Saturday, September 21, 2013

Aging is for Chesee

I was talking to some co-workers the other day, explaining that the wife and I were going to a party for one of our friends; thus, we wouldn't be able to attend the work party.  I explained how I felt badly that we couldn't go to the work festivities, but friends before work.  We're yipping and yapping until I notice the look on their faces.  I couldn't figure out what I could have possibly said that would elicit slack jaws and wide eyes, quickly hidden behind nods and polite, close-mouth smiles....

....then, I realized the problem.  I was talking to 20-something and 30-something-year-olds about going to a party for a friend's 60th birthday.

Sixty????!!!  That stunned them right into silence.

I never really thought about how "old" I am in their eyes until that conversation.  I should have taken a clue when two people in the past weeks have asked if I have any grandchildren.  I stopped and thought about how  I "look" to them.....

Almost every one of our friends is in the 50-60 year old category.  I don't think about it because we are in the same boat and we've all been growing "old" together and we all do pretty dang good for our age. You don't see people age as much when you are on the "inside" as those who are on the "outside."  Besides, isn't 50 the new 40?

Thank god I have MJagger as a friend, as she is only 41.  She brings the age average down for my gaggle of friends.  Without her, I'm thinking the average age would be 59 and I'm not kidding.  I think she brings it down to 58.

The wife is by far the youngest person in our circle of friends...and, she is 49.  When I say that, I'm thinking, "wow, she's really young."  I can't believe she is "still" in her 40's. When I tell that fact to my co-workers, they can only smile politely, as 49 is ancient to them and I am "ancient-er."  ANCIENT!

I do not even want to think about how our teenage nieces view us.  Please do not ask them.  I will be morose for weeks and need to triple all medication.

I took a quick survey of our friends.  Although most are in their mid-to-late 50's, they really do look good.  Well, they look good from my 51 year old perspective. No, really--they look good for their age.  (That's a cold, cold sentence--when someone says you look good for your age, you should probably slap them.)  When I started to think about why this might be true, I decided the following:

1.  Shooting out babies ages you by a zillion percent.  Not the actual shooting out of the baby; rather, it is raising said baby, losing all those hours of sleep--whether it be from new born crying or waiting for that naughty teenage to return in the middle of the night.  Not sleeping has to age you.  The majority of our friends have not given birth to anything but pets and that doesn't count.  When I asked the wife what she thought was the number one thing she thought ages people, she said, "having kids."  She didn't even know I was writing a blog, so this is an untainted answer.

God love you parents.  We salute you. 

Now, that's not to say we don't have friends who have had children--we have many friends who are parents. For some reason, they've maintained their youthful glow.  Dee Zee and Chick-a-hello both gave birth to children and they look amazing.  Maybe they had kids that slept through the night, thus no sleep was lost and they kept their youthful glow.  I'll have to ask them their secrets.  

2.  We dress younger than we are.  That can be good and bad.  We might end up looking ridiculous but the majority of us don't seem to mind, care or notice.  Perhaps it's because the group of friends I am picturing eschew frumpy house dresses & menopausal-pooch-enhancing polyester pants.  I'm sure MJagger is mortified by my wardrobe selections, but she has to give me props for avoiding stretch-pants, giant floral prints or Velcro anything.  No one in our group wears mini-skirts, daisy-duke shorts, mid-drifts or mohawks, so I think that is in our favor.  We tend to comfortable clothing, spitting on anything that causes pain or discomfort.  (Why people insist on wearing uncomfortable shoes of any kind, I do not know.  Life is too short to wear uncomfortable shoes.)

.....you know, if I take the view that my 20-something year old co-worker has, I'm thinking I might be mortified by my wardrobe choices and think we look ridiculous, too.  Piss on him.  He needs to respect his elders.

3. We have a youthful, gaggle-supporting approach to life.  We are, for the most part, physically active, fun-loving, friend-supporting, life-loving people.  We have an amazing network of friends, which is timeless and ageless.  Everyone should have friends like we have.  Talk about rallying the troops when needed--our gaggle flocks around those in need without even asking or judging.  Friends help keep you young, happy, healthy, whole.  How can you be old when laughing to the point you are snorting or peeing?

Side note: I do not pee when I laugh but will gladly point the finger at those who do.  I don't usually snort, either.  I do slap my hand on my thigh and throw my head back like a Muppet when guffawing but no pees or snorts.  Just sayin.'

