How I Know I'm Getting Old...

In no particular order- and the fact that I really can't remember if I already did something like this should be number 1 (and if you have some of your own, please do so share)....

1.) I carry tissues with me at all times- either stuffed in pockets or hidden in my purse.

2.) I now listen to more talk radio than I do music.

3.) I worry about things like my gallbladder and colon.

4.) I make the conscious decision to pee before I bother walking all the way downstairs so I don't have to come up again.

5.) I'm starting to hear the words "I don't give an 'f***'" come out of my mouth more than "I hope I don't..."

6.) I'm really starting to not give an 'F***'

7.) I'm starting to know more married people than single.

8.) My college friends are having kids.

9.) Many old friends moved away and I have to re-learn how to make new friends.

10.) I've begun denying any grey hairs on my head (which there are none, thank you)

11.) I refer to anyone a year younger than me or more as "children".

12.) I'm ok with the idea of marriage.

13.) I'm starting to get ok with the idea of kids. Starting to.

14.) I signed up for a 401k plan.

15.) I now understand the simple pleasure of giving and receiving greeting cards.

16.) Things are starting to creak and crack.

17.) All the "youthful" imagery shown on television and in movies are referencing 22 year olds and younger.

18.) 22 seems so young.

19.) My distaste in current music and movies has continuously grown considerably.

20.) The term "old school" for me refers to things from the mid 80s to early 90s.

21.) I can't remember the last time I rode a bike.

22.) I looked at a recent photo of me and realized that's what the "grown-up" me looks like.

23.) I've been able to drink legally longer than I used to sneak it.

24.) I can cook.

25.) I'd like to buy a house.

26.) I am starting to look at makeup that fights and conceals wrinkles.

and lastly...

27.) I make lists.

What makes me still feel young? Simple:

Joe, the music I love, the friends and family I cherish, the passions I keep, writing, and still being able to get drunk off 2 beers.

The Freakin Firkin

Since my choices for television have been re-opened to me, I have found myself falling back into some of my old favorites, specifically, "American Pickers" and "Pawn Stars." I love these shows not just for their "reality" moments, but because they endear me to a small interest I have always held- antiques.

I haven't had many personal experiences when it comes to purchasing antiques, but my parents have. I seem to recall years back while on a family vacation to Maine when I actually saw my first real antique, courtesy of my mother.

My family and several of my mother's sisters and their families all went up to Maine for a week or two in the summer. One day my mom came back to our shared beach house after enjoying a nice afternoon with my aunts, and she carried something big, round, and wooden in her hands.

"What is that?", we all asked.

My mother, with a pleased smile on her face, replied, "It's a firkin!"

Of course, none of us had any idea what a firkin was, but my mom seemed very happy about it. She infomed us that she and her sisters had gone to an estate sale or auction, and had bought this odd heavy wooden bucket-thing. I still didn't understand what exactly it was and since it didn't really have anything to do with my oh-so important life, I shrugged it off and walked away.

My curiosity was still piqued, however, so when we actually got back to our real house I found myself looking it over again. I was able to make out some kind of painted floral and leaf pattern on the front and thought it did look pretty, especially set against the dark brown wood. Ok, so it looked nice, but what the hell was it for?

My mother tried to explain that in the old days it was basically just a utility bucket used in kitchens or around the house- which is exactly what it ended up doing for us. It helped us around the house by first being the deposit spot for firewood. However, as we were very loudly vocally reminded by my mom that it was an ANTIQUE now, and therefore retired from such hard labor, it spent its remaining days sitting on our stair steps collecting old magazines and toys. It was like setting up a assisted-living village in Sesame Place- not a very dignified end to such a magnificent piece.

We always remembered the "freakin firkin", as my father lovingly coined it whenever my mom hassled him about taking care of it. It might have seemed silly at the time, but my mom introduced me to the idea of obtaining a piece of history; of being able to place your hands on something that was once in the hands of someone from long ago. I always appreciated that, and still do.

As to the current whereabouts of the firkin today...I have no freakin idea.

Dog Day of Summer

Joe and I celebrated a very special anniversary this weekend. No, not our 8 years of dating- a year ago this weekend we adopted our plucky little dog, Georgia.

And being the hopeless sentimentalist, I wanted to do something extra special. So we stopped into PetsMart and bought her a nice new feminine (because I'm tired of correcting people when they ask us about "HIM") collar, a new bouncy ball toy, and even a big doggy-cinnamon roll-bone thing (complete with "icing" drizzle).

