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Go ahead. I know Madonna is in your head and you are just bopping along…touched for the very first time hum hum. Okay, enough. Focus. A Sturgeon is one of those old old fish that are still around because they’ve adapted. Rivers, oceans, freshwater, salt, caviar. Take my eggs and I still find a way to carry on. Much like the Boomlennial, we’ve seen many changes over the years, and have had to embrace them even if we were at first skeptical. Who didn’t struggle with those first computers? I still miss my Blackberry, probably because the learning curve was so long and hard. The IPhone seemed like a joke. There are no keys or letters!?!#! Of course, I had to move on, but I must say my muscle memory still longs for those little nubs. I’ve never been as proficient with the IPhone, probably because that Blackberry was my soulmate. First loves and all that. Now I’m having an odd affair with the Google, and just can’t stop jumping his bones. Geesh I miss when innocence was bliss and I didn’t need to know everything. Everything. One of my wee ones told me I need to get out of my comfort zone. After the surprise of him knowing that phrase, I figured he was probably right. But, was he??? I love my comfort zone! Don’t I deserve that yet?? I did a bit of backpedaling through my life, and realized I lived much of it OUT of my comfort zone. I’ve traveled, I’ve experienced, I’ve met, I’ve engaged, I’ve raised, I’ve participated, I’ve loved, I’ve pained, I’ve done most of the verbs. Enough already. Think a bit of comfort is in order. In whatever zone calls me. If life is about balance, I’ve tipped the scales wayyyy to one side. Speaking of scales, digital is way too unforgiving. I digress. At some point #now I really need to come to terms with my comfort zone and build a moat around it. With sturgeons. Let in whom and what I want. Applause applause. #thesnuggleisreal

Oops! Sorry. Bad punctuation. I’m giving up. Drinking till Christmas. The holiday creep has started two days into fall. I don’t dislike The Holidays. In fact, I think if we didn’t have something to shuffle the days around, the calendars would never be turned over. Do people still use physical calendars? I have mine hanging in the kitchen, and still try to keep tabs on my oh-so-busy life from it. I make a big production of moving it to a new month. Usually, I drop the little hanging nail on the floor and scramble around trying to find it before the dog does. Then after I rehang it, I’m curious about my past life, and want to know when I last got my roots done, teeth and hair. So off it comes again, yep, with the dropping of the nail. Traditions. Anyyyywayyy. The Holidays. Halloween is in full swing around town with bigger and better decorations. I’ve already been invited for Thanksgiving and my hosts turkey(s) have been ordered. Maybe because I’m a slacker #lazy all this just seems a bit too much. Creep creep. Give me some colorful leaves, a nice fire, and a losing football team and I can enjoy the fall. The losing football team is just a part of it. Probably if they actually were winning, the excitement would be too much for me. I’ve settled into enjoying the mediocrity. Did I mention traditions? Not everyone has to share the same ones. I’m starting the traditional Christmas shopping. For me. Who deserves it more? I just made apple crisp. For me. Again. Maybe The Holidays are just a bit too much sharry sharry. Not on my watch. This Boomlennial has to hold her own. And doesn’t like to be told when, what, how, whatever. I know I’ll coast into the festivities at some point, but until then I’ll just eat the ice cream that was meant for the apple crisp, decided it was too healthy, and do me. Sigh.

