Author: Karebare42@aol.com

I am so sorry if I offended you.  I am so sorry if we are walking into each other.  So sorry if I parked perfectly and you didn’t.  Must be my fault.  No, none of that applies to me.  Sorry/not sorry.  For some reason my Boomlennial peeps keep apologizing.  For nothing.  The wrongs of the world are not your fault.  Yesterday I went to church with a Manfriend because I am that wonderful.  Sorry/not sorry.  As we were pulling into the lot this huge pickup truck was parked terribly taking up two spaces and hanging out into the drive so everyone had to maneuver around him.  Yes, it had to be a man.  Little man probably.  Sorry/not sorry.  Throwing everyone off a bit.  So Manfriend parks and we get out and examine how we faired and were pretty askew but kind of the norm.  (Sorry/sorry).  The lady next to us parks perfectly and comes over sorrying sorrying saying small man truck messed her up.  It didn’t.  She was just at that age where the world seems to do everything right and for some reason what isn’t right is your fault.  I see it again and again and always want to yell Knock It Off but then I might be truly sorry/not sorry.  Which leads me to a totally unrelated topic except that I was deep thinking about it in said church when I should have been paying more attention.  Some attention.  Color your gray hair.  Is that too much to ask?  Nice looking woman, cute outfit, ugly hair.  Just such an easy fix.  Losing weight haaaaard.  Growing two inches also hard.  Box of Nice and Easy?  Nice and easy.  That natural look is not good.  Be a peacock.  Slap on some bright lipstick.  Fan your feathers.  Maybe gray is a way to fade into the shadows so you don’t get noticed.  And be sorry about everything.  Maybe I should have paid more attention in church so I wouldn’t have to be so shallow and trivial.  As if that’s a bad thing.  Sorry.

I’m starting to realize that all my Boomlennial peeps have run out of words of wisdom and oh-so-fascinating stories.  Too much energy this summer has been spent on listening to a rehashing of people’s lives that weren’t that interesting the first go round.  Let us reminisce!  Let us retell those great (huh??) stories from the past that weren’t really those glory days to start with.  I know everyone’s lives take different paths so when you get together it’s fun/creepy to go back to what you had in common.  I like to think, however, that in those fifty odd years where we haven’t been in touch SOMETHING sponge worthy must have happened #Seinfeld.  (Google it).  I’ve always hated to reminisce. (BTW that word is really hard to spell and even auto-correct doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about.).  I like to think that I always have stuff going on today or tomorrow that hopefully is a better story than that old sh*t.  And if those stories still fire you up dear-oh-dear that is a problem.  One of my wee dearests was facing a change in his life.  He was processing it in his own way and probably making more sense of the situation then the big people.  But we kept yak yaking about it and thought we were cagey enough that he wasn’t really paying attention to our conversation.  Finally, wee one says “we don’t need to be talking about the past”.  Brilliant!  I couldn’t have said it better myself.  And I’m always sure I could have.  He was moving on.  Just like that.  We big people looked at each other, smiled, and that was that.  Done.  Saved us endless angst filled conversations for no apparent reason.  Now I need to prophesise this new age thinking to my Boomlennial brethren.  Wonder if they are going to story time at the public library?  Maybe they should. And perhaps take out a current book.  And read it. And talk about it.  Has to be more intersting then that great mullet they had…..

Since I’m not into naming names, I’ve resorted to Pig Latin, or igPay atinLay.  Any good Boomlennial is fluent in this language, or at least has picked around the edges.  I could write a whole missive with it but the auto correct is already doing me in.  When my bebes were little and starting to spell, I had to find another form of communication to talk about other people.  Not that I would ever do that of course.  Weirdly my dearest and I could actually speak this awesome language.  Or enough to realize how creepy it was and stop already.  So back to Ponderings from Aulpay.  Divert daily.  Wander weekly.  Meander monthly.  Abandon annually.  I like!!  Sometimes we just need to get out of our head and out of our space.  Ruts are easy to flop into and without a good plan to get out it becomes home.  Comfortable.  Closed in.  Dark.  Boring.  And that my friends is a word we’ve got to nix.  A life we’ve got to adjust.  This past month has been filled with the slow demise of way too many people.  And not getting better.  Yesterday was a new experience for me and I tried to think it was a good idea but it wasn’t.  A friend had his own funeral/celebration of life.  And he was there.  And his family. And people were arriving with balloons pointing up and buying drinks for each other and trying to be festive I guess.  It was not festive.  Of course then the stories started flowing with the beer about surgeries, cancer, who is next, just loads of fun and games.  I’m not there yet.  Those are not conversations I’m ready to banter about at a gathering of any kind.  Death is not funny.  Illness is not funny.  I had the feeling that the ‘organizing commitee’ had just come from the PTA bake sale and was relishing in how wonderfully they were orchestrating this non-event.  They were probably far enough removed from the situation to not have that horrible feeling in their gut.  Let’s cut the cake!  Let’s take up a collection!  Party time!  Fortunately, my companion was feeling the same way so we left.  I’m done.  I Choose to find the young in spirit to fill my life.  I Choose to find things everyday that get me out of my head.  I Choose to have a new experience weekly that makes me go hmmm.   I Choose to meander monthly just because I love the word meander and want to use it in conversation.  One can never have too many vacays because it just dusts you off.   And gives you something  to talk about that has to be more interesting then disease and pestilence.  Enough aidsay.

