I Wanna Grow Up…

A Buddhist monk in New York City walks up to a hot dog vendor, hands him $20 and says, “Make me one with everything.”

The vendor pockets the money and hands the monk his frank. After a short while, the monk says politely, “My change?” The vendor smiles and says, “Change comes from within.”

Today is my nephew’s 18^th birthday. Whoa! I need to say that again. Today is my nephew’s 18^th birthday.

I can’t believe it. I remember when he was so little that he could fit into a large turkey pan and I – affectionately, of course – called him, “Oven stuffer roaster.” (My sister wasn't too pleased with that moniker, truth be told….)

I feel like I blinked and 18 years flew by.

Fast forwarding a bit, continuing the transformation begun when I got my hair styled for the first time in 2½ years, two weeks ago I got glasses. I look undeniably “hip” (C’mon folks, humor me here…) but as I take in my new look, a voice says, “You’re getting older.”

Sadly, I’m not yet at that age where I can say whatever I want to and everyone will have to find it charming…. Of late, however, I am more of a curmudgeon than I used to be, especially when watching television, which, it seems, I have less and less interest in each day.

And there’s that little voice again saying, “This is how old people act.”

I feel like I’m being bombarded from every direction with signs that I’m aging and in the immortal words of Peter Pan, “I don’t wanna grow up.”

But then I stop and think about all the exciting aspects of growing up:

·         I can eat dessert before dinner!

·         I don’t have to eat my veggies if I don’t want them (although that’s never happened…)!

·         I can stay up (and out) as late as I want to without breaking curfew!

·         No more homework!

 Y’know what? Growing up is okay. In fact, there are lots of things I like about it. 

My absolute favorite thing about growing up has been living on my own, by which, I mean with my husband. Despite the presence of more gray hair, less patience, more aches and pains and less resilience, in the past six years with Gary, I feel like I've gotten younger. So much so, that yesterday I fairly leapt out of bed at 5 AM to get Gary ready for an early morning on the job.

I don’t typically jump out of bed at “o’dark thirty,” but yesterday was special. At 5:05 AM autumn officially began. At 5:06 AM I celebrated the arrival of autumn by dragging out my slow cooker.

Change definitely comes from within. In my case, within my stomach, and it’s all good. 

Written for The Writers’ Post weekly blog hop # 15. Theme: “Changes”

See Change, Sea Change

I'm having some serious separation anxiety right now, but not because my children are leaving home. I don't have kids, which makes it harder to worry about them.
No, I'm having separation anxiety ... about my hair. Tomorrow afternoon, I'm scheduled to get my hair styled. I haven't had a significant cut now for almost three years. Any time a scissor has come near my head in the last 32 months, it's been to manage split ends, even out the bottom and the like. 
Next weekend, my husband and I are going on vacation with the rest of my family -- my mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law and my four nephews and niece and I'm thinking it's time to "kick it up a notch."
 The $64,000 question is just how far am I willing to go?
I recently saw a picture of myself from high school, at which time, I all but had a buzz cut. Not so flattering on a young girl.... When it comes to my hair, I've been at both ends of the spectrum.
When I started high school, I had hair down to my waist. That didn't work out so well either. I grew up in New York City and can remember being on the subway and trying to get out of my seat, only to find that I was pinned down. Why? When I sat down, I'd casually flipped my hair over the seat behind me; now the person in that seat was leaning back and in so doing, anchoring me down by my hair.
It's awkward to say to someone, "Pardon me? Can you lean forward to free up my hair so I can get off the train?"
These days I travel by car....

My hair, baby!

The irony for me about having long hair is that I'm forever putting it in ponytails, buns or a do-rag to get it out of my face. So wouldn't it just be easier to lop it all off? Odds are ....
But like an old shoe or pair of sweats, I've "grown comfortable in" my hair. 
What to do, what to do? And then there are all those "what ifs." What if the stylist mangles my locks? What if I end up with a poodle on my noodle that I hate? What if he decides that he knows what's best for me against my own better judgment? Help!

God bless the Internet. The answer to my questions/dilemma arrived by email the other day. The inspirational message featured uplifting quotes on embracing change including this one from British iconoclast Hazel Henderson, "If we can recognize that change and uncertainty are basic principles, we can greet the future and the transformation we are undergoing with the understanding that we do not know enough to be pessimistic."
So true. 
So, now, when I look in the mirror, I see change -- sea change -- and I'm embracing it.

**This was written for the BFF prompt Mirror Mirror**