I am the voice of our Boomlennial generation. Or so I say. I like to control the narrative, and my millions of followers seem to be okay with that. We are not the baby boomers yapping on about bucket lists and happy places. Boomlennials have it together, and don’t need anyone to tell them how to behave. But oh darn. I’m starting to feel some strange air across my neck. It started slowly. I don’t want an Apple Watch. I know when I’m breathing and not sleeping. Yes, I eat too much cheese and use too little sunscreen, but I don’t need a vitamin D supplement. So many of my peeps have taken dry January to a whole new level. Just because they want to. Huh? Guess it’s a thing. When I was told that you don’t have to use the largest setting on the Keurig machine, I was baffled. Who knew those three buttons were different sizes? Sadly, everyone. None of these things are major affronts, but they seem to be adding up to not being as cool as I thought. And I think I am chill beyond measure. Until…..the teenage neighbor and his friends were in my pool and hot tub at one in the morning on Labor Day. First, I turned the outside light on. Waited. Did they think I was helping them see the slide. Didn’t leave. Then…..I actually let my dog out. I mean he really really really had to go. Really. He is gentle, but his bark is not. They bolted. And I went out and puffed around the yard like I made some major conquest. They shouted some F-you obscenities at me, which made me smile. At the time. Now……maybe I overreacted. The dog??? True that I didn’t want kids in the pool that may or may not have been having too much holiday celebration. But still. Might try a different tactic next time. Like calling the police. Kidddding! It is a slippery slope I fear I’m sliding down, though. I know I’m never going to be a Disney princess, but Evil Queen is now within my grasp. Not very Boomlennial of me humph. Then, my beloved football team is talking about building a new stadium. Everyone is a twitter about whether it should be a dome, and where should it be located. My first thought was who says ‘a twitter’. My second thought was I’ll probably not be around to enjoy it anyway so what do I care? I care!! I care a lot and I want to still care. About everything! I need to hit that Boomlennial reset button and keep on keeping on, man. Now how cool is that? Ugh.

The heat of this summer has me thinking about purses. Why wouldn’t it? I’ve always worked at having the best seasonal purse, and yes fall can be tricky. But I get there. Hello, Burberry plaid! This summer, however, has left me in a quandary. Just wasn’t feeling or seeing the right bag. I managed the small clutch for after hours, but hand cream and face grease sucker uppers weren’t going there. Fortunately, my closet is one big back up plan. Or so I thought! I’ve evolved. (Maybe not so much this blogue. Still very, very deep). The leather fringed bag with the turquoise clasp that was a major find in Montana a few years ago now looks like it died on the shelf. And did I really love it as much as I remember. Yes!! I did! Where did that cowgirl, flower child go? I really liked her. It’s just weird when a purse can tell your story better than the happenings of today. As I continued on through the closet, it was rather trippy. There’s the business bag, there’s the straw from vacay, the bag I got after a big check and needed to splurge, the I’m so depressed from gaining a few pounds I’m never buying clothes again. A real cornucopia of life. And since I did take my purse buying way too seriously, it did tell my story. Who needs a fascinating blogue? Me! Me! I need it all! No one else is keeping track of my quick flight through this world. The lowly lipstick and Kleenex carrier has an awesome responsibility. Which makes me realize I need to get shopping and ponder the essence of this summer. There must be a purse out there feeling my vibe. Very very important stuff here. Q. Why did the purse go to therapy? A. It had too many issues to carry around. LV I’m coming!!!

That’s what I saw when I logged on to blogue today. Just wow. I know I’m endlessly fascinating. I know nothing makes me laugh harder than my own words. But….does Emir in Istanbul enjoy it as much as my millions of American followers?? Probably. Who wouldn’t? I guess I just never thought so globally. My bad. I’ll try to include you from now on. Now where was I??? Vacation. Yes, that’s where my thoughts originally started before I was reminded of my world outreach. (Hey. If I don’t pat myself on the back, okay upper shoulder, who will?). Boomlennials need to do more self flagellation because no one is going to take on that job. As some of us start to age out of life (no one that is reading this blogue!!!!) it has become apparent to me that sometimes older people (not us) are seen as less important than younger people. I think it starts with your offspring, because they can get away with it. (I still try to be nice to them), but it moves on to many professionals that you deal with from doctors, to bankers, to grocery store clerks monitoring the self checkout. Very, very professional. I just often feel a dismissive attitude from them. I could be the Queen (I am) but I feel a disrespect or a patronizing attitude. Ok, back to vacation. Kind of. A younger, drunker woman sat next to me at a bar on the beach. I wasn’t striking up conversation with her, but she interrupted my chat with my companion to tell me how cute my outfit was. From top to flip flops. It was, but that wasn’t her intent. She was patting herself on the lower shoulder because she had done a good deed for the day, making the Boomlennial feel like she looked presentