding one of her legs as her husband, Kris, held the other as we cheered her on and shouted "push! push!"  As my adorable grand daughter entered this world, I was sure that there was no prettier creature on earth, and of course, she looked just like me, when in reality she is an exact replica of her father.  But hey, I'm the grandma!  I'm entitled to be slightly delusional.

The only other child on the planet who is equally as lovely would, of course, be my other grand daughter Charlotte (aka, Peanut)!!  And she, I am most positive, is the most advanced, intelligent two year old ever!  The fact that she has now learned to say "Mimi" and "P-Pa" proves that she is an expert orator.  A few weeks ago she decided to draw all over her uncles flat screen with a pencil.  And NO, she was not being destructive.......she is an artist, simply expressing herself through her drawings.  Any unacceptable behavior by   my little "peanut" can easily be explained away and attributed to her genius.

Tis true, and disgusting, I am a doting grandmother!  They are perfect and can do no wrong.  Their boogers are beautiful and there slobber is sweet.  There poop don't stink and I am no longer an advocate for corporal punishment.  They are both gifted and deserve the finest of everything..........and yes, I am sorry but they are cuter than yours.  And THAT is a fact I will fight you over.

Valentines Day Is For Old People

There was a time when Valentine's Day was really exciting.  You know, when I had more hair on my head than on my chin, and my boobs were where the good Lord intended, and not hovering somewhere around my navel.  I would arise early to carefully curl my solid red locks to perfection, apply my Dr. Pepper lip gloss, my gunnie sack dress and my cork wedgie shoes and wait........wait for the flowers, balloons and heart shaped box of chocolates to arrive.  Once it had arrived, I would proudly stand in front of the fireplace hearth as my mother snapped polaroids of me and my booty, well not MY booty of course, but my Valentine's Day booty!  Once the polaroids had dried and reached their intended color I would race to my room and call the sendee of the Valentines and proclaim my undying love for the lucky fella.  

As time passed, Valentine's Day became less and less exciting.  It became just another day to spend much needed money on overpriced cards, and the candy??  Who needed it?  After three kids my ever expanding waistline certainly didn't need it, and roses were way too expensive for our limited budget and they just wilted and died and ended up in the trash.  My idea of a proper Valentine's Day gift was more along the lines of a new Dooney and Bourke purse or a gift card to a day spa, but who can afford that?  So, Valentine's Day went unrecognized for the most part.  I secretly hated my coworkers and ladies at church who would brag about their WONDERFUL Valentine's Day experiences, describing their gifts of Victoria Secret lingerie, chocolate dipped strawberries, fancy dinners and sparkling cider.  All while I wondered how we were going to afford to pay for braces and Kendra's latest traffic ticket!!  For me, Valentine's Day totally sucked!!

As time went on and my children became teenagers, I found myself in the Valentine's aisle at Wal Mart with my son Zack searching for that perfect stuffed animal and box of chocolates for his latest girlfriend.  And I watched as Kendra waited impatiently for her Valentine's Day goodies to arrive, and I, as my own mother did, forced her to pose as I snapped photos of the digital kind......... death to the polaroid!!  I would pick them up from school on Valentine's Day struggling to get the balloons, oversized teddy bears, cards and candy into the car, anticipating getting home and raiding their Valentine's Day take.  I always jacked their hard candy hearts, my personal fave.  Valentine's Day was no longer about me or my hubby, it was all about the kids.

Zack got married, and then Kendra, so now, how Valentine's Day played out in their lives was all on them.   And Haley???  Well she has proclaimed that she is never getting married and will forever be alone, which scares the doo doo out of me, because to me, that is interpreted, forever at home!!

So, as this Valentine's Day approached and I find myself a two-time Grandma, I pondered what Valentine's Day would mean for me.  I had to listen to Haley bemoan the fact that she is alone and that she and her other unfortunate friends were going to skype their evening away, discussing their joint aloneness and be miserable in general.  I stood in front of the mirror and forlornly examined the large amount of gray in my once lustrous locks and wondered why I look six months pregnant when my ovaries have long since died and given up the ghost.  And what in the world has happened to my rear end??  It's hanging dangerously low, and I always wanted dimples on my cheeks, just not THOSE cheeks and not in the dozens!!!  At forty five years of age, this lady is showing signs of wear and tear........Valentine's Day for me was sure to be totally blah und unsexy.

