Reality checks

You know how certain things remind you how old you are becoming, like browsing through you high school year book, realizing your children have lives of their own, looking in your closet and seeing a dress you’ve owned for a VERY long time and worn maybe three or four times.  (It is still in very good shape, practically new, so you can’t give it to Goodwill, besides…it just might come back in style.  Boy will you be ready.)


However, the one that really, really, really gets to me is this.  


Just a minute, I have to go to the podium.


Ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbors, kids and grand-kids.  Grandma is about to rant.


Age is ugly, age is inevitable, age only goes three places, either under the turf, or in a pretty little box or ornate urn; or maybe you’ll be lucky enough to blown across a mountain range, or across the green ocean. 


Do we need visual reminders that end is coming?


I don’t think so, that’s mean…Oscar the Grouch mean.


Hence the first paragraph above, so many subtle reminders.


I did not mention the one I dislike the most, so…here it is.  


You know when you go to a web-site and you come to the spot where they want you to fill in your age, and you click on the box, and a long, long, long, long string of years comes up?  I hate that….but, you must fill in the blanks otherwise you cannot continue.  So I faithfully fill them in.  August, not so bad; the third, even better; now…the year…I scroll, and scroll, and scroll. Where the heck is 1937?  I’m beginning to think it isn’t there.  Finally…there it is, ‘click’.  You should check your birth year some time to see how far down the list it is…I’m not joking, where it is in the list is scary.  Especially when you scroll down to the bottom to see what year is the last.  


Actually, I urge you not to do that, I just about fell out of my chair the other day when I did.  The year at the end was 1905, and that means next year it will be 1906, etc, etc.  So, taking this year as a bench mark, in 32 years, I’m going to fall off the end of the list.


AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


What an awful reminder the turf, tiny jar or box is only inches away; that dear friends and family is the meanest of mean.  Ugggggly.  I think I’m going to start a petition that these lists be permanently banned from web-sites.


In the meantime, I’m going to try to make the most of every year I have left, and make them all sorry they have that dreaded-last year-posted…just to spite them I think I’ll hang around as far beyond the point that the last year is 1937 as I can.  Yep, that’s the ticket…I’ll show them, I’ll show them.