Dear AARP…

I realize it’s a very exciting time for you right now … all those gazillions of baby boomers moving into their golden years. I see you’ve even got “baby boomers” in your tag line now:

AARP: Health, Travel, Baby Boomers, blah, blah, blah

The “As Seen on TV” folks are having a ball too. Does the entire world now require fiber to stay regular, life insurance that we CANNOT BE TURNED DOWN for, and/or a hearing aid disguised as a bluetooth earpiece? Noooo, just that gigantic portion of the population now greying, and I hear you cackling with glee.

But honestly. Do you need to send me junk mail/promotional literature every. single. week? Just how many shiny plastic personalized promotional AARP cards do you think I need?

Really. I’m just not ready yet. I need a little more time.

I’d like to pretend for just a little while longer that I am still hip and happenin’. I’m not really dying for those senior discounts at MacDonald’s – I’d rather I got carded. I’m still blaming my poor memory on flightiness, rather than Alzheimers.

I’m not interested in group life insurance, retiring, moving to Florida, or learning to play canasta, not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m much too busy washing the cats. Next week, it’s very likely that I’ll still be uninterested. And the week after isn’t looking much better.

So your constant invitations, reminding me of my advanced age, are serving no purpose other than killing trees, and amusing the postwoman. And now that the Boy’s moved out, he’s not even around to give me a hard time about them when they arrive.

So save the trees, and take me off the list. Come back in 10 years or so. We’ll talk then.

And keep those kids out of my yard!

Yours, etc,


on walruses and feathers


We need new pillows. In the worst way.

We have two sets of pillows currently in rotation. We spent a considerable amount of time yesterday evening in serious discussion of how best to describe them and finally came to consensus.

One is like sleeping on a walrus.

The other is like sleeping on a spit-filled sack of feathers.

Now. Aren’t you glad I chose the picture of the walrus? 🙂

bah, humbug

Feeling uncharacteristically cranky about Christmas. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to indulge in a little temper tantrum here about Christmas.

Because I can.

I’m starting to hate Christmas, even though it’s always had such lovely things to say about me.

It all starts with Black Friday. Actually, it starts BEFORE Black Friday with all the commercials and advertisements exhorting me to buy more things that nobody needs OR wants. Driving back from the Cape at 8pm on Thanksgiving night, we had to stop in Wrentham for a bio-break. Wrentham’s big claim to fame in this parts is the fact that it is home to that most sacred of shopping meccas, an outlet mall. As we pulled in to a convenient gas station, we noticed that there were lights, and security, and traffic, and all sorts of hoo-ha. Signs announcing the parking lot for the mall would be open at 11pm for their Midnight Madness sale.


We get home, and later that night, mistakenly turn on the 11pm news… FULL of coverage of the start of Black Friday. Oh my God. Don’t people have anything better to do?

Later on Friday, I learn that a Walmart employee somewhere has been trampled and killed by over-enthusiastic shoppers breaking down the doors. Why? WHY? So they could be first in line for a Tickle Me Elmo?!?

Now, for the next 4 weeks, even going to the grocery store is going to be an endurance contest.

And you can forget about trying to go anywhere else. Everywhere will be packed to the gills with frantic shoppers trying to prove their love by buying the latest and greatest must-have as determined by savvy marketeers.

Even Christmas trees are making me cranky. Mainly because I can’t decide whether it is more politically correct to kill a tree or buy a fake one. Whichever one I do, someone is sure to make me feel bad about it.

The Christmas decorations are way the hell out in the barn … SOMEWHERE. I made a desultory attempt to find them yesterday but grew weary of the effort about 5 minutes in.

It’s all just too, too much to bear, and I’m considering sleeping through the next month. Wake me when it’s 2009.

I do like Christmas cookies though….