I hope you are better than 2020. (2020 can suck it.)
I’m not one for resolutions. I usually declare things I won’t do or won’t give up. Just to be contrary. (Look. Listen. Give me this one rebellious thing. That’s about the only one!)
Put up with less than I need/deserve/worked for, etc. I am not a “Welcome!” mat. Mixed progress: I occasionally washed other people’s dishes and clothes, but I got better about calmly explaining what was bothering me.
Save money. Yeah, I know I should, but let’s be honest: I won’t. Success: I didn’t.
Stay home. I want to say “absof–kinlutely” to adventures near and far. Dream scenario: I get paid to write about it. Fail: I think we all know what happened this year.
Continue procrastinating on my book. This is the year I finish it, write the proposal, and find an agent. If E.L. James can become rich and famous off her trashTwilight fan fictionwork, so can I. Fail: I did absolutely no work on it. Lack of motivation, thy name is COVID-19.
Lose more than just five more pounds. I’m calling that my “wine cushion.” Success: I found a few pounds more of me. Pandemic pounds FTW!
Stay in this place with the small kitchen. When it’s a pain to make things as fairly easy as Scotch eggs, it’s time to upgrade. Success: We moved to a larger place with a slightly larger kitchen.
Ignore show suggestions from certain like-minded people. I resisted watching “Killing Eve.” I was stupid. Success: I’m even taking suggestions from randos on Twitter. I’ve got some issues with “Bridgerton.” Who wants to chat about it with me?
Let people try to make me feel even slightly embarrassed about my love of bad taxidermy. Those uptight people can shove it. My obsession is Hando approved. Success: I let my freak flag fly this year to positive results.
Vote for Trump. Duh. Success: Duh.
Stop writing blog posts at least twice a week. I’ve been keeping this pace since April, so I’m pretty proud of myself. Success-ish: I was doing well until the holidays. I blame Netflix.
In 2021, I will not:
Take for granted the ability to hug friends, see a movie in a theater, see live music, eat in a restaurant, travel, go out without a mask, work out at the gym, etc.
Take for granted physical mobility. (This was the year I broke my ankle and damaged my rotator cuff. So that’s been fun.)
Lament a packed schedule of in-person meetings.
Ever get off political mailing lists, apparently.
Be able to wear real shoes again without dealing with discomfort. (I wore flip flops for six months straight.)
Today we have been married longer than many of my students have been alive.
Yikes.
One of your friends wrote on Facebook about her parents being married 58 years. She said, “It has never been perfect, but it has always been interesting.”
Yeah. What she said.
The last couple of years have been TOUGH for us. Hormonal teenagers, a big move, new jobs, a PANDEMIC — many factors have made it difficult.
I try to remember why we’ve lasted this long.
It can be summed up in two photos:
This is actually when my obsession with bad taxidermy began: Eddie and I were replicating specimens while waiting for a kids field trip to begin.
Clearly the same sense of humor.
In fact, this time five years ago, we were in Italy. One of the highlights of the trip was taking photos with a man sleeping next to us at a restaurant.
We ended up seeing our new friend the next day. He was looking a bit worse for wear.
Interestingly, later in the trip we became somewhat of a zoo exhibit ourselves.
Yes, those are the fish that eat dead skin.
In addition to the funny factor, you also are willing to go along with my crazy plans.
Halloween 2012: I handled the costumes and makeup. I’m crafty once a year.
We also find the same things horrifying. Like a house full of dolls and tchotchkes. Shudder.
Your face says it all.
Thank you for two great kids and many years of good memories. Hope we can keep on laughing!
(Oh wait: Sorry, I’m wrong. Trump promised to “make America great again,” so this must be great. Silly me.)
As a palate cleanser, here are 10 things I learned about my kids over the past two weeks, told in photos with captions.
1. Dominic is more responsible and interested in hanging out with the family now that he is “on a break” from his latest high-maintenance girlfriend.
2. He can be very charming, personable and helpful — even going as far as rowing me around a lake.
3. A boat in a lake is a good place to have serious conversations about life.
4. He won’t go hungry. He can at least make restaurant-quality breakfast sandwiches.
5. He can’t help himself: He is compelled to harass his brother.
6. His brother is a big fat ham.
7. Gideon doesn’t really like cake. He wanted a flan for his birthday. I’d never made a flan before, but it turned out so well (Behold the Birthday Flan!) that I think it’s going to be my signature dessert.
8. Gideon likes to help me make anything in the kitchen. He enjoys cooking as much as I do.
9. He and I feel the same way about hiking unmarked trails in the rain to get to an anticlimactic lookout.
10. We like the same shows.
There’s my dose of positivity today. I’ll reread as necessary to keep my spirits up.What are your bright spots? Please share!
I basically keep this blog to amuse myself and you. As always, I give you permission to laugh at my expense. I hope this post makes you laugh as much as I did when it all happened.
Side note: I always go early enough to see the openers. Local H is great; I highly recommend.
