What's Not to Laugh?

Almost everything about aging–except grave illness and death–can be funny as well as disturbing. I try to find the funny and help us all get through it!

Archive for the month “February, 2015”

My birthday…again?

I just celebrated a birthday, seemingly only a few months after the last one! Time is speeding up, and that’s just not fair. I still have people to meet, things to do, procrastinations to overcome…

Don’t misunderstand. I’m grateful for every birthday that comes along. “Consider the alternative” used to be a funny comment made to anyone who complained about how old they’re getting. It’s not so funny anymore. I get it. I’m glad to be here and be well (knock on wood) and have a wonderful family and lots of good friends. But how the hell did I get here so soon? I certainly don’t feel “old” like I thought my parents were at this age.

Now that I’m on a whirlwind journey to real old age, I might start thinking about what I want to do with the time I have left, whatever that is. I don’t have a bucket list, but maybe I should. I’m not very adventurous, so if I did have a list, it would bore most people to death. As much as I would love to see lions and tigers and giraffes up close (that is, closer than you can see twarpspeedhem at Brookfield Zoo), I don’t think a safari would be on my list, for many reasons—one of which is my discomfort with flying long distances.

This year for my birthday I was treated to a dinner by my daughter and son-in-law at one of my favorite restaurants and a lunch at another favorite place by seven of my dearest friends. My husband cooked a special dinner for me, although the fact that he cooks just about every night—and all his dinners are special—would not have made it a celebration, until he uncorked a bottle of champagne. That was special. He also took me out to dinner a few days after the occasion. A highlight on the day itself, was a phone call from my other daughter and twin grandsons. The boys sang the “Happy Birthday” song. I loved every second of it. Even my ex-husband called with birthday wishes. That’s a good life!

So why am I complaining? For one thing, it’s what I do well . But the real reason is that this warp speed of time going by is scaring me. I complain about the Chicago winter every year, but the good news is that it flies by. The bad news is that so does colorful spring, carefree summer, and pleasant fall. It’s all just going too fast, and I’m not sure I’m taking the time to absorb it.

I know I’m not alone in these reflections. I’d love to hear your thoughts…and even some of the items on your bucket list. Just click on “Leave a Comment” near the top of the page.

 

My pet peeves

Hi again. It’s Penelope. I liked the experience of blogging so much (or as much as I like anything) that I thought I’d do it again. This timPenelope_crop2e I’m going to point out the annoying things my owners do. Please don’t misunderstand. I have a good life with them, and I’m reasonably happy. But it could be so much better

if She would just call me Penelope and stop using those insipid cutesy names. All day long I hear, “Hi, Sweet Patootie!” or “Here’s my Lover Dover.” And there’s “Kitten Caboodle” and “Cutie Pie” and “Baby Girl.” Okay, I get it. She loves me and finds me adorable. That’s good, but for heaven’s sake, I’m an adult cat! Three-and-a-half years old (or thereabouts)! I don’t know what that is in people years, but it sure isn’t a baby or even a toddler. Let’s have some mature name-calling here.

if they would not go off and leave me at times during the day. I don’t mind it so much when one of them leaves, although I manage to have that forlorn look that makes the person leaving feel guilty. I’ve perfected it. But sometimes both of them are gone at the same time. For several hours. Do they even think about how I feel with nobody to play with? I have toys, sure, but they’re no fun without someone waving them in front of me or chasing me while I run after the laser dot.

if they wouldn’t go to bed at night just when I’m feeling most vigorous and playful. I try to make my feelings known by bouncing on and off the bed, catching pieces of blanket with my back claws as I go. But do they change their minds and get up to pay attention to me? Of course not.

if they would stop scolding me for scratching the furniture and rugs. This isn’t their first cat. They must know that a cat has needs, and one of them is to sharpen those claws wherever and whenever. Besides, I rarely make any holes in the upholstery. Or pull up threads in the rug. And I think the “you have a cat, don’t you?” decor is trending.

My owners are not young, so teaching them new tricks may be a lost cause. Plan B is to be so loveable and charming that they can’t bear to leave me and will eagerly devote their days (and nights) to my needs. I think I have a chance.

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