Monday, July 25, 2016
Want A Little Cheese With That Whine? No Thank-You. I Would Prefer Narcotics
I have so much to do today that I feel paralyzed. So what have I done?
Gotten up, drunk a bunch of coffee, taken trash to the place where you take the trash, gone to the post office and sent a friend a little birthday card. Also called my neighbor to ask for the dog owner neighbor's phone number but I got her voice mail (I swear to you- I wrote "answer machine" and then realized that she has a cell phone, of course, and no machine is involved and now I think I'll go get my smoothie out of the ice box, okay?) and haven't heard back from her.
I need to do laundry, go to town and run errands, stop by Lily's and deliver presents for the children and, more importantly, kiss the children. I need to clean, or at least mop my kitchen because it's nasty, y'all. It was nasty before I left and the mop fairies didn't stop by while I was gone, it would appear.
As you can see in the picture above, Maurice is completely and blissfully unconcerned with getting anything done whatsoever. Perhaps she is thinking about catching a lizard or a cicada or perhaps she is thinking about getting in another fight with Jack. Who knows? Not me. But whatever she's thinking about, it doesn't seem to be engendering much activity.
Oh wait. She just went in to check out the food bowl.
Yeah. That would be a cat. Last night Jack slept approximately on top of me. I think he missed me. He actually purred.
Oh god. Who wants to hear about my cats? Or my errands? Or anything that a will-be-sixty-two-years-old-in-three-days-woman has to say?
Do you know why I am sitting here writing this? Because I can and because that's what I do and because I'm in despair because my birthday is coming up and although I'm writing about it, I really just want to ignore it and I've been saying I'm sixty-two for months now and so what's the point of making a deal out of it? I don't want to go out to celebrate, I don't want to stay in to celebrate, I don't want to celebrate at all.
I'm sorry. I know I should be all wise-woman-crone-birthday-girl-pink-candles-on-the-cake but fuck that shit, no, I am not.
I feel like I'm over the hill, done, washed up, ugly, old, and as useful as tits on a boar hog as they say around here sometimes. Supposedly they say that. I don't know.
I think about people older than I am who are still living vital, exciting lives and I think, Good for them.
I think about the couple who were our fearless leaders in Cuba and I think about Keith Richards and I think about a friend of mine who is about to go hike the Hight Sierra Trail for a month, and I think about, oh, everybody, and it exhausts me.
What a stupid, boring age. Who thought I'd live this long?
Well. Fuck. I have. You want to know what's depressing? Walking past vintage shops in a hip, cool town to see things hanging in the windows that are not as old as actual clothing you have hanging in your own closet. Also- taking make-up to that cool hipster town and not even unscrewing your mascara once because- who the fuck cares? Also- catching sight of yourself in the mirror and wanting to die. Also? Having to keep your chickens cooped up. Also?
Well. You get the drift. And just in case you think I'm an incredibly shallow human individual- YOU ARE RIGHT- plus the fact that there are so many truly hard and sad things going on around me that I can't even talk about.
All right. I'm going to go get dressed and get to Lily's and go from there.
Make-up will not be involved.
Love (for what it's worth)...Ms. Moon
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Let your mantra be, 'oh, fuck it'. You don't have to celebrate. You don't have to put on mascara. Bleeeeehhhhh, don't worry about it all.ReplyDelete
Having the chickens cooped up is awful though, that dog has to go as they can't guarantee that they can keep it in.
But just let the other stuff go, and do your thing, however unremarkable that thing may be. I love reading about your floors, mopped or otherwise. Truly. *glances at own kitchen floor, looks away quickly*
Jo- You are such a good friend. Thank you. I swear- I'm going to get to that floor today or die trying. Either way- it'll be different.Delete
You are not shallow. And I will celebrate you even iffn you don't want me too. LoveReplyDelete
In some ways, I am SO shallow. I guess we all have shallow sections of the river, though. Maybe. And I am grateful that you celebrate me. I am. And I certainly celebrate you.Delete
Oh no Mary--don't feel old--I have been reading your blog for awhile and you are an inspiration to me. I tell people I am 70 (in a few months) and we have just moved from a city condo to a small rural beach community to be near our daughter and grand children and will be doing the childcare. We now have a big property, a garden and I even want chickens after reading about yours. I also do not care to have a birthday "do" but I try to treasure each day and know you do too.ReplyDelete
Really hope the chicken killing dog is gone from you neighborhood soon.
Hello, Pollylu! Are you new here? Welcome. You're going to do childcare? For how many? Oh Lord. You're a better grandma than me.Delete
I say useless as tits on a boar hog all the time. Works well for a fair number of situations.ReplyDelete
Remember when we summer babies could say "I'm 12 now but I'll be 14 next year" or at least I used to say it. I quit doing that a good while back. I'm 60 now but I'll be 62 next year gives me the willies these days.
I seriously just can't believe I've lived to even see my sixties. It's absolutely mindblowing to me.Delete
Thanks for stopping by!