Last week I was at a very lovely outdoor party and got into an oh-so-serious discussion about an oh-so-relevant topic.  Yep, straws.  We’ve come to this.  Paper vs. plastic.  Rounded the corner on the grocery bags and finally settled on plastic or bring your owns, an announcement to the world that you are quite environmentally conscientious and probably just shop for your cat(s).  But now straws are the problem-oh-the-day.  Or as I like to say RPP.  Rich People Problems.  Similar to trash, we live in a country where people care too much about the logistics of garbage. What to do, what to do? This container, that container.  What goes where and why.  Think think.  My Manfriend even had the audacity to tell me I needed to break down my endless supply of small Prime boxes and risk breaking a nail.  He knows me better then that geesh.  Give me strength.  I don’t give a sh*t about sh*t.  RPP.  I recycle(ish). When I’m not busy and my trash bag is full.  When I’m done contemplating life and need to refocus on something totally mundane.  Zoos are the worst.  They have four different receptacles in which to dispose of your lunch.  And no straws allowed whatsoever.  Makes total sense to me of course, great for small children.  Right.  In many countries, especially the ones with way too many people, they aren’t very serious about garbage.  If there is a drainage ditch behind their house they think they have a bathroom.  When you’re struggling to survive the priority list is a bit different.  The ocean carries all that garbage away away which at the time makes perfect sense.  To people who have real problems.  Paper straws are not good.  They turn to mush and become unusable very quickly.  So then you get another and another and another.  More trash.  At the lovely party, one Person Of Interest received a metal straw from a friend.  With a case.  That you were supposed to carry around with you and reuse.  Dirty.  Enough said.  RPP.  I may or may not have laughed, shook my head, rolled my eyes.  All not too subtle gestures that I’m prone to do.  Somehow, I don’t think that’s the solution.  And it hurt my teeth to even think about.  This brilliant Boomlennial predicts we’ll paper straw for awhile, remember they suck, and go back to plastic.  End of discussion.  Not talk or blogue worthy.  RPP.  Be grateful.

This hot summer has dulled me a bit I fear and sure can’t let that happen. Yet. I’ve taken enough walks on the mild side so was trying to spice things up a bit in a very unwild way.  Let’s not go crazy here.  So I went to see Jurassic World and really liked it!  What’s not to like about big, amazing creatures that can have very interesting personalities.  And eat people.  Ahhhh to be an adolescent boy again. (For all you millions of followers I’m not announcing anything that wild here.)  I’ve seen a lot of movies this year which have been quite good.  And quite adult.  And slowwwww.  And made me think.  What’s with that?  Time for a change.  Going ‘out’ to see a movie was always kind of tricky.  The whole dinner/movie evening was just never a good idea. Dinner first, sleep through the late movie.  Movie first, struggle to see my watch in the dark wanting the movie to end so I could go to dinner #drink.  So the occasional movie I saw had to be a ‘must see’ and I think I just got bad advice.  Most award winners were bizarre, or trying too hard, and sometimes just sucky to this brilliant Boomlennial.  Now, however, I’ve mastered the perfect movie nightish.  That late matinee followed by #drinks and dinner is the way to go.  You get those senior ugh matinee prices, the theater is fairly empty, and you can be entertained with all kinds of random sh*t.  No high expectations.  Enjoy!  Soon the summmer blockbusters will be gone (and what does that word blockbuster refer to anyway???) and the more serious subjects of the deep, dark winter will be upon us.  (That was quite a dramatic sentence.  I do have electricity and heat geesh.  Settle down.)  For now, however, I’m going to expand my genre of movies and hope I don’t start playing video games next.  Or get zits.  Oops, still have those.  Better tread lightly here and simmer that young spirit animal down a bit.  Whoa Nelly.  Do they still make Westerns?  Now that would be ‘must see’.  Bonanza in 3-D hmmm….

