Welcome To My Mid-Life Crisis

Since turning forty, I've been deeply internalizing the aging process, and my conclusion is this.

Mostly? It stinks.

But it's OK. I've found something that can turn back time's cruel hands. It's safer than plastic surgery, cheaper than a new sports car, and less family-devastating than an old flame; assuming one has an old flame. I married my old flame, so he's also my current flame, and by the way, he's hotter than ever, but even he can't turn back the clock.

But youtube can.

The best thing about youtube is its ability to hit me with a flashback.

I discovered this a year ago when I read somewhere that one could find music videos from the early days of MTV on youtube. MTV was born the year I started high school and I spent many happy, if not completely wholesome hours watching it over the next few years. Then because of the gradual changes in both rock music and my tastes in such, I drifted away from MTV.

Last year though, I went to youtube and with a couple of clicks, was transported back to the early 1980's. They were all there - Loverboy... Def Leppard....Rick Springfield..... people I hadn't thought about in years.


Vintage MTV, some of the clips were called. That's so weird. I don't feel old enough for my generation's music to be called vintage.

Then again it's been 20+ years.
That's so weird.


But youtube took me back even farther.
While meandering down an online rabbit trail last week, I was reunited with "The Electric Company" the children's television show from the '70s. I hadn't seen this show in 30+ years, but elements of it were so deeply embedded in my brain that for the longest time, even as an adult, I couldn't watch Morgan Freeman in a movie without mentally singing .... "Easy Reader, THAT'S my name....".

After I watched the following clip and was able to stop laughing, I used it to prove to my kids that Mommy did in fact, grow up in the coolest decade ever; even if, when viewed retrospectively, her most famous reading teacher looks more like someone children should RUN from than learn from.

Watch and be amused, or perhaps slightly disturbed.




Is that heavy? I mean is that HEAVY?!?

So my mid-life crisis is manifesting itself by calling me back to my childhood through youtube.

It could be worse.

Adrenaline Has Run Rampant Here Lately.....

but now that the U.S. Open is over, things are getting back to normal.

Oh don't look at me, it wasn't MY adrenaline.
I don't know of anything more boring than watching golf on TV, unless it's actually playing golf, during which you can't really tune out and go to sleep.


The trouble is, nobody here agrees with me. In fact, last weekend I was the only person in this house NOT glued to the TV set during the U.S. Open. I had a nasty cold, and quite frankly the timing couldn't have been more convenient. I went to bed and listened to music while puttering around on the laptop. Periodically, I would hear cheers and moans from the living room. Now I realize that's appropriate football - watching behaviour, but is it really normal to be that into golf?


Keith actually summoned me from my sick bed once.

"Come here, you gotta see this replay!" he said.

So I took my 50-pound head into the living room in time to watch Tiger Woods putt the ball into the hole.

I was dumbfounded. "That's what I came in here for?"

He couldn't believe it didn't knock my socks off.

"Are you kidding? " he said. "That's a 60 - yard putt!"

But I still didn't get it. Not when you put everything into perspective. If, say, I made a 60 - yard putt, now that would be something to get excited about. But we were talking about a guy who plays golf for a living, who has devoted his whole life to perfecting his game, and who by the way, had won this tournament a dozen times or so already. Shouldn't we really be expecting 60 - yard putts from him?

I'll say it if nobody else will ...... If we're going to call this thing a sport, I think we need to raise the bar.

And anyway, why don't these guys have normal names? I mean, Tiger? Rocco? Boo?
What is UP with that?

I did finally get interested when we turned on the TV about 4:00pm Monday afternoon. Apparently the U. S. Open was still going on. The situation had called for a tiebreaker. We started watching at the 18th hole. AGAIN a tie. It was sudden death time. I couldn't believe it. For a few minutes there, I was actually on the edge of my seat watching GOLF.
Never in a million years would I have thought it.

I guess there's a first time for everything.

Summer Reading

" Mommy, I can't believe Jack came back! " Sissy sighed happily as I kissed her good-night.

I'm reading Little House On the Prairie to the girls. Last night Jack the brindle bulldog was given up for dead after the fording of the rain-swollen creek. We wanted to cry with Laura when she realized her dog was gone. OK I wanted to cry with her. The girls didn't actually take it as hard as I did.

But tonight when a tired and ragged Jack showed up at the campfire, there were gasps of delighted surprise on either side of me. I LOVE it when that happens.

And that Sissy was still talking about it when she went to bed is like the last sip of sugary coffee from the bottom of the cup. Rich, full, and so so sweet.

She's excited that Jack is back.

It's a beautiful thing to watch.