4.  We are delirious.  Since we see each other so often and as we are aging together, we really don't see how old we look or are.  We look like us.  When you see someone all the time, you don't notice the subtle changes until it's too late or it's uber-obvious.  The numbers 50 or 60 don't mean anything.  They are not associated with an "old" or "young" age.  They are just numbers and reality says we are delirious and don't think about this.  I think being delirious is a great thing, so I plan on staying delirious.

5.  We are in complete and full denial.  See Number 4 above.

6.  No, seriously--we are delirious and in denial.

After all this contemplation, for me, it comes down to this: age is a number and aging is for cheese, not me.

And, if I don't look in the mirror, I can't really see the things that suggest aging is indeed in progress--you know, deepening wrinkles, changing chin and neck lines, sagging this or that.  My insides tell me I'm much younger than my outsides suggests, so I'm going with what's inside.

I plan on being a tattooed-converse-gym-shoe-wearing-xena-t-shirt-clad 80-something-year-old. And, I will still feel much younger on the inside than what you see on the outside.  I promise I'll stop dying my hair by then, but only because I want to, not because anyone says I should.

Of course, that means our friends will be between 80-90 years old.  You best get out of the way of these ladies because they are going to run circles around you 50-60 years old....

....you have been warned.  Try to keep up.
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Sunday, September 08, 2013

Warrior Minister Princess meets the Rolling Stones

From the Addiverse Sinister Minister Department: After leading a kick-ass service for the wife's sister just a few weeks back, I am sad to say that my next gig--yesterday--did not fare as well; in fact, I would say I crashed and burned.  Like an athlete who looks back on the tapes to see how he/she can improve overall performance, I took a look at my own mental tape to see where things went amiss.

Before reviewing the tape, I remind myself to only include variables I can address or control. For instance, the wedding was on the banks of a busy river. There is nothing I could do about the Rolling Stones cover band playing a concert across the river.  (Lesson to all: the Rolling Stones will ALWAYS drown out a harpist playing Ave Maria.)  I can't control the weather, the position of the sun or the pontoon boat floating down the river playing nasty rap songs.  (What kind of pontooners play rap? Shouldn't they be playing Little Big Town?)  But, there are a lot of things I can--and didn't--control.  Live and learn.

I think one of the most ironic thing about this whole sub-par performance is that the mother of the bride asked me, "Aren't you nervous?" before the ceremony began. I certainly was not and told her so.  She asked, "Don't you ever get nervous when doing weddings?" Again, I told her no, because it's true--it doesn't make me nervous.

You bet your ass I'll be nervous before the next wedding I perform.  Thanks for nothing.

So, what did I learn, you ask?

(1) I need to get new glasses, preferably ones that will stay in place when I look down to read the script. It was 90 degrees and I was standing directly facing the sun, so I knew I would sweat.  What I failed to realize is that the glasses I currently wear tend not to hang on when I look down.  They hang on even less when I am sweating and looking down.  Those of you who know me know that I am quite blind without my spectaculars, so worrying about said glasses falling off my face threw me off my game.  I spent more time hoping to the baby Jesus that my glasses wouldn't tumble to the ground.  It was awful.  I suppose I could have worn one of those wrap-around things that hold glasses in place (Croakies?) but that would've been tacky, even if they matched my outfit.  New glasses.  New glasses are my top priority right now.

(2) Practice with a mike stand.  Due to the size or location of the previous weddings I've performed, I've never had to use a mike stand before.  Mikes, yes.  Mike and stand, no. I didn't think this would be a problem but it was--with my glasses falling down, I had to put the book in front of the mike stand--holding it there helped me not have to look so far down and thus gave me a chance to keep my glasses perched somewhere on my face.  Holding it there unfortunately meant some of the words were behind the stand, so I couldn't read/see full sentences.  Since I had to edit the script at the last minute (taking out all that religious stuff), it was already tough enough.  It was awful.

(3)  Get the reader's name right and write it down.  Geez, I asked her before the service how to pronounce her last name.  I practiced it three times but didn't write it down the way it is pronounced.I figured I'd remember it. I introduce her, I mangled it beyond recognition.

(4) Try to get the vows right.  After all, they are repeating exactly what I say. I was tongue-tied, distracted  by the Rolling Stones, praying my glasses wouldn't fall off and dripping sweat between my legs. Despite this, I should be able to get the vows correct--preferably in complete English sentences. You know it's not good when the bride gives a confused look and then gets it right, after I got it wrong.  Sigh.

