Do you suppose "old" is contagious? When I worked in elderly housing I had a joke with my administrative assistant that it was indeed contagious.
My husband calls me an "old soul." I'm not exactly sure what that means sometimes, but it sounds innocuous enough. First of all, my name is Virginia. Raise your hand if you've ever met a Virginia that wasn't old. Liar! :) Don't get me wrong....I love my name. I didn't always; at one point in my life I wished that I was a Jennifer or a Jessica. Anything that made me fit in. Now it is professional sounding and I'm named for my grandmother, who I lost too soon.
Second of all, all this knitting doesn't win any points in the youth department. Would-be scoffers like to tell me that knitting is for grandmas in rocking chairs. Sure, it is. But if I tell them that the youngest person in my knitting group is in her early twenties, and that it is "in fashion" and "hip to knit" usually all they hear is "Knitting Group" and "hip." Yup...using a word like "hip" is racking up the points...not showing my age at all! Let's try this: knitting is the new yoga!!
Then, this morning as I was dropping off the kids at daycare and heading to a doctor's appointment before work, I caught myself putting on lipstick. I rarely wear lipstick, usually because I'm kissing the boys or eating or something like that. But putting lipstick on to go to the doctor? Tres geriatric.
And the biggest one of all--a couple of weeks ago my friend Patrick was posting on Facebook about a big fire that was taking place in a city about thirty miles north of us. When I asked him the next week at knitting group (yes, he knits. And crochets. Gorgeous things, too) how he knew about it while it was happening, he said that he has an app on his phone that works as a police and fire scanner. I thought this was really intriguing! There's many nights while my husband is at school and the kids are in bed and I'm knitting in front of the TV and there's absolutely nothing on. Might be cool to listen to the scanner to what's going down in the Woo.....wait a minute. I've had tenants that sit and craft and listen to the scanner. And then they would call ME to tell me what was going on in town. Geez......all I'd need to do is start carrying splenda packets in my purse and ......WAIT!
Apparently, my transformation is complete. I am an eighty-year old woman, trapped in a thirty-something's body. Please direct me to the closest early bird special, and they'd better have decaf coffee. And I'm telling you up front....I fully intend on wrapping up my cookies in a napkin and taking them home for a late-night snack. And by late....I mean 7PM. Damn.