Anyway, after their set, Center Stage turned up the lights. Not such a great move. Lots of middle-aged folks out on a school night. (Many drinking shots, but that’s another story.)
I asked Eddie if we looked as old and used-up as so many of the people around us.
He looked horrified and practically yelled, “No!”
So I tried to take a photo of us to make sure.
So I tried again.
So clearly, Eddie is wrong, and I fit in well with the crowd.
I either take decent photos or really bad ones. This night was the night of the living dead, photo-wise. Apparently. No good would come of my attempts.
Y’all know I have no shame.
So I leaned into it.
Hard.
Does this angle make my lip look big?
Beth = Ghostface from “Scream”
Maybe if I find my light …
I started laughing.
And you know me: Once I start, I can’t stop.
I started doing that wheeze laugh I do. I laughed so hard I started crying.
I laugh-cried off all my (nickel-free) eye makeup. The people next to us moved. For real.
Once Soul Asylum started playing, I shuffled my dried-up husk of a body to the front.
Dave Pirner has some miles on him too, but he brought his A game.
Not as much energy as the gondolier guitarist, though.
One good thing about a show with lots of old people around: You can get close to the stage without worrying about compromising personal space. Or finding yourself in a mosh pit.
Soul Asylum played their new stuff plus all the hits. Of course. Including that song EVERYBODY knows.
It was a good show with good photos of everyone but me, apparently.
I’m so excited that my badgering has paid off. Here’s another guest post. The Royce had a birthday last week, and it prompted some reflection.
I’ll be back next week with a story about the eldest. Parents with teenagers will relate.
Love,
Beth
This is The Royce in his natural habitat.
Aging vs. Old: A Rant
Guest post by The Royce
So, yesterday was my birthday. And that’s good because, hey, another trip around the sun, right? But somewhere along the way — in the last, oh say, few years or so (I don’t know whatever) — it occurred to me that, while I am not old (yet), I am, in fact, aging. Maybe I’m finally “of a certain age” — whatever the hell that entails — because, while I’m definitely still an easygoing person, little things are starting to grind my gears just a bit.
Like those damn neighborhood kids walking in my yard! LOLJK. (Note from Beth: I don’t think he is, in fact, JK.)
Though it’s commonly *cough* invariably *cough* attached to middle age and miracle creams, signs of aging actually applies to things other than crow’s feet and smile lines.
I’m talking about the less-obvious, non-physical signs of aging. Because like it or not, every day of every year, you’re aging. You just don’t notice it.
Until you do.
And then you notice it again. And again. It’s a lot like buying a new car that you thought was unique and rare until you drive off the lot and there’s three of the same vehicle waiting at the first intersection you get to.
On Jan. 13, 1974, the Super Bowl was on my seventh birthday, and I got to watch my favorite team, the Miami Dolphins, become two-time world champions against the Minnesota Vikings. Not a bad day for a kid.
In 2020, the game is three weeks later, two hours longer, and the pre-game show lasts half a day. WTH?
When did that happen?
You see, that’s not old. That’s aging.
Recently I went out with my lovely wife to meet some friends visiting from out of town. We arrived a few minutes early and looked over the drink menu while we waited.
I’m sorry, but WTF?! How did a cocktail get to be $14 in this town? (Note from Beth: They live in Savannah.) Did I teleport to Manhattan when I walked
through the door to this place?
Again: Not old. Aging.
You know why people don’t go out as much when they get a little older? It’s less about being tired and more because we don’t want to get bent over paying those ridiculous prices every time we feel like having a nice meal somewhere. Hey, how about we go out for dinner and have a couple glasses of WELL SHIT THERE GOES A HUNDRED BUCKS.
No, it’s not denial. Old will, with some luck, arrive eventually.
But for now … nah, not old. Merely aging, just like I have every day of my life. And considering the alternative, I’m fine with that.
Seriously, though. Would it kill the little cretins to stay off my lawn?
Dear Friends Who Were Shocked I Didn’t Call Someone Out on Chauvinist Crap,
Y’all (rightfully) pointed out that it was not like me to stay quiet when someone says something backwards or dumb. I defended myself in this instance saying that the fellow in question was about 90 and deaf, and I’m a new member of the organization.
Still.
At the very least, I should have just made a joke about it right then and there.
But here’s a followup:
I had lunch yesterday with the female past president who was sitting next to our elderly subject when he made the comment. She was the first female member and first female president of this organization. And, in fact, some members left the organization when she joined. Granted, this was 30 years ago.
I shared with her my mortification. She said she was shocked too, as this man has always been a huge supporter of women in the club, herself included.
We talked a while. In short, our 94-year-old friend may have some cognitive decline that caused his commentary.
So.
Saying something wouldn’t have made a difference. And I know everyone else at the table felt the same way I did, so no education needed there.
But still, I’ve learned a valuable lesson.
See/hear something: Say something — anything!
It’s a good reminder for everyone: Things won’t change with silence.
So I decided to see for myself. It was indeed slimy. And cold.
