Archive for November, 2010

Crankypants

November 10, 2010

When I started blogging in January, I mentioned I was turning 60 this year. However that was 3 seasons ago, and I had all of Spring, Summer and Fall to look forward to. I had an extra hour of life (Spring forward, Fall back) that somehow figured into things. Well. Things moved along at quite a clip in 2010, and now Sixty is right in front of me, making a “V” with her fingers and pointing them at her eyes, then my eyes, back at her eyes, back at my eyes….. yeah I get it, I get it. And if Sixty tries to get on a plane anytime soon, it’s gonna cost her at least 90 bucks to check those undereye bags. Sixty is not holding up well. The Bitch.

Sixty is old. Granny Clampett old.

I would prefer to be Susan Sarandon old, but I am not sure how much say I have in the matter anymore.

It has been a tough year. You can’t fight off gravity and gravitas forever. There was that heart attack thing with Mr. GG, remember? There was a shitload of little physical glitches that would have made a younger woman shrug it off and take it in stride. Unlike me, who took it all with a screech, some pouting and maybe a lot of whining about how, “It’s not fair!!!”

So as Sixty creeps up on her palsied, cellulite ridden limbs, I ‘ve noticed that I am in a constant state of snark. I got through the election. I went around all day with the “I Voted” sticker on my chest, but it was all I could do not to add another sticker beneath it that said, “You Assholes”. But thank god, it’s over. And I am maintaining a tenuous hold on my sensibilities by turning off the TV anytime George W. flogs his new book.

And all of a sudden children are irritating. Although maybe it is only the screeching, whining kids who play tag in stores while their oblivious parents yack on cell phones. Oh. That is almost all children in Utah. And Jeez, do I not want to hear some of the one-sided monologues I hear from those cell phone conversations. It is all I can do to stifle snide comments.

And then there is my workout time at the pool in the health club. Yesterday a father continually dunked his squirming, squealing teenage nymphette daughter while I glowered at them. Then he got in a splash fight with his 6 year old son, managing to soak me in the process (and this was half an hour after the pool was closed to children). Meanwhile there was a posturing group of 3 teens, one doughy guy in baggy trunks, one ripped guy in snug trunks, and one girl in hot pink boy shorts with most of her body exposed. I didn’t know you could get asses that small and tight. It looked like somebody pasted 2 little crabapples on her backside. You can imagine the group dynamics of that trio. It was nauseating to watch. Especially since I never had the body, the swimwear, or the chutzpah to pull off that scenario at any age.

And I get back from the gym to find Mr. GG snitching some of the chocolate chip cookies I baked for the Baby. “What?”, he says, when I glare at him. “I burned off 200 calories on the treadmill”. While I wonder what kind of person can be so oblivious about the calorie count of cookies. Especially MY chocolate chip cookies which have 3 sticks of butter and 5 cups of chocolate chips in them.


BACK AWAY FROM THE COOKIES MR. GG!!!!

Yeah, Sixty is a bitch. And I still have over a week to go. Maybe I should think of some fun thing to do that only a fifty-something would do, but who knows what that might be. Well. Guess I'm off to find out. Later.