(5) Keep the gum.  I chew gum every waking moment of my life--I have terminal dry mouth and I hate it. Even when public speaking and with water available, I chew gum.  I'm pretty good at it and even though it's rather tacky, I chew it.  Well, for the ceremony I spit my gum out at the last minute.  I have no idea why, but I did. Bad idea.  My mouth was drier than the Mojave Desert. I couldn't have made spit if you paid me a million dollars.  So now, my glasses are slipping off, I can't see some of the words, I just made up jumbled vows and I can't enunciate words because I have not one drop of spit.

I am now terrified that I have a bunch of white gunk collecting in the corners of my mouth, distracting me further from my mission.

Gum.  Shoulda kept the gum.  Shoulda got new glasses.  Shoulda written down the name phonetically.

(6) Go with the original plan and demand the harpist sit in the front of the congregation, not way in the back. The Rolling Stones cover band gave us pause for thought.  While setting up, the harpist and I noticed that when the wind would blow, the band would be very loud and drown out the harp. (Even when the wind wasn't blowing, they were pretty loud.  Thank god they were good.)  The plan was to have her in the front, near me, with her amp facing the crowd.  She decided that it would be better if she stayed in the back and use her amp to shove her sound toward the event from the back.  Well, she went to the WAY back and I'm not sure anyone could hear her except for the people processing, as they had to walk right by her.  The rest of the time, not so much.  I announced, "and now we will have a moment of silent meditation to honor those who couldn't be here today..." and she starts playing Ave Maria, as scheduled.  The problem? All we could hear is "Can't get No Satisfaction" from the Stones cover band.  The bride starts laughing, the groom starts laughing, I start laughing.  After a minute, I decide enough is enough and I cut the meditation. The harpist can hear me but I can't see or hear her.  I just start talking even though I know she is not done. I'm sure she wasn't very entertained by being cut short on her solo.

Some things did go correctly and they still did get legally married, so that's gotta count for something.  The mother of the bride looked beautiful, the dad was bursting with pride, the bride looked amazing, the groom looks super-handsome (even through the dripping sweat--it's hard to wear a full suit, long sleeved shirt and vest in 90 degrees), no one passed out or puked.

As for the cover band?  They stopped playing literally the minute the wedding ended.  I kid you not.

Grist for the mill.  That's what yesterday was.  Grist for the mill.  Glasses, gum, names, grist.

I think the Bride and groom got a wedding they will never forget.  I know I won't.  I know I will think of them every time I hear the Rolling Stones......

....I just hope they don't make "Can't Get No Satisfaction" their new song.

Friday, September 06, 2013

We do, We did, We do it again?

For those of you keeping score in the gay marriage department (and, I know it's all three of you readers),  the wife and I have been contemplating the meaning of the Federal government's recent decisions as it relates to us. Since the Feds have announced they are going to recognize state-level gay marriages on the federal level, it begs the question of when to get married....

.......or, if to get married if there is no financial gain to be had.

Screw romance.  Show me the money.  We are too old to be worried about all that love nonsense.  We want to get married if it brings us financial gain.  Well, and because we can.  Money and ability.  Win-win.

(I wish I were kidding but I am not.  The first thing the wife said to me was, "will we benefit financially?")

When it comes to marriage, the wife and I are in no-man's land (no pun intended, but that's pretty funny).  Illinois has civil unions, not gay marriages. I've been talking aloud to myself a lot lately in regards to this topic.  Here's what I've had to say:

Me:  The wife and I are officially civilized in the Illinois fashion, meaning that the State recognizes us as a couple and taxes us as a couple.  Right?

Me too:  Right.

Me: Although the wife and I are civilized in the Illinois fashion, the Federal Government and my work place do not identify us as a couple, so they don't tax us as a couple nor are we afforded insurance or various benefits like the married straights are afforded.

Me Too: True.  Damned straight people.

Me: Now, now. Don't start with the "angry insurance" thinking and it's not straight people to blame.

Me Too: Well, it pisses me off.

Me:  Uh huh.

Me Too: Our delicious civil union is not considered a gay marriage anywhere; hence, when we go to Iowa, we are nothing.

Me: Well, we're something.  We're just not married.

