Monday, April 02, 2007

I'm too young to be this old

Remember when you're twenty and thirty seems like the edge of a cliff? Of course now Sheryl Crow has decreed that forty is the new thirty, so I have some reprive.

I'm thirty-three. As of yesterday. I went and saw the family, took my grandmother some flowers (her b-day is two days before mine). My mother gave me a stick. Ok, it was a little condiment spreader made of cherry wood. I love wooden kitchen utensils. There's something very tactilely pleasing about them.

My sweetie asked what I wanted for my birthday, and I said "clothes," so he graciously allowed me to drag him to a half-dozen stores over the weekend. I tried on a score of garments and bought nothing. This is not a good fashion season for me. Everything is high-wasted, blousy, droopy. I have a waist. I prefer to be tailored. I do not intend to have children, so why would I want to look pregnant?

Lately, I've had a yen for a 50's-style cocktail dress or sun dress; fitted bodice, full skirt. I was considering making one, but Trashy Diva has some lovely things. The trick is buying one to fit. My shoulders are rather broad from the tai chi training; my hips are a size or two smaller than my upper body. This means I have to take in every shirt and jacket that I buy, and forget about finding a dress off-the-rack.

I told the SP it didn't matter. I've gotten pretty much everything I ever wished for in the last year. When I make wishes now I just hope for things to stay as they are.

With less plaster dust, of course.

P.S.--We got all the drywall done this weekend. Sometime this week we're going to tape and mud. Hope the weather dries out a bit.


AJM said...

Well, happy belated birthday. Sorry I missed this, earlier. Hadda be pretty spotty about blogging, last little while.

Anonymous said...

Thirty-three, eh? Another four months, you'll be a third of a century old. Another six years, you'll catch up with me.

There is an article in the April National Geographic titled "End of the Line." It concerns the decline of cod fishing off the coasts of Newfoundland. I don't think any plagiarism is involved.

Holly said...

ajm, thanks and you are forgiven. Blogging is near the bottom of my priorities list these days, as well.

>There is an article in the April National Geographic titled "End of the Line."

I, too, did a recent search for that title. It shows up a lot. I had some misgivings about naming my story that, initially, because of the potential for triteness and eye-rolling, but when you read the story it "transcends the literal" and becomes very appropriate. Cliche or homage? The reader will decide.

Shara said...

Sheryl Crow has decreed that forty is the new thirty

I really should send Sheryl Crow flowers or something for that.


Anonymous said...

"Everybody knew it was the end of the line for Big John."
-from "Big Bad John" as sung by Jimmy Dean in 1961.

I wasn't particularly researching titles the other day. While I was browsing my National Geographic, the title reached out and punched me in the snout.

"I do not intend to have children."
You are free, white, and thirty-three, so I figure you are answerable to nobody concerning that decision.

I notice that one of the presidential candidates is named after your cat.