Here's how I know I'm an old lady:

Wait, before I tell you how I know - I think that on my way to work, ALICE COOPER was in the car behind me! What what!? Who knew he lived in Cambridge and wore hoodies? I guess he's just a regular Dunkin' Donuts lovin' schmo*, like the rest of us...

Anyway, back to how I know I'm old. I went over to my Man's house yesterday for food and a movie and snuggling. We watched Road to Perdition, which I've seen before and I thought he'd like (he did). When the move was over, we had this conversation:

M: How would you feel about going to bed?**
Leslie: I'd feel pretty good about it. But you know it's like, 9:30, right?
M: No way. But I'm tired.
Leslie: getting up to check clock in kitchen Yeah, that's cool, I'm just saying it's early. I'll bet you a dollar it's only 9:30. checks clock WHOA. Yeah, it's early.
M: Why? What time is it?
Leslie: 8:36
M: Wanna watch another movie then?
Leslie: I think we'd better.

Yeah. So we watched Mallrats and THEN went to bed. Because there's going to bed early, and then there's hurry-up-it's-almost-4pm-Old-Country-Buffet-will-be-packed-for-dinner early...



*Is this how you spell "schmo"? It could be shmo or shmoe, but those look even weirder. Whatevs...

**This was not presented in a bow-chicka-wow-wow kind of way. I think he was yawning when he said it.

And it begins...

I will now* begin the delightful process of under-dressing for the March weather in anticipation of Spring. Let the shivering and griping commence!


*I've started by wearing flats without socks today. Who knows what kooky thing I'll do tomorrow!

Some thoughts: abbreviated because I’m writing them in between doing work. Because I do a lot of work. At work.

Mostly, the reason that I’m sad about not knowing where my future is going is because I hinge my idea of future success on things that depend on someone else to happen, and I feel like that means I’m taking things OUT of my control, and putting them into the hands of someone else. And really, I’ve never been good at trusting someone else’s hands.

I’ve had some extremely disappointing Dunkin’ Donuts experiences lately that lead me to the inevitable conclusion that their doughnuts (or donuts, if you prefer) just suck. I think the reason I never knew this before is because I’d never had real doughnuts made by a bakery. Now that I have, even the favorite doughnuts of my youth taste like crinkly, bland, overly dry crud. (Luckily, I live 2 blocks from a kick ass bakery.)(On second thought, that might not be so lucky.)

Despite the clearly superior special effects in the new trilogy of Star Wars movies I prefer the old ones because they are about the triumph of the moral underdog over a systematically oppressive force. The newer movies are about the shaping of a monster and henchman for that oppressive force. Plus, I hate JarJar Binks and his terrible, grammatically horrendous patois. I can still watch any of these movies pretty much any time, and I usually reach for one when I want to have the tv on if I’m sick or want to nap on the couch.

My penmanship leaves much to be desired. It is inconsistent. I’ve tried to discipline myself into better penmanship, but it’s harder than it sounds.

I am very grateful that as I’ve gotten old I understand that thee are some things I simply cannot wear, despite really liking them. Examples: purple-red lip products, shift dresses, empire-waisted anything. I’ve also accepted that my figure is my figure and I can work with it instead of trying to be something else.

I’m incredibly impatient and I want to be good at things immediately. This is why I will NEVER be able to play golf.

I have a bunch of projects that I want to start and finish, a bunch of books that I want to read, and several personal errands that will take time and preparation. The idea of all that in front of me is formidable and exhilarating.