I stumbled out of bed on Valentine's Day with one thought racing through my foggy brain, coffee, coffee, coffee!!  I walked down the steps toward the kitchen and there, at the foot of the steps waiting for me with open arms was my sweet husband of less than a year.  He engulfed me in a hug the kind that only he can give and suddenly, coffee was no longer on the brain.  As he led me into the kitchen, there, in a lovely vase stood a dozen red roses, a card addressed to me rested at the base of the vase.  Paul told me to relax as he poured me a cup of coffee, just the way I like it.  He instructed me to have the table set for that evening's meal with candles.  He then slipped upstairs and when he returned he held something behind his back.  As he strode to the refrigerator and opened the door he revealed a bottle of sparkling cider.  My knees went weak and my heart did aerobics as he winked at me and sensuously kissed the bottle before placing it in the refrigerator.  And then with one last kiss, and leaving me utterly breathless, my man was off to work.

That night we held hands as we ate our spaghetti dinner that he himself had cooked, the candlelight flickering off of our wine glasses filled with sparkling cider.  Haley was there, yammering about her lack of a valentine but my hubby and I only had eyes for each other.  It was a PERFECT Valentine's Day and I was in bed by 9:00!!  So yes, Valentine's Day IS for old people too!!  Wink, wink.

Embracing My Oldness

As my forty fifth birthday approaches I realize that I am officially old.  Oh yeah, the old gray mare she aint what she used to be.  Nope, she's sway backed, knock kneed, long in the tooth and in dire need of a new pair of shoes.  If you were raised around horses you were most likely warned to not venture too close to a horses backside for fear of being kicked..........well, I would advise you not to venture too close to mine either, and for a whole different set of possible circumstances.

My body is officially breaking down!  I am WAY past my child bearing years.  That's right.  My uteris has shriveled to the size of a deflated balloon and my ovaries look like two forlorn, dried up raisins.  Every once in a while my hubby and I will look at each other and say, "We're fixed!  We can't have babies!  Yay!"  At that point we high five each other and celebrate.  NO MORE BABIES!  Been there, done that...............and didn't entirely enjoy it.  No sirree, I love it that I am old! I love it that I find men in plaid golf shorts, black sandals and white knee sock attractive, and that I enjoy going fifty in the fast lane, and that my children are no longer children anymore!  I want them to succeed in life and make a boatload of money so that they can keep me in depends and dentures!!  Oh yes, Im gonna live the high life while I'm old!

All except for the hot flashes of course.  At odd  times I will commence ripping off every stitch of clothing on my body, run around the house opening up all the windows, flapping my arms wildly in an attempt to generate some air.  I usually end up in my bedroom, standing in front of a fan and guzzling iced tea.  Once the hot flash passes I find myself shivering, stepping into a hot shower, only to don my warm fuzzy jammies and wait for it to happen all over again.  This is called MENOPAUSE!

Menopause.  What a word.  It is something that women everywhere fear daily.  I however, embrace it.  It has it's downsides though.  I mean, is it normal for me to actually WANT to wear moo moos and Birkenstocks with white socks?  Or to imagine my family stranded on a desert island while I run naked on the beach, the wind gently blowing my hair with a virgin strawberry daiquiri in my hand?  Or that I envision spiking their drinks with a concoction of Benadryl and ground up Tylenol P.M. to render them helpless while I go to the mall?  Or that I sometimes dream of seeing their faces on milk cartons with a message that reads "Have you seen me?" and awake with a smile on my face?  Oh good Lord that is awful!!  But, I blame the menopause, and this too shall pass.

The effects to my body however shall not pass.  My skin looks like something akin to mini blinds, only not nearly as firm.  And I have no idea what my toes look like.........I can't SEE them.  It stinks to look five months pregnant, when in reality, you are only carrying an In-N-Out double double with cheese, animal fries and a chocolate shake.  I mean, I can just LOOK at a french fry and grow a dress size!  What is up with that?  And speaking of my toes, the last time I saw them, I lifted my flab six inches up, and a hard four inches to the right and gasped at what I saw.  My toenails were turning a lovely shade of YELLOW!!  What is happening?  Me, the one who enjoys a lovely french pedicure from time to time has yellow toenails!  God forbid!  And this means that I cannot possibly do a french anymore!  Who wants to sport yellow toenails with a white stripe?  This calls for a nice, solid shade of pearl white on the tootsies.  My Pastor would fall out in an apoplectic fit if he knew I wanted to paint my toenails white!  But Pastor Keyes, It's for the good of the innocent onlookers.  Anyone who sees my toenails will surely want to gauge out their eyes with sticks!!  It is my civic duty to spare them.  And my hair!!  Oh, don't EVEN go there!  My hair, my best feature is turning funny colors and turning loose too...........oh my.

Oh well, what can one do about getting old?  Not a thing, so you may as well enjoy it.  I look forward to the day that my hubby and I travel around in a motor home, stopping at Wal Mart along the way, eating at buffets and playing bingo in local High School gyms.  And me, yeah you'll find me cruising down the highway in my easy chair in the back of the motor home, most likely naked, sipping on ensure, snacking on some apple sauce............but you can bet your boots I will have the most lovely blue hair and sparkly white toenails you have ever seen.