humor

One is Silver and the Other is…Old

“When you’re a kid, age matters a lot,” Babs, my mom, said the other day. We were lounging on her living room sofa killing time before her friends, Dick and Fern, came over for dinner.

Hang on. What’s that? You think I’m lying about their names being Dick and Fern? Would I lie about something like that? Babs even gave me permission to use their real names in this post! (Then again, Babs also gave me permission to paint my aunt’s house as a surprise gift…)

Dick and Fern have been friends with my parents since before bottled water was a thing.

Dick-and-Fern-timeline

“You know. If you’re seven and the neighbors are ten it’s a huge deal,” Babs went on. “Then you get into your 20s and it really doesn’t matter at all.”

She took a gulp of wine.

“Then it starts to matter again.”

She paused and gave me a look.

Hmmm.  Not good.
You know the look.

“Dick and Fern are a few years older than us so they’re in their 70s now,” Babs said. “And just look at this.” She whipped out her phone and showed me the text message that Fern had just sent.

Fern-text

“Late because of rain! At least she finally got a smart phone this year,” Babs went on. “Before that she was doing the texting where you had to hit the number keys over and over!”

I didn’t have the heart to remind Babs how recent her own memorable smart phone purchase was.

“Yeah,” I replied. “It also seems like there’s get-off-my-lawn-seventy and I-AM-JUST-GETTING-STARTED-B*TCH-SEVENTY.”

go-jules-go-old-vs-young-phones

This, of course, got me thinking of my own friendships. Had there ever been an age gap that suddenly became too pronounced? Is there ever a “cut off” when you can no longer relate, whether it’s on a surface level with cultural references, or emotionally based on various life stages?

Go-Jules-Go-2018-dream-birthday-Darren-Criss-1
What I’m really trying to ask is: Do I need to stop talking about Darren Criss?

So far, at 36, age has never been an issue in my friendships, though it’s still certainly bittersweet when they fade for other reasons: Distance, difference of opinion, or interests in chipmunks and priorities that no longer align.

My advice to Babs? Might as well stick it out. At least you’ll get to tell your favorite stories over and over.

As long as it’s not raining, that is.

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Just For Fun, PSAs

Thank Your Lucky Charms: I’m Hosting My First Guest Post!

Well. Chipmunks. Well well well. I promised you a guest post from my best friend, Jenn, this week, and she has begrudgingly graciously obliged.

The thing is, she owes me. It’s a long story.

You’re in for a treat.

Which I hope is clear based on the fact that this is my first guest post in a year and a half of blogging.

No pressure, Jenn!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As all you fabulous and wise Go Jules Go readers are aware, I am the lucky soul who gets to call herself Jules’ real-life BFF, as well as her heart’s — or at least her liver’s — inspiration.  You wonderfully literate folks also recently learned that last Tuesday was my birthday.

When I’m not busy reading flattering blog posts penned in my honor, I like to think of my birthday as infrequently as possible.  Way less than annually.  Every four years like the Olympics actually sounds too frequent.

Like a double chin dented by the rubber band on a party hat, birthdays over a “certain age” remind us that, although the cake is gone, the scars remain.  The buoyant charm of youth faded long ago, but the birthdays keep coming.  Like Groundhog Day, with epsom salt.

I still recall (who knows for how much longer) the days when I’d carouse for hours, stumble to bed at dawn, and then pop up at the alarm, ready to start another glorious day of being young.  These days, mornings at my house sound like a wounded herd on the move.  A herd that knows its way around childproof caps.

I didn’t always hate birthdays.  Once upon a time, nothing pleased me more than getting another year older.

It’s like she just saw her first pair of mustache glasses.

As an old man once said, youth is wasted on the wrong people.

These days… let me not mince words.  These days, I hold birthdays right up there with fungal infections and rectal exams.  Both of which, you’ll be tickled to hear, multiply exponentially with — you guessed it — birthdays.  Sigh.

