Friday, October 20, 2023

Get Off My Lawn

Turning 50 was awesome.  There was a big party with lots of friends and despite said “friends’” effort, I managed to keep from being thrown into my own pool.

But turning 58?  Yeah … that one hit a different.

And not in a good way.

At 58, there’s probably more gray hair under those highlights than not.  The wrinkles are prevalent. And my hands look like that of an old person.

I’m officially in my “late 50’s” and 60 is just around the corner. 

No. Way.


Time seems to be moving rapidly.  I don’t know where the days go.  Or the weeks.  Or even the months.  Yes, that’s common when you retire, I know. But this. This is … different. Time seems to be FLYING.

I’m afraid I’m turning into one of “those” old people.  The kind that have lost touch with the younger generation.  The kind who uses “old” phrases. 

I won’t soon forget when a friend, who’s younger and much more hip than me, asked “Did you just use the word ‘britches’?”  Well yes.  Yes, I did.  And the sad thing is, I didn’t see anything wrong with it.

I’m still using phrases like “I know, right?”.  A phrase that probably went out in the 90’s.  More than 20 years ago!

No. Way.

And don’t even get me started on the vernacular used by today’s young adults. I’m totally lost.

  • “Shipping” (are we suggesting two people go on a cruise?)
  • “Someone’s ‘Agency’” (no clue. Bueller? Bueller?)
  • “Spilling tea” (okay – I know what this means. But only because someone explained it to me)
  • “Slay” (hey Gen X, we used that term too back in the day!)
  • “Situationship” (it’s complicated. Why not just say that?)
  • A “bop” (I literally just looked up the top phrases used by Gen X’ers in 2023 and have already forgotten what this means)
  • Being “rizz” (apparently, this describes Pete Davidson because he must have charisma. What’s wrong with just saying “charisma”?)

Yeah, I was once hip too.  I think.

I’m also becoming (or maybe I’ve just always been – don’t answer that – it’s a rhetorical statement) that cranky old person.

You want to talk pet peeves?  Like thingamabobs, I’ve got 20!

Interestingly enough, I once read that adults who talk like teenagers can be considered a pet peeve. I don’t consider it one of mine, but at least I’m in no danger of being someone’s pet peeve (reference my ignorance of today’s slang words as noted above).

My biggest pet peeve is, without a doubt, line cutters.  And variations thereof.

Keith has even said to me, “You REALLY have an issue with all types of line-cutting, don’t you?” We’ve been together almost 15 years and he’s just now figuring that out?

People who cut in line at theme parks.  Now wait just one damn minute, you hooligan, you!  If I have to wait in line for over an hour for one stinkin’ three-minute ride, then you should too! 

I’ve heard that Walt Disney World is cracking down on these little heathens and I must say, I’m not sad about it.  Eject them from the park, for all I care.  That could reduce my wait time by 10 minutes!

Drivers who “cut the line”. Oh, this is a BIGGIE! 

I completely despise when traffic is going to narrow to one lane and some a-hole zooms up to the “front of the line”. Why? Because they’re “special” and don’t need to use the the zipper method like the rest of us law-abiding citizens.

Medical care.  I could probably write an entire blog post on this one alone.  And honestly, I don’t think it’s because I’m old and doctors want to put me off.  I think our medical system is broken.  Badly.

Both my husband and I have needed to see a variety of doctors over the last year.  After calling for no less than two weeks to try and get an appointment, each of us have had to literally get in our respective vehicles and Drive. To. The. Doctor’s. Office. TO. MAKE. AN. APPOINTMENT. 

Some of you might be thinking … we could do this through a patient portal.  Nu-uh-uh. Not if you’re a new patient. If you’re a new patient, you have to be seen by the doctor before they’ll invite you to YOUR patient portal.

And getting prescriptions refilled, don’t get me started!

My primary care physician moved to a different practice earlier this year.  Yes, I am technically a new patient, even though I’ve been seeing her for the last 11 years.  The office’s auto-attendant reminds its patients that the best way to get a refill is to request it through the patient portal. 

The same patient portal that you can’t get into because you haven’t seen the doctor.

OK.  Next step:  call to schedule a new appointment.  Here again, they don’t answer and kindly remind you that you can schedule an appointment through the patient portal.

The same patient portal that you can’t get into because you haven’t seen the doctor.

So I drove to the office to schedule an appointment. 

But … she can’t give me any prescription refills (Which. She. Previously. Prescribed!) without seeing me.  Six weeks from now.

Luckily, I had other doctors (specialists, a second PCP) who graciously agreed to write the scripts for my refills.

But if I hadn’t had multiple PCPs or another doctor to prescribe the needed meds?  Yeah.  Screwed.

This level of “customer service” is not relegated to doctors offices.  Oh no!

There seems to be a prevalent issue with either customer service agents or phone systems in general.  Not sure which.  I’d be surprised if someone reading this hasn’t experienced the joy of being on hold, only for the call to get disconnected just as the customer service rep appears to answer.

We had one just like this!
I was helping my mom with an issue regarding a lost driver’s license. She wanted to call the toll-free number, so we did. The wait time, we were told, was 52 minutes.  Yes, she wanted to wait.  I get it, she was driving with a now-expired temporary license and was anxious to get the issue resolved.