Me Too: If someone married in Iowa comes to Illinois, their marriage is considered a civil union when in the Land of Lincoln, even though they are still married in Iowa.

Me: Yup. And, if we as flat-landers go to Iowa and get married, we are legally married in Iowa but not in Illinois.

Me too: Exactly.  But, if we go to Iowa and get married, then go to Minnesota, we are still married.


Me: Do we have to get divorced in Illinois before getting married in Iowa?

Me too: Huh.  I dunno.  If we don't get a divorce from our civil union but go ahead and get married in Iowa, are we bigamists? 

Me: What if we go to Iowa and get married, then come back to Illinois and then Illinois passes gay marriage, are we still married, double married or illegally married?

Me too: Wait.  Does this mean we will have our old "anniversary" date, a civil union date and a marriage date? And potentially a marriage-marriage date?

Me: Are there gifts involved?

Me too: No.

Me: When, then who cares?

Me too: I do.  I can't keep track of all these dates. I'm peri-menopausal.  I can barely remember whom I am talking to.

Me: So, if we wait and Illinois passes gay marriage in November, we will automatically be married?

Me too: No.

Me: No?

Me too: No.  We have a year to get a marriage license for free.  We remain civil unioned unless we take action to get a marriage license.

Me: Will civil unions remain in Illinois if gay marriage passes?

Me too: I guess so.  

Me: So, we could keep our civil union, be taxed as a couple in Illinois and taxed as single on the Federal level?
Me Too: I think so.

Me: If we get married in a State like Iowa or Minnesota, meaning we are then married in the eyes of the Federal government but NOT in they eyes of the State of Illinois, does my Illinois employer have to respect our marriage?

Me Too: I have no idea.  Probably not, the rat bastards.

Me: Soooo, maybe we wait until November, see what Illinois does and if Illinois doesn't pass gay marriage, we go to Iowa or Minnesota and get married.

Me Too: What are the benefits of hurrying to get married if it's not legal in Illinois and my employer won't honor the marriage, anyways?

Me: I'm still stuck on the do-we-need-a-civil-union-divorce thing.  

Me too: Did you know if we get married in Iowa and then need to get divorced, one or both of us have to live in Iowa for one year before we can legally get divorced?

Me: You're shitting me.

Me too:  I am not.

Me: That's ridiculous. I don't want to live in Iowa.

Me too: Well, I don't want to get divorced.

Me:  Maybe that would be good incentive to stayed married.

Me too: Works for me.

Me: The good thing about Iowa is that you can apply for a marriage license by marriage.

Me too: That's not very romantic.

Me: Do I have to remind you of how romantic it was of me to high-five the wife when getting the civil union license?

Me Too: True.  Mail order works for me.  

Me: We don't have to be a resident in Iowa or Minnesota to get married, so that's a good thing.

Me Too: Do we have to establish residency in Minnesota in order to get divorced?

Me: You getting divorced?

Me Too: One must consider all the options.

Me: We're not even married yet and you're divorcing me?

Me Too: Ummm, no.  

Me: We have to apply in person for a Minnesota license and then wait for five days.

Me too: We don't have time for that.

Me: So, we wait for Illinois and see what happens.

Me too: Agreed.

Me: Do we have a ceremony if that happens?

Me too: Do we have to?

Me: No.

Me too: Then, I say no.  

Me: It's really, really, really hard to wait until November.

Me Too: It's already September. You can make it.

Me: I will focus on football until November.  

Me Too: Perfect.  Football it is.

Me: Hey, speaking of which, if we get legally married in Iowa and we're civil unionized in Illinois, what are we when we go to Wisconsin?

Me Too: Cheeseheads.

Me: Married cheeseheads?

Me Too: No.

Me: Civilized cheeseheads?

Me Too: No.

Me: Heathen cheeseheads?
 
Me Too: Maybe.

Me: Illegal cheeseheads?

Me Too: Yes. 

Me: Football-loving cheeseheads?

Me too: Of course.

Me: Since we can't be married in Wisconsin and we can't get civilized there and as they don't recognize those kind of things anyways, we don't have to worry about getting divorced there.

Me too: Exactly.

And so, we will have to wait to see what Illinois does to learn what we will do. I am really lousy at waiting but I don't want to be non-married while living at home. In the mean time, I'm going to watch football, worry about my fantasy football teams and continue my research.  

Anyone know where I can get an "I'm a bigamist" t-shirt?  One can never be too prepared.