Pa-Diddle

Attending a wonderful benefit as a guest of the platinum sponsor. Seats right at the foot of the runway (kind of like Paris Hilton at Fashion Week!). Champagne flowing like water. Air kissing my new BFF's at the Valet station. Beamers, Lexus, etc, etc. Dear God, don't let that car with the burned out left headlight be mine. You can take the girl out of Collinwood, but you so can't take Collinwood out of the girl!! Sure enough -- that's my car.

A 50 year old woman is not much different than a 22 year old girl

Okay, we all know that is a big, fat lie -- a 50 year old woman is supposed to be far different from her 22 year old self. However, in my case, I seem to have been passed over by the maturity gene. I found myself just the other night sitting on my bed in the near dark because I ran out of replacement light bulbs, and the light next to my bed was dark. And I needed light because I was using my manicure scissors to pull the teeney, tiny black thread stitches out of the also black lining of my black sheath dress that fits almost perfectly except across my butt, my hips and my gut.

Some might say - "don't wear it to work tomorrow." Others might add "or go sit somewhere that has more light to pull out the stitches." HA! Both those solutions are for amateurs! I managed to do what I needed to, while at the same time marveling at how hot Andy Garcia still is as I watched a PBS special on Cuban music.

So, to skip to the end of the story -- I squeezed myself into the sheath not unlike a sausage into its casing, and wore it with a chunky pearl necklace, a black ruffled cardigan and black pointy-toe sling backs the next day -- couldn't decide if I was totally stylin' or looked like an Italian widow.

The point of my story? This is pretty much a typical night for me. Sadly, I never have the proverbial light bulb when I need the light. I wonder if it is because I am single? That I wing it basically all the time because I can? Or would I be the same way even with a bossy husband and a bunch of kids? Probably.

Midlife Crisis

What a cliche, I always thought. A midlife crisis. Spare me. Doesn't it suck how so many things we always tossed off as ridiculous come back later to bite us in the ass?

Okay, so it isn't easy when you wake up one day and realize you are among the oldest in your work environment. When you realize the cute guy you instinctively check out is young enough to be your son. But I digress....

The real issue isn't in the looking forward. No, the issue is trying to keep yourself from looking back. The 'what ifs?" The road not taken. I am not a particularly retrospective person, but lately, I find I am a bit obsessed with decades past. It is indeed a slipperly slope and probably not a healthy one. Is it inevitable that this nostalgia head trip happens, or can it be avoided? Just for the record, The Big Chill is not as great a movie as I remembered it to be. I imagine that is the same for our memories. If we could go back, it would probably not change anything. Our choices, for better or for worse, are the ones that are right for that time. But I guess I will still pay the $$ to see what I anticipate will be the next Big Chill, for our time. Hot Tub Time Machine, here I come. A fine film!