After that, Joe and I were both itching to get some outdoor exercise that we could include the puppy in, so we decided to go for a nice long walk through the Hunt Valley Trail.

It was more crowded than we expected, particularly with bicyclists. I can't remember the last time I sat on a bike, let alone go for a ride on one. It did look rather inviting. Georgia was fascinated by them as well, and proceeded to lunge at each one that passed by.

We took this as an opportunity to do some training with the "leave it" command. We put her back on a shorter leash and when we a bicyclist approached we gave her a stern command- "Leave it". If she lunged, we pulled her back and told her "No." Eventually, she began to understand that if she simply ignored the bikers, we praised her. I often do that alot in her training. She literally gets rewarded when she does nothing. Nice life, huh?

We were having a nice time when suddenly something else was approaching us- another dog. Joe, wanting to introduce Georgia to as many dogs as possible, was about to let Georgia greet the other dog when it's owner pulled it back and away. I shrugged it off; some people are either hesitant about other dogs or worried about their own dog wil react. Joe I think was a little more indignant.

"Well, that was uncalled for...", he said with a slight hurt look on his face. I patted his back and we kept walking with our socially jilted dog.

On the walk back we found ourselves coming up behind another dog, and again, the owners didn't seem too interested in letting the dogs meet. We kept our steady pace but eventually we caught up right behind them. It was kinda awkward- their dog kepts trying to turn around to see Georgia and Georgia was desperately trying to get ahead to meet it. I tried to purposely slow down so as to give the other people the hint to move along or move aside. Since they seemed uninterested in doing either, I did the only sensible thing....stopped and pretended to look at a flower.

Joe, of course, recognized and poked fun at my obvious action.

We finally got back to car, and after worrying senselessly about whether Georgia was exhausted or too hot, Joe turned around and said casually, "What's that on her head?"

I turned around too and as he looked closer we realized what that was- a tick. I immediately got squeamish but Joe simply hopped into the back, grabbed a tissue and got to work pulling the pest off her little head. It took a few seconds but it at last gave up the fight and Joe dropped the tissue outside.

It was a merry day had by all. Joe was relaxed from the fresh air, Georgia was tuckered from the excitement, and I spent the rest of the drive pulling at my skin and checking every itch to make sure I hadn't taken home a blood-sucking parasite of my own.

Merry Mechanics

My latest faux pas? Tempting a former alcoholic with beer. Yes, I gave away the ending already, but I have a feeling you might still read on.

I don't know if it's just me, but taking my car into a mechanic's is always a heart-pounding and anxiety-ridden event. My legs tingle, my feet twitch, my stomach feels upset...all because of one ostensibly routine chore.

I think it's because, like many of you I assume, I am a complete idiot when it comes to my car. I know how most of the features work (you know, all the key stuff like controlling the windows and sunroof. Other things, like how the 6-CD changer works is still a work in progress.) But when it comes to actual workings of my car, I'm pretty clueless, so if one of the mechanic's tells me my car is on the verge of total destruction because the F-top lubricator core injector thing-a-ma-bob is dented, I'm left standing there mouth agape and dumbly nodding.

But perhaps the even greater cause for my distress is the absolute mystery behind how much things cost to fix. I like to do research when I can about how much some things generally cost, like oil changes or tire rotations, but it always seems that by the time I am inside, the prices teeter-totter.

And being the cheap person I am, this is terrifying because you never REALLY know how much you are going to end up spending.

Fortunately, I have found a great reliable body shop who have always been so helpful and fair, offering me discounts whenever they could and don't make me feel like the "girls with their cars" stereotype. I usually have a conversation with whoever's working that day, and discovered on two accounts that this body shop sometimes accepts beer as a token of appreciation.

Well, I've always been appreciative but never had the beer on hand, so when I made my appointment for the next week to have my car's alignment checked out, I made a point to pick up a 12-pack.

On the day of, I kept going back and forth in my mind whether I ought to do the beer-thing. I had gotten the impression that that would really make their day, but still I worried that I might get in trouble for trying to serve alcohol to people on the job (is that even a law?) or be seen as trying to bribe them (which, in a way, I totally was- bribing them to take care of me and my car without hammering me with a massive bill).

I arrived and noticed the guy behind the counter was one I hadn't yet ever encountered. Plus there were other customers there. I decided to just leave the beer in my car and if I got a good vibe, tell him I'd be right back and present the liquid treasure.