I just returned from vacay and never felt so accomplished.  I finally did the deed and can now talk freely about it without remorse.  Gratitude actually.  I did absolutely nothing and that’s ok.  Grandiose even! All my vacations (I use that term loosely) as a child involved one day trips riding coasters or biking around an island looking for another winery.  As an adult, I can still get into that but have always had A Plan.  And many layers within The Plan.  A beach was always my go to, but needed snorkeling or fishing or horses or throwing up in helicopters to make sure I got the whole experience.  Camping and fishing trips were fun until I realized the ground is fricken hard and ended up with more bruises than actual fish.  And who wants to clean and/or eat those smelly things anyway?  So this Bomlennial has given up themed vacays for now, and really did enjoy doing nothing as A PLAN.  Of course one must have a pool and someone serving adult beverages or that would just be a SILLY PLAN.  It’s ok to do nothing(ish).  Walking is fine until you call it hiking and that has to stop.  Pleasant to be on a boat or near a body of water as long as it involves soaking up the ambiance instead of too much water up the nose.  I used to laugh at the people in my childhood hood (will fix that later) who used to just sit in their garages on folding lawn chairs and do nothing.  Or stare at neighbors waiting for something  intersting to happen.  It didn’t.  And yes I would still laugh at them but they are mostly dead and that’s not really a laughing matter, but sitting was an activity to them.  And doing nothing.  I can seldom just do one mindless thing.  I can watch TV, but also have to read a magazine or paper or look at my phone speaking of absolute mindlessness.  So I guess it’s ok to have a week of doing nothing but enjoying my peeps and not worrying about A Plan.  However, I’d really like to go white water rafting.  And my knee hurts.  And I don’t have any bruises whaaaaa.  And just what is at the top of that mountain hmmmmmm.

…..eyes in the back of your head.  I was watching a Person Of Interest backing up a cherry red Bentley into a huge parking space and it was a no go.  Hilarious.  I thought he was purposely trying to take up two spots for ahole reasons, but no.  He got out and mumbled ‘not even close’ and started up once again.  My MF and I just stared in awe.  I may or may not have laughed.  We know the POI so it was ok.  I think.  What was funny/not funny is I do that on a daily basis.  Sober.  I can’t back up.  Dang.  I have cameras and pictures and traffic light colors and bells and whistles and uglier sounds all for naught.  On the line, off the driveway, in the grass, lost in embarrassment even when alone.  Over the years, my garage has taken the brunt of it, followed by mirror(s), mailboxes, tires, curbs, dignity.  I like to think there’s an evolutionary reason for this and I’m on a much higher plane where this skill set is deemed unnecessary.  Huh?  (Sleep on it.)  I even have tricks.  I turn the radio off.  Open the windows.  Decide between watching the camera, mirrors, or just neck aerobics.   All for show, no go.  Once I lost my hearing for a few weeks and someone should have taken my keys away.  (Advice time…..don’t fly when you are sick.  The ear drums don’t respond well.  Of course the other passengers don’t mind a bit).  Say what?  What??  I can’t heeeeear yoooooo.  Anyway, because I couldn’t hear I also couldn’t judge distance and backed right into another car.  Yes that still makes sense to me.  And because no one in the Target parking lot saw it (please don’t be a follower please don’t be a follower) I took off.  Slooooowly.  Looking around.  Still not quite committed to fleeing the crime scene.  But how could I have a conversation with someone like the popo when I couldn’t hear, right?  I wasn’t even old yet so couldn’t fall back on that cliche.  Now I can hear fine.  But still can’t backup.  And don’t have a Bentley.  Or witnesses.  Shhhhh…..

