2 gold stars to the person who knows the origin of the title.
(I'm going to make the text bigger)
There. That's better. Old people problems, starting with eyesight. What happens? What are the changes? Dry hair and skin (I'm going to start at the top and work my way down). Gray hair (not a problem, mine's silver and I like it). Dry skin means no more acne (YAY!). Eyesight changes. I was so offended when the optometrist told me I needed bifocals.
Skin that, shall we say, sags on my face. As a seamstress I understand how to fix that with assorted tucks and alterations. However, as Not a Doctor, I won't do it on myself. Occasionally I'll look in the mirror and pull back a bit right at my ears, and temporarily lose 10 years from the look of my face. As a frugal (some say cheap) person, I will not spend the money to do something so frivolous as get a facelift. Nor will I do other things to youngify (I just verbed an adverb!) my body, especially if it's purely cosmetic. Other things sag as well, but since I'm not a Ford Model, or a Bunny, or anyone else with a Sugar Daddy W/Deep Pockets, those procedures will remain undone.
It is an odd feeling, is it not, to have the same brain as I had when I was 16 or 20, only with 56 years worth of experiences. To have children older than I was when I gave birth to them. My youngest is nearing 23 (on the 31st). My mental image of him is from a series of photographs I took when he was 4. He was wearing blue overalls and a bright red shirt, playing in the back yard with his Tonka trucks. I am sure he would resent me thinking of him this way. One surprising lesson I learned with having 4 kids was this: Each child remained a baby until the next one came along. I have no trouble seeing the other 3 as adults in their 30's. Even if they don't act like it. (another story that shall remain untold here). But #4...sigh. Capt has been instrumental in me treating #4 like an adult.
I remember, as a child, having Nuclear Bomb Drills. Those involved crouching under my desk at school. As if those desks were All Powerful Protection against a weapon only God could contain. Now kids do Active Shooter drills. With the way things are going at the moment (March 16, 2022), it may not be too long before Nuclear Bomb Drills are reinstated. I hate (grieve, worry) that the world seems to be headed that direction. Our current administration is as weak as it's ever been, and the rest of the world knows that.
Which brings me to the other changes. Capt and I are dreamers. We've worked hard to facilitate dreams we've both had for a very long time. Scuba diving, fishing charter, an RV to live in while running fishing charters. A place in Florida to park the RV. All things we've done to further a life we have both wanted. Now? Fuel costs mean it would cost more to go to Florida than the price of a charter. The boat and truck are parked. Hell, it costs $10 in fuel just to go to town and back. So we drive the little one, it's gas instead of diesel so it's only $4 for a run to town. We are doing work on the Alabama property now, getting it functional in the event we actually have to live here full time and grow our own food. We can do it and I am thankful we have the option. Not everyone does. But getting all ready and excited then having it yanked out from underneath by an event over which we have no control is...well...offensive. Yes. I'm offended. And angry. And resentful. I'm also pissed that my family doesn't understand what I'm feeling. They all think I should be perfectly content to stay right here (like they are) and simply don't understand why I would ever want to do something so frivolous as, y'know...have a dream and want to follow it. Pisses me right the hell off. All of it.
All I really want to do now, since I can't go to Florida (or the Caribbean, thank you COVID You Asshole) is sit on the couch and read books. Let the house go to pot (Eventually pride and bipolar mania will set in and I'll clean things up), eat salad from a bag and cheetoes, and occasionally walk the property and wish.
But, thanks to ch...ch...changes and all the strange I have to face, thanks to inflation and fuel costs and other things I have to complain about, I am forced to sit here and reconsider it all. I am being made to face my own selfish sense of entitlement because I've got a nice roof over my head, no one is throwing bombs at my children, or blowing up the grocery store....in which there is ample food (even if there's no hashbrown patties and limited selection of Ore-Ida frozen potatoes). I have a way to plant a garden that I know won't get run over by army tanks, and plenty of seeds. If it came down to it, there's a pond full of fish and a backyard full of healthy squirrels and an occasional deer. I can make a mean Brunswick stew with a couple of squirrels and some leftover pork. I've got dependable electricity, and the ability/know-how for preserving food if electricity fails. So really, in the grand scheme of things and in spite of all my griping, I've got it good. Sometimes I need to remind myself.