I sat waiting and waiting, until finally they pulled my car inside and I was suddenly hit with anxiety and the onslaught of questions in my head- What if they find something reeeally wrong? What if it costs more than what I have? What if they need it for overnight? What if it's too expensive to fix...

I annoyed and freaked myself out so much that I practically jumped when he came back in.

"They redistributed your tire pressure. One was at only 13 lbs while another was on the brink of popping", he said. All in all, everything else looked good.

I was so relieved that I was going to walk out of there with less money spent than I feared and still getting something fixed that needed it.

I was so relieved in fact that I suddenly blurted out (in no graceful manner), "D'you accept alcoholic beverages as a 'thank you' by any chance?" I waited for a coy smile to appear but instead the man kept his eyes down and said, "As an alcoholic, no."

Crap me...

I apologized profusely but he smiled then and said, "Had you asked me 6 years ago, I would've said yes!"

Oh well, you can't win 'em all.

Crappy to Happy Birthday

Well well well, what a difference a few days make- had a couple of crappy days, then my bday rolled around, and I'm able to watch the ol' boob tube again. Well, kind of anyway.

Truth is, nothing really has changed. Since we don't have cable still, I am still not able to watch network television, with its commercials and continuous stream of content. And since we do have Netflix, I still have all the same shows I had before.

I guess the only difference really, is that I can now allow myself to really engage in the shows that I have been hearing so much about- Modern Family, Spartacus, Game of Thrones, etc.

But then again, some of these shows are not yet available on Netflix.

So, in a way, the challenge continues.

Meanwhile, I have helplessly entered my LATE 20s. I'm sure there will come a day where I will look back at this and yell at my words that I'm an idiot to complain, but until then, I'm still sad and a little upset. No longer can I use the excuse to be kid-like. I think once you hit the later part of your 20s you are expected to start acting like a real grown-up. Which really sucks. I hate being responsible; primarily because I'm not very good at it.

And finally, I was having a few crappy days all in a row last week, leading up to my birthday. Isn't it weird how you can experience a day that isn't the best but by the same standards, when it happens near your birthday, you feel the world is against you. It's like a healthy dose of reality and humility smacking you in the back of the head, saying, "It's not all about you!"

I guess the cornerstone of my bad days was the actual day before my birthday, Wednesday. I was driving up to a light when it turned yellow. Instinctively I stepped on my brake to slow down.

Suddenly I hear a blaring horn sounding off behind me. Some roid-raged freak is honking at me, presumably b/c I didn't choose to gun-it for the light.

Now, being the crappy old-lady driver that I am, I'm sorta used to the occasional honk which I just brush off. However, this guy was choosing to literally lean on his horn for the duration of the red light. My blood to began to boil and I could feel my cheeks reddening as bright as the light itself.

Finally, I hear the man yell out his window, "Where'd you learn how to drive c***!" Followed by another nice loud beep.

That was it. Who the hell did this guy think he was, talking to stranger like that? I could feel the rage in my fingertips and as the light changed I purposely idled at the light for a second, to which he replied by honking AGAIN.

God, even as I type this I have such an urge to find that asshole and smash his mailbox.

He finally dodged around me, and though I gave him the chin-flip off, it didn't nearly release the anger inside of me. And I think I know why-

For one, I can now think of 10 things I would've loved to have said if 1.) I had thought of them an 2.) Actually had the guts to say them. I also hate that people like that get away with acting like that, because they just drop a big pile of bad-day in your face and speed off.

Lastly, it infuriated me because there's no need for that. I would've gotten the message with "Where'd you learn how to drive"? I might have even been alright with a "bitch" placed in there.

But people like that ought to be sterilized. Anyway, if you want to read some of the things I wish I could've said to him, read on...

WARNING- These are things expressed in pure anger and should not be taken as an insult to anyone of you reading this.

1.) "Kiss/blow your boyfriend with that mouth?!"

2.) "I hope you get AIDS!"

3.) "Good luck with the sex change asshole!"

4.) "SORRY ABOUT YOUR DICK!!!"

The Living Year- The Final Countdown

Well, looks like I'm at the home stretch when it comes to this TV challenge of mine. I'm sure there are several friends and family that will be glad I will no longer be chained to my unchaining of television. And I do also realize and admit that in some aspects I might've cheated a touch with the whole Netflix thing (but hey, even addicts sometimes need something to help them wean off).

