The old 'double-nickle' birthday arrived a few weeks ago with minor celebratory fanfare and a new level of mental anguish over this whole aging thing. As my dad used to say, no sense in dreading the big dirt nap as it is going to arrive one day no matter what one does to avoid it. But, certain birthdays become cause for reflection, and this is one of them.
These are some conclusions I've come to recently...
We're at that age where... Steve waters all of our outdoor plants (on the lanai fortunately), cleans the fountain and sweeps up the dead leaves while wearing his underwear. Why, you ask? Because he's at that age where he no longer cares what the neighbours think.
...We drink our coffee on the lanai most every morning; Steve still in his underwear and me in mismatched ten year old pajamas with bed hair and my glasses on. You know, the ones where the metal finish has flaked off unevenly on the frames? I've often thought if it weren't for the nice, new patio furniture we would look like an ad with the caption underneath "...for just pennies a day you can feed and clothe this couple".
...We've started spiralizing our zucchini because we're totally confused about what to do with gluten these days, and apparently zucchini has the ability to fool us into thinking it is a legitimate substitute for pasta.
Honestly, spiralizing our zucchini sounds more to me like an experiment that belongs in a biology lab. And in order to spiralize we have to use a tool called "The Veggetti" which brings to mind some kind of instrument that my gynecologist might use during an annual check-up. Fortunately it is neither, and its sole task is to take a zucchini and cut it into one long, continuous ten foot noodle that can be cooked as if one had diced the zucchini and cooked it like normal in the first place. But, it was on sale for $14.99 at Bed, Bath and Beyonce' (that's what we call it) and we knew our lives would be incomplete from this moment forward if we did not get it. Besides, maybe it is the answer to the mystery surrounding gluten.
In addition to the thrills swirling around the Veggetti we are also a jangle of nervous excitement waiting for the arrival of Steve's new compression sock to aid in the healing of his plantar fasciitis. Being in ones fifties is, in fact, far more exciting than we were led to believe. The anticipation of this sock coming via the US Postal Service is reminiscent of being a kid and running out to the mailbox everyday to see if the Christmas card from the Grandma that sent cash had arrived. I miss those days...
We have very high expectations of this sock. I bought mine the previous week at Sports Authority, and we just know it's going to allow us to stand upright and walk again without doing the chimpanzee shuffle. We might even briefly appear to be in our forties once more, as opposed to hobbling and limping along as if headed down the hallway to our assisted living apartment.
When we travel these days and check into a hotel it's no longer that kind of place where a famous rock band is checking in at the same time. This summer in our wanderings, the kind of hotel we now stay at had "The Havanese Dog Lovers Convention" booked during our visit, and all of the dogs were guests in the hotel too. Sigh...it's just not as exciting as the days when it was Tina Turner, Boy George, Harrison Ford and the likes.
Now, if it had been a CAT Lovers convention I may have skipped writing that previous paragraph. Because that would be awesome!