One hour and three minutes later … and the system announces, “We’re sorry, there’s an issue with our system.  Please call back another time.” And. Disconnects. Us!!!!! Do better, Texas Department of Public Safety!

I’m not 100% cranky.  Not just yet.

I was recently told by someone who worked in a restaurant that I was “so smiley” and that it had made her day.  See? Not totally cranky.

Age comes with special benefits such as the body reminding you of how many years you’ve been on this planet.

Despite my efforts in the gym, the body is showing signs of aging.

I mean … does anyone else get cramps in their shins? Not shin splints. Cramps. The kind that wake you up from a dead sleep at 3:20 a.m., leaving you sleepless the rest of the night. Just me? Okay.

Random joint pain is a thing and that’s no fun either.

Earlier this year, I would wake up in the morning and had to practically use a pry-bar to unfurl my fingers – the pain in my hands (and what I thought was my joints), so bad.

So bad, that I made an appointment with a hand specialist who x-rayed my wrinkled hand and said there’s no inflammation in my joints, I have very little arthritis, but hey! “Did you realize you broke your finger? Looks like an older injury, but it’s healing up nicely, so no worries.”

Um … what?

Thanks to genetics, my skin is thinning at a more rapid rate than most. It doesn’t take much for me to bruise or for (what I call) wine stains to appear on my arms or hands from a simple scrape.

I have a couple of age spots too. When I asked my dermatologist if there was anything I could do, she smiled sympathetically and said, “those are wisdom spots, honey”.

Thank goodness our high school reunion is being held in the fall.  And I can cover up my wine-stained arms. My mission is simply to avoid scraping my hands in the next 36 hours so that they appear bruise-free when I see my classmates.

Has it really been 40 years?

It seems like just yesterday we were lighting our Senior Bonfire in celebration of homecoming. And crossing the stage at graduation. Having field parties and drinking Boone’s Farm. And taking our Senior Trip to Six Flags over Texas where one of our friends had somehow convinced a bakery to make a cake in the shape of a penis for us to enjoy. (I hope my mom isn’t reading this!)

I think about being a part of Student Council that ran for (and won!) president of the state’s Student Council Association using a theme of “The Best Little Council in Texas” (The movie “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas” came out that year. I’m not even sure I knew what a whore was.)

Side note: the town square in the tiny town where my father grew up was used prominently in that movie. But I digress …

And Red Ribbon Week during our Senior year. And wonder why in the world my friends and I thought black garbage bags made for a good punk rock costume.

I’m at an age where “classic rock” is the music I listened to while in high school. Hey! I resemble that.

When the opening strands of Rush’s “Limelight” starts, it immediately reminds me of the opening of our Senior Slideshow. The slideshow I’ll be watching with my classmates in just a few short hours.

Don’t know what a “slideshow” is? Look it up!

Or when “Don’t Stop Believin’” blasts out of the speakers. The song that I had lobbied my classmates to name as our “class song” (it didn’t win the vote and honestly, I have no idea what our “class song” ended up being – because “Don’t Stop Believin’” will always be the CHS Class of ‘83’s anthem in my mind.) (Just a Small Town Girl)

I also find that I quite frequently ask Alexa to play “70’s Rock” while I’m getting ready in the mornings.

In an instant, a song will take me back to riding in the back seat of my mom’s car (Blondie’s “The Tide is High”). Or a John Denver song that I remember hearing from my sister’s record player (we had vinyl first!)  I also frequently request Alexa the DJ to play John Denver nowadays.

And while I’m momentarily taken back to my childhood, I look in the mirror. And see wrinkles.

And I’m reminded that I’m due for a visit to the aesthetician.

Getting older means treating yourself on the regular. Massages and pedicures are my go-to.

And enjoying every little moment or milestone.

I’ve always loved a good sunset (Blue). But in the last year or so, I’ve learned to appreciate sunrises too.

As my husband and I sit on our pool deck each morning, enjoying our coffee, we watch the sun rise to yet another beautiful (if sometimes scalding hot) day.


We’re more into experiences than “things”.

He loves Ricky Martin’s music.  For his birthday this year, I’m taking him to see Ricky, along with Enrique Iglesias and Pitbull.  It’s a win-win as I love Pitbull and have been wanting to see him for a while. 

Maybe I am still hip.

I have to ask, though, do people even use the word “hip” anymore? (And not in the sense of the pain in their hip or a hip replacement.)

We’ve gone glamping for his birthday and hiked the Great Wall of China for mine.

We’ve gone ax-throwing, floated the river, and chased the waves at the coast with our Grands.

Experiences. Core memories.  So much to treasure.

We’ve just taken the Grands to a nearby pumpkin patch. The wagon was filled and re-filled with all of the different pumpkins they chose. The largest one they could find. A white one. One that was just right.

Pumpkins that we’ll carve in time for Halloween.

Halloween. Where hopefully hoards of kiddos will trample across our yard, setting our dogs off by ringing our doorbell, and asking for candy.

Candy which I hope they’ll take because I don’t need another inch added to my waistline. (The “battle of the bulge” takes on a whole new meaning when you hit your 50’s, that’s for sure!)

Wait. There’s going to be people trampling across my yard?

Get off my lawn!