My big 6-0 is a month from today. Not sure how I feel about it, but I don't think it'll be as bad as my 40th....which I don't even remember. I'm not a drinker (unless it's a good Mojito or my hubby's Bloody Mary) but I got truly snockered the night before my 40th. The way I see it...with age comes wisdom. Or at the very least, the right to say whatever the hell we want. As my hubby says, I'm just glad to be waking up on the right side of the dirt. 😉ReplyDelete
The night I turned 40 was magical. I had no problems turning 40 and I consider that my best decade. It's gone rather downhill from there in some ways. I mean- the grandchildren are wonderful- that is so true. But god. Aging is just so humiliating.Delete
Well, I do like your Maurice stories and pictures. Look at her all stretched out and not giving a shit about anything but herself and her own needs. Norbert is in front of me doing the same thing. Living. Not ever a shit given. Ever.ReplyDelete
I am only 45 and tired of living. Just so tired of all of it. I hope I don't have to live feeling this way until I am 62.
Well, I tell you what- some days I do just feel tired of living. Tired of it all. And then some days contain huge chunks of magic. I guess that's why we keep going- to experience those.Delete
Also? I'm glad you like Maurice stories.
I like this new setup for comments. :-)Delete
Well, hi, Mrs. Moon. I've been stopping by but resting my voice. But I have to comment on the 62-yr-old doom and gloom. I feel it too, but mine is 63 1/2 year old doom and gloom. Yeah, I'd do just about anything to get rid of my cellulite and stretch marks, but would like it to cost less than 50 bucks. I don't mind my silver hair, but what's up with the texture? And why in the hell do I weigh so much when I eat practically nothing, do all kinds of chores, walk, and go to yoga and t'ai chi chih? We can put a man on the moon, but why are my jeans so tight? Yeah, I feel your pain. But go go go and kiss kiss kiss those beautiful babies. And Happy Birthday. You are beautiful in so many ways.ReplyDelete
Hey- the weight thing? Okay, frankly I know why I weigh so much. There's no big mystery to it. I eat too much and of many of the wrong foods. Or, actually, food-like substances. I'm not ignorant. I'm just stupid.Delete
I kissed the babies. They said they missed me. The ones that can talk, anyway. Thanks for speaking here today. I really appreciate that, Denise.
My theory is you can't be shallow if you think you are. I mean, it took a least some insight to decide that about yourself.ReplyDelete
And some of us here - ahem, naming no names - will be firmly on the other side of 65 on our next birthday in September. By two years. Sigh.
So- does it get any easier? Does the knowledge that you're still here become less shocking?Delete
Well, I've brushed by the other possibility in past years, so I'm learning to be grateful for what I've got.Delete
I am somewhat the same, I now like to hide on my birthday because I have friends who insist on coming round to sing a birthday song - all five verses - while I stand there and grin in agony.ReplyDelete
It's not the actual age, I think. It's trying to square the person we are with that age that is the problem.
But still, Mary, have a wonderful birthday, celebrate the beauty of your life now and all the love in it.
Oh, Sabine. I know! I'm just a butt about my birthday. I think I always have been. One of my earliest memories is about being miserable at my birthday party. I might have been turning four or five. So...this is nothing new.Delete
Maybe celebrating myself was shamed out of me at some point. I don't know. Age four or five perhaps?
And yes- it's not the actual age. It's exactly as you say- trying to square the person I am with the number.
I want to hear about your cats. And your chickens and your family. And all of it.ReplyDelete
Oh my, so much of what you write speaks straight to me. I can't even look in the mirror lately, unless the light is soft and I've had some wine. Except for the chickens, I feel like we are tuned in to the same wavelength. I have a garden full of woes this summer too, so I've been going weekly to one of several farm stands nearby. I'm starting to get opinionated about who has the better corn or beans. Fresh produce in my summer meals is one of things lately that makes me happy and I've been struggling to find the happy. I feel ancient, ossified and tired. I must be an early achiever, I'm six years behind you and feel like we are neck and neck.ReplyDelete
Thanks for being an light and a voice out there, it's a comfort to stop by and visit and hear about your day, including the cat and the chores :) I have focused on doing all the laundry this week and cleaning out the closets and dressers and donating carloads, and that has made me very happy.
Also, the new comments format is lovely.
I'm contrary about birthdays and actually love them. I hated my 40s and am loving my 50s. You rock the 60s, are beautiful and funny and so talented. Honestly.ReplyDelete
Well to quote Cher on being old. It Sucks. It is certainly not for sissies. I have health issues but did when young. Worse when combined with old. Was 64 last week. Ignored whole thing. Found turning 30 traumatic and 56 wrong side of on way to 60. Most others nowt to write home about, 40 though l am with you on. Best party l ever went to!. Agree so about being old decrepit fat etc. Sucks as they say your side of pond. But l strive to be positive Fail mostly but l strive xReplyDelete