The other morning I was awakened by that horrible sound much earlier then I was prepared for.  And I’m not talking an alarm clock.  If you’ve ever had a lot of construction or yard work at your home you know what I’m talking about.  The dreaded big truck backing up beepbeepbeep?!$?!  It is not a pretty sound.  And it made me cranky.  For awhile.  Then, as is my forte, I tried to put it in perspective.  Sometimes people say they’ve had a bad day.  But, is it really a bad DAY, or a bad five minutes that you’ve  milked for the rest of the day?  Down from the ledge I talked myself.  Be grateful that someone is cutting your lawn.  Why that 7:30 start time is necessary, hmmmm?  I could take a nap later if I’m tired.  Do I ever really take a nap later, no, but I’ll  just throw it out there for myself.  The Boomlennial could have things to complain about if they so choose, and many do.  Yes you might have some physical this and thats, but you also might have some disposable income to get people to cut your grass, plow your snow, or clean your house.  Or you let the snow and dust pile up and hope your neighbors are forgiving or helpful with the yard.  If you want to be really grateful for being so ‘mature’ compare yourself to a teen.  You can no longer get pregnant because your eggs are powdered.  I guess the male species could still manage that task if they have a younger partner who provides a channel that isn’t an echo chamber.  You don’t get carded and don’t have to drink 3.2 beer, which there probably still is but they put an Ultra label on it to pretend it’s tasty.  You can stay out all night, or ten o’clock, whichever comes first.  You have no curfew which the dog understands, an annoyingly forgiving beast.  Be appreciative of the wisdom you have now.  If you had it before,  those teen years would have been a lot less fun.  Or if those teen years weren’t that great, get off you a$$!  Fail better now.  I am wanting to take a riverboat cruise where there are no sickening waves, unless there are some rapids which would be a sight to behold.  The website said awaken your pioneer spirit and I’m there!  Awake!  Awake!  It’s just beneath the surface wanting to float out.  I can churn butter.  Shear riverboat sheep.  Perhaps eat good food and drink great wine, a task I am most proficient at.  And remember wherever you’re at……there is no complaining on the yacht.

If I haven’t lost you yet now might be a good time to bail.  There are certain subjects that you just can’t dress up or find a funny take.  But I will proceed with gusto(ish).  I imagine most Boomlennials have had their crack at caregiving along the way with a host of friends and family that just aren’t as filled with pizzazz as you’d like them to be.  And it’s hard work.  Everybody is focused on the needy one of course, otherwise your job title would be extinct.  Wouldn’t want that to happen, right?  Some days are a complete waste of makeup.  Lou Holtz, a legendary football coach, had a great quote.  Although now that I said legendary I don’t really know what that means.  Or what the legend is.  Could Google of course but I’m thinking I really don’t care that much about him.  Pick your battles.  Anywayyyy, he said “Don’t tell your problems to people.  Eighty percent don’t care, and the other twenty percent are glad you have them.”  I might even reverse those percentages and it would still hold true.  One of my dearests was asked for advice from a younger collegue.  He was struggling with making conversation and small talk in a business setting and wanted some advice.  Even though you won’t find this in any text book it rings true.  Just ask them about themselves.  That’s what they really want to talk about and given the slightest poke they’re off.  True that.  Then you can just sit back and have an imaginary cigarette. Puff.  Who was an imaginary dragon who lived by the sea and frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honilee. People care about themselves sniff.  A topic I’ve toyed with before and can never really find much evidence to refute.  So back to caregiving.  It sucks.  Which is a force of nature or we’d all fall off the earth.  You have to think what another persons needs are above your own. It’s exhausting.  And not fun.  Manure Occureth

I was attending a conference recently where three speakers were on the afternoon agenda, and I gleamed some very valuable insight.  First being, don’t ever sit in the front!!!  I am by nature a back row sitter and that’s where I do my best work.  I try to pay attention, but when my thoughts head south that’s all right.  At peace with my wanderings.  No harm, no foul.  But sitting in the front row is its own special type of hell.  (Too dramatic??)  I sometimes attend church with one of my specials, not for my benefit but because I seldom turn down the first request.  A telemarketers dream child.  In theory I like a rousing hymn, but this particular music is numbing.  Every song has forty-six verses but only twenty-one words.  It repeats and repeats and even the hand raisers and swayers finally give up.  The minister is very charismatic and Greek godish (yes a word)  however, so that keeps me engaged.  Except I usually end up thinking of olive groves and red wine, not the celestial experience I probably should be having at that moment.  But there comes a time when I just long for those three transcendent words, Let Us Pray.  My head drops!  My eyes close!  At that moment I must look like the most devout worshipper.  But alas.  Just a Boomlennial desparately seeking a quick nap.  And it feels so good!  Hallelujah!!  When the praying is over I’m the last to lift my head, and it’s sometimes a feat.  Others are probably praying for me at this point thinking I’m dealing with a lot of struggles.  Oh I’m struggling alright.  Crying out for the next prayer so I can close my eyes again.  So devout!  Okay  back to the conference.  All I wanted was one little prayer.  And to get out of the front row where I had to keep my eyes open and my head upright.  People were encouraged to tweet throughout which I find absolutely rude, but I was ready to dig out my phone and beg forgiveness for whatever might happen next.  Peace be with me.  Amen