Still, the basics of the challenge were upheld- I watched no reruns of shows I used to watch obsessively, I watched no network or cable shows currently available, no commercials, and no aimless and pointless hours of just "watching whatever is on." These are things I still hope to not do (or at least do so much) however, there are some things I AM looking forward to once I rejoin the rest of the television viewing world-

1.) Soccer/football: And no, I'm not trying to be pretentious by covering both terms for the same sport. I really mean both soccer and football. Soccer, because I recently discovered my home team (or at least English adopted home team) Norwich City is back in the Premiere English league. They are huge underdogs and I always did enjoy catching a game or two, so now that they are in the major league I'll have an easier time of finding a place to watch their games.

Though I doubt I'll ever be what you call a "hard-core" fan of football, I still couldn't help getting all jazzed and excited when football season was abound, even without seeing any of the games. The attitude of the city seems so much more positive, especially when the Ravens do so well, and I really can't wait to join in the cheering and comradery, even if I don't know what's going on.

2.) Movie previews: This is one that I'm sure might be short-lived, but I can't help but miss seeing the newest movie trailers. Joe and I have been so cut-off that anytime we want to go to the movies we are really going in with absolutely no preconceived notions. I know after a while of seeing the same damn trailers I'll be glad to take another year off of TV, but for now, bring on all the Super 8 previews!

3.) Breaking news stories: I'm sure this could be said about all years, but this year really felt to be such a big news year and I was unable to see any of it in video form. Though I have garnered a new appreciation for the written and spoken word, there is still something to be said about the instance amazement provided by video clips. From the miners to Bin Laden and all the weather and natural disasters- it's been a year of words.

I'm sure there are other things that I will be glad to welcome back into my life, just as long as those things aren't Golden Girls and Friends marathons anymore.

Over the Wal-mart and Through the Depot...

So Memorial Day has passed, and all in all, it was a good one. Joe and I had some people over for a BBQ and we christened our new fire pit. And it really wasn't even a ton of work to put together...once we had everything we needed.

There was one little detail we had forgotten until the very day of the party- firewood. In order to actually use the fire pit we needed firewood, and of course, the quest to purchase some was fraught with hassle.

As I was cleaning things up Joe went out to get his last few grocery items and the firewood. He is gone for a good while and then returns saying the Home Depot was out. We really needed it, since the fire pit was one of the featured events for our party, but since he looked tired and sweaty (and since I needed a few more things anyway) I offered to drive up to our big mega-Walmart that also has a big gardening section while he continued to get things set up.

I drove up and, not shockingly, noticed the parking lot (which usually extends practically into the next town) was packed pretty well. Figures. But I was armed with my list and a fair idea of where everything should be. No problem.

I tried to see if I could find firewood on my own, but to no avail. So, I try to ask a helpful Wal-mart employee.

Now, at this point, I must make a plea to all Wal-mart employees- I am sorry if you don't like your job. I'm sorry if you are hungover and don't feel like being there. But for the love of God and the sake of civility, can you NOT run away every time I (or really, any customer, b/c I noticed this was an issue for other people as well) just want to ask a brief question about where something is. The store is the freaking size of an air craft carrier, and I'm bumbling around just looking for some Off!.

Anyway, I finally snag some help from a willing employee who explains they simply don't have it.

I then rush out to the Home Depot down the street, hopeful that this location will have the firewood. I barely walk in the door when I see the store greeter and immediately ask about the firewood.

"You know, I'm not sure we do, but let's find out." So she walks me over and after asking some of her fellow Home Depotcrats they inform me that they are also out.

I am about to walk out the door when the woman who initally greeted me pulled me aside and explained how she would be able to hook me up.

"Just take some from my house," she said, in a hushed tone, like she was selling me contraband.

I was very tempted. It was free and I'd be able to get it right away. However, my hopes were dashed as she began explaining all the hoops I'd have to jump through to get it.

"Go to Thornton Ave, and look for the last house on the left. You'll see some construction going on. Go up to the house. My daughter should be there. Her name is Cassie. Explain who you are and tell her I sent you. My name is Linda. Then go around the corner through my neighbor's yard, over the valley, through the woods, answer the bridge master's 3 questions, slay the Hydra..."

I thanked her for her help, but in the end I simply went to Valley View Farms and found a few bundles and paid for them. It was kind of her to offer, but in this instance, my laziness outweighed my cheapness. Besides, if I'm going to venture into stranger's yards, I better be drunk first.