Old and Decrepid

     Who knew. I am old. Not even middle aged. I mean, ELDERLY, old. I am reminded of it constantly. From my children:

     "Mom, was color invented when you were a kid, or, was everything still black and white?"

     "Did the dinosaurs die before, or after you were born?"

     "You were born in the 1970's??? Wow. You are soooo old, Mom."

From my poor arthritic body that creaks and groans when standing, making the first 5 steps not unlike those of a gangly newborn giraffe. The same body that can accuritely predict incoming rain and the severity of it days before any satalite or the National Weather Service can. (Sorry, to my Dad who was a highly educated Meteorologist and predicted weather for 30+ years. Arthritis wins over college here, Dad.)

     People in the public sector, as well. A patient of mine the other day, when a student nurse was tagging along with me for her clinicals:

     "Oh! We have a young one in here!" Comments the 70 something patient.

     "Are you implying that I am old, there, mister?"

     "Well, she isn't as old as you and I are, you know."

Or the kid at K-Mart yesterday. All I wanted to do, was replace my crockpot. I use it constantly, esp when I work, so that dinner is done for the kids, with minimal effort from the sitters or Kaila. The ceramic pot cracked awhile back, so I haven't been able to use it lately. My kids have eaten a lot of pancakes, spaghetti and fish sticks. Nobody in my household (and probably the sitter, too) wants to ever see any of these foods again. And, no names here, (SARA RALEY CECCHIN!!!) but someone recently posted a bunch of crockpot recipies, reminding me that I really needed to replace my crockpot. Here I am, dropping the the ball, depriving my kids of decent meals, because I can't seem to even remember to buy a new one. (Another sign of old age.)
     So, yesterday, I do my hair, get all dressed, I WORE EARINGS, for heaven's sake! I never get to wear earings anymore. When I do, my kids and husband become all suspicious.

     "Where are you going?"
    
     "I am going too!"

     "Are you going someplace we don't know about?"
     "You're going to be gone a long time, aren't you?"
     "Are you SURE you're just going grocery shopping?"

     "Why are you wearing those? I mean, REALLY, why are you wearing those?"

Nothing like your family, making you feel like you are are reformed hooker, about to fall off the wagon. So, anyhow, I get all dressed up, because I get to go all the way to Olean, just George and myself, to do fun shopping. I get to buy stuff to make baby presents for several people having babies, I get to buy a crockpot, and browse through the garden dept of K Mart and checkout herb and veggie seeds, and buy stuff to repot my plants. Plants that I rescued from a dark corner at work, struggling at death's door, and smuggled home to revive. They deserved new pots. All happy, earings jingling cheerfully at my earlobes, I go to the checkout, where the young man cashing me out starts off with:

     "And, would you like the extended warranty for your new appliance, Ma'am?" (Let's be honest here. Unless it's a hot Southern man with a sexy drawl, born and raised to call everyone 'Ma'am', immediatley making you  want to, you know, wear earings for him.... we all cringe a little when the word 'Ma'am' is used.)

     "No thanks"

     "You sure?"

     "My last crockpot lasted almost 17 years. I'm not too worried."

     "Wow! That's like, only 2 years younger than I am! That's like, OLD!" The shocked little darling bursts out. I went home and took the earings out.

     But, there is hope. I bought workout DVD's. With the assurances of the commercial, a lot of imagination, some hope, and the desperate wish for pixie dust, and four magic wands,  I can absolutely look like a Brazillian swimsuit model in only a few short weeks. Which will absolutely make me look young, solve all my problems, make me healthy, wealthy and afford me the ability to wear earrings without interogation. Ha!