Sunday, February 23, 2014

What 42 Looks Like

This is what 42 looks like.


42.  That number blows my mind, I'm not going to lie. When I was younger ... A LOT younger, I looked at 42 as an age of wisdom and maturity and, well, of being old.

And now I am there.  

I don't feel like I've gained any wisdom ... 

Or maturity ...

I do feel old ... sometimes.  Like right now.  My bad knee aches.  I sound old when I refer to my "bad" knee as such ... Okay, so maybe I am old.

It just boggles my mind that 20 years have passed so quickly.  I remember being 22 ... vaguely.  It was a year of so many changes, chiefly graduating from college. And I remember thinking that I couldn't fathom 20 years into the future.  I had plans, for sure, but to see the future? I just couldn't do it.  I had some ideas of what 20 years would look like.

I figured it would look like me ... 

Married
With a corporate career
Living in a nice house
Taking fun, possibly exotic vacations
Saving for early retirement
Fit and able to wear a bikini (okay, this is more of a day dream ...)

That isn't what 42 looks like, however. 

I am not married.  Mr. Right eludes me.
I am a teacher.  The job is hard and very rarely makes me feel uplifted.
I do live in a nice house ... one that I AM paying for ... on my own.  A small point of pride, I will admit. 
I do not take fun, exotic vacations.  I don't have the money for such things.
I have no money for early retirement.  In fact, I am probably going to be retiring after all of my peers. 
I am no where near fit or able to wear a bikini.  No one would want to see that.

Still, 42 looks like a confident woman who has managed to carve out an existence for her and her spoiled feline without a lot of help from any one person.  42 looks like fine lines and achy muscles and dreams and wishes and hopes and smiles and tears and anger and pain and all those things and more things.  

42 looks vastly different from 22, and for that, I am grateful.

Here's hoping 42 will be my best year yet!


Tuesday, February 04, 2014

GRUMBLY, COMPLAINY, GROUCHY, FUSSY

Today has been a struggle.

You name it ... physically, emotionally, mentally, psychologically, professionally, nutritionally, relationally, fashionally, ...

Really?  You want me to go on?  Because I could.  I could pull some -ally words out of places you really don't want me to pull them.  I really could.

I am not sure why it's been a struggle.

Maybe because I just watched my Facebook movie over the last ten years of wasted time on that time suck and saw my life flash before me in very unflattering photos.

It could be due to being asked more times than I care to even calculate if there were any single men at the Super Bowl Party I went to.

The weather?  It could be the weather.  Kentucky has spoiled me.  It made me think that winters down here were pretty well sans snow, like the snow I am used to in Michigan ... that we had to shovel over and over and over and over and over ...

Winter has been a cruel friend this year, hitting me with crazy winter storms and ugly single digit temperatures.

I fear for what Spring has up her floral-printed sleeve.  Yes, Spring wears floral prints.  What of it?!

There's the smallest possibility that it's the amount of meetings I've been required to go to this year.  Yeah, that might be it. Or the fact that nothing I do seems just quite good enough.  Maybe that's it.

Perhaps it's the state of things in the world today, what with the lack of world peace and all.

Whatever it is, yesterday, I said out loud, in a public forum, for tons and tons of people to witness it, that I chose contentment over fussy and grumpy.

I suspect that's like praying for patience.  I suspect this because today, all I've been is grumbly and complainy and grouchy and fussy ... lest we forget whiny.  I've been whiny.

I have a bag full of stuff to do.  For the life of me I can not screw up the motivation to do them.

I think I am going to take my festering jumble of grumbly, complainy, grouchy, fussy self and head to bed.