While I still have my faculties, let me leave you with a final thought on the aging process.  The more birthdays we have, the more we realize that we travel from cradle to grave at a breakneck pace, and not all our body parts will cross the finish line.  So enjoy your kidneys and your knees and your ability to sleep through the night while you can.

And live each day as if it’s not your birthday, my friend.  Because time is one big Donner party, and you are magically delicious.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

How do you cope with birthdays/the aging process?  And how much do you love Jenn? (Well, just forget it. She’s mine.)

Chipmunks Forever, Uncategorized

My Life Coaches Prep Me for the Big 3-0

It’s been a while since I’ve updated you on the whereabouts of my life coaches, Zest and Zeal.

You might recall their infamous post-Christmas shenanigans. I’ve since moved the vodka to a higher shelf in the freezer, and confiscated the handcuffs. Nevertheless, old habits die hard…

In fact, it would appear they’ve even started having secret meetings. I fear a cult is forming, and these young recruits will soon do their bidding.

This can't be good.
Nothing to see here, Jules...
For Champagne's sake, Zest and Zeal, not the children, too!

Despite their unsavory reputation, I find myself turning to Zest and Zeal for advice. You see, something terrible is about to happen. And I can’t stop it. It’s almost as terrible as when someone tells you “you have a pretty face” or when I learned you can’t legally buy Kinder Surprise eggs in the United States.

I’m about to…

…Well, you see…

It’s just that…

Dangnabbit. I’m turning 30 in 3 weeks!!! And I don’t like it one bit. So, with an old, decrepit and heavy heart, I sought out Zest and Zeal last night. The conversation went a little something like this:

Me: Guys, I just don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

Zeal: Here, have another drink.

Me: F&*%. How’d you get my vodka?

Zest (glancing nervously at Zeal): You know, Jules, you’d look really good with green hair.

Me: Ha ha. Thanks for bringing that up. Thanks a lot. You’re supposed to be making me feel better.

Zest: Um…Second Husband? Glee? Champagne? Cats dressed like Easter bunnies? Titanic in 3D?

Me (starting to smile, then frowning): But won’t I be too old for all of that? 30-year-old women aren’t supposed to eat animal crackers just because they come in a cute little box with a string. And I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have a Jersey Shore wall calendar in the kitchen. And, oh god. I bet the next time I go to the MAC make-up counter they’re going to call me ma’am.

Zeal (hiding the vodka behind his back): Jules. Jules, Jules, Jules… On the road of life, there are many winding, um… roads.

Me: Shut up.

Zeal: I wasn’t finished. (takes deep breath) There are many winding roads, and you need to learn to…um…put on the brakes and stop and smell the…deer…poop.

Me: I hate you.

Zeal: Why don’t we just SHOW you how good life after 30 can be?

Me (narrowing eyes): The last time you said you wanted to show me something, it involved a bb gun and Kate Gosselin wigs.

Zeal: You said you liked it!

Me: I was…just trying to be…polite…

Zeal: Listen. Do you want our help or not?

Zest: Isn’t he as cute as a peanut when he’s frustrated?

Me (muttering): …I’m going to regret this, but… Fine. Show me.

Zest: There's always retail therapy. DSW Shoe Warehouse doesn't care HOW old you are. They'll still take your money. Trust me. I know. I've taken your money there lots of times.
Zeal: You're old enough now that you can drink vast quantities, I mean, higher qualities, without winding up here. And when your friends' kids get married? Oh boy. They'll be disappointed if you don't sidle up to the open bar and then insist on dancing with all their friends.
Zest: I'm PRETTY sure by the time you're 40, polygamous relationships will be legal in New Jersey.
Zeal: That reminds me, I think in another 10 years, you'll be able to grow a lot more than soy beans in this windowsill...
Zest and Zeal: Plenty of things get better with age, Jules. Including you.

Me: Gosh. Thanks, guys. I actually do feel better now. …Zest? Zeal? Where’d you go? Aw, crud. I’m getting too old for this sh*t.

Have you ever gotten any good (or bad) advice about getting older? How do you cope with the aging process?