Monday, March 27, 2006

A View Of Age Creeping Up On Me, Part 1

I had to run out for lunch this afternoon. While I was out running errands, I saw that Thomas Dolby is coming to my fair city in May.

Thomas "Hyperactive" Dolby. Thomas "I Scare Myself" Dolby. Thomas freakin' "She Blinded Me With Science" Dolby.

I HAVE to see this show, especially since I read about how great the show was on the west coast in "The K Chronicles" a really cool blog and comic strip I dig. (You'll dig it, too. Read him. Laugh with him. Share him.)

Anyway, as I was doing my happy dance (as much as I could behind the wheel, anyway) at the idea of seeing Dolby in concert, I remembered I bought my first Dolby song back in 1983.

1983. When I was a sophomore in high school.

My ass is getting old. I'll be 39 this summer, one step away from the Big 4-oh. It's not that old - they say 40 is the new 20 - but I still get that "Sally Albright" reaction to the milestone from time to time. Especially when other little reminders pop up. You know the ones:

1) Forgetfulness. My company changed door codes this morning. Every time I've walked up to a door to enter the code, I could hear a voice in my head saying, "Don't forget the code changed. Put in the new code." What do I do? Put in the old code, turn the handle, swear under my breath silently ("How the f--- could you forget so fast?"), put in the new code and continue with my day. So far, I've done this four times. Don't even get me started on my daily leave the house and go back because I forgot my keys, my lunch, my head on my shoulders, etc.

2) My own personal summers. The routine is always the same: A sudden flash of searing heat. Break out into a sweat. Curse ("Why is it so effin' hot in here?!"). Take off jacket/unbutton shirt/pull at sweater in frantic attempt to whip up some coolness. Realize that the room is cold enough to freeze time 15-20 minutes later. Put on jacket/button shirt/pull sweater around neck in frantic attempt to whip up some heat. Find comfortable spot for about an hour. Repeat. My mom laughed when she told me about my family's tendency to start early stages of menopause early. ("Welcome to old age, baby," followed by a cackle that was 20% mocking and 80% I understand what you're going through.)

3) A realization that time is moving faster than you. Every once in a while, I'll hear a song on the radio, see a rerun for a show I haven't seen in a while, recognize a clothing or hair style that I wore back in high school that someone will say is old. "No it's not," I'll counter, "I wore that in high school..." My sister will chime in every time, "Yeah. Back in 1985," instantly turning me into Miss Jane Pittman. (MJP was made in 1974. When I was seven. So not helping.)

4) A realization that the worst is behind me. I married my high school sweetheart back in 1991. We divorced in 1995. The divorce was finalized in 1996. I've been divorce 10 years - more than twice as long as I was married. This is an example of how getting older truly means getting better. More on my marriage and divorce in later posts, by the way.

Two powerful reminders I've received recently are very good stories. Both are bittersweet, and both have endings with a bit of a twist. Come back later this evening to read them both.

More to come later.


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