39 is the new 70

I am getting older but we are all getting older, right? It's not just me. Actually, I've been pretty excited by the fact that I'll turn 40 in the fall.  That's not to say that I haven't noticed certain age-related changes in my appearance. There are a few more wrinkles around my eyes and, of course, there is the hair. Hair Close-upI've been going gray since I was 20, so, it is not necessarily something that I associate with impending middle age. Sure, sometimes, I get tired of old ladies coveting my hair color and style and would love to have one cute baby dyke notice instead but, it's not going to happen. So, I have started flirting with an older demographic.

knittingI have also noticed a few changes in my hobbies, though, it is rather silly to make assumptions about the ages of knitters. I mean...it's sort of hip to knit right now. Knitting is no longer your grandmother's hobby. I think that honor is reserved for macrame or shuffleboard. Of course, I used to love shuffleboard as a little girl so maybe shuffleboard is also timeless. Macrame...definitely...macrame is an old woman's hobby.

Despite the knitting and a heightened awareness of my fiber intake, there are a lot of things about me that are youthful. For example, peeps. Peeps make me youthful (well, the chemicals and preservatives in the peeps themselves might be partially responsible for that). Also, I played Guitar Hero a couple of weeks ago. Nothing says "young" like rockin' out to Slow Ride on a video game. Well, except for the fact that I just used the phrase "rockin' out" and "Slow Ride" in the same sentence. Still, my point is that I am a spry 39 year old. Or, I was.

I went to the eye doctor last week and received the following prescription:

PrescriptionYes, I am getting bifocals. I walked into that office 39 and walked out a 70. As if this is not evidence enough, I couldn't find my car in the parking garage after leaving my appointment. I could not remember where I parked, despite several minutes of puzzling. So, I had to start at the top of the parking garage (on the 9th floor) and walk down, punching the little button on my car remote, hoping to hear a honk that would lead me to my car. I did finally find my car and, when I got in to drive home, I half expected that I would no longer be able to operate my iPod because, well, I can't keep up with you young'uns and your gadgets...