I am not Old

Where have I been? Here, but preoccupied. I'm working diligently on wrapping up my friend, Carol's, video project. She cries every time she views it, so I guess it's going well. It takes a lot more time than anybody could imagine. To work on it is to enter an alternate universe, a deep void that I must jump into at the expense of my "real life." I spent so much time in the chair that I wrenched my lower back and that hurt for days. Actually, the wrench probably occurred when I decided to clean out the garage and basement thus throwing my sedentary body into shock.

I had to take a break from all that to catch things up at work (I've only made a dent since I only go in twice a week.) There were months worth of materials and tasks waiting for me. So more sitting. While my travels have come to an end Robert is still away on his boat trip. He and the crew made it down the east coast from Chesapeake Bay to Florida. He phones me daily with reports. When they landed in Titusville they unexpectedly saw the space shuttle launch. I can't imagine a better position to have viewed it. When they reached Palm Beach or (Miami?) he left for his friend's house in Naples where he'll visit for a few days before returning Friday. Besides fun, they are talking business. Hopefully, Steve's Midas touch will rub off on Robert and we'll become multi-millionares and have a yacht of our very own. Or not.

I've been sick the past two days with what I believe is food poisoning (I'm blaming McDonalds.) I feel crummy from the inside out. Nobody much knows because I'm not one of those people who wants to tell you all about my health problems. No sir. Because that would mean I've passed into that middle-aged stage where health issues begin to dominate conversation. I'm also not going to talk about beauty and cosmetic procedures because that would also signal I'm getting old and besides I believe in the power of mystery. Does she or doesn't she?

I've decided to be sick is to be old. And to be old is to be ugly and I'm having none of that. Used to be I barely minded being occasionally ill, but now when dull-headedness and achiness and weariness set in I start thinking, "what if this never went away? What if this is what old is?" Normally, I never give this subject much thought but things around me seem to beg the question. Robert's dad is in and out of the hospital fighting one ailment after another where the matter of going to the bathroom becomes fodder for public discussion ( Can he or can't he?) My own friends are beginning to do that thing we swore we'd never do: freely discuss health problems ( bad knees, arthritis, unexplained pain.)

Sara lent me a book by Nora Ephron she says is a good read, It's titled: I Feel Bad About My Neck" It's an old lady's lament of
growing old and ugly. Although it was essentially depressing observations veiled in humor, I read it as a book intended for "others," those post-menopausal women I certainly cannot imagine relating to. My wicked delight came in the thought that I have at least 20 good years before reaching their sad pinnacle. And then I ran to schedule my Botox appointment.

Yesterday I threw away what I thought was a mistakenly addressed piece of mail to Robert. It was from the AARP. I was unaware that at 50 he qualifies. I'm only four years away myself. Jeeze. It seems like the world is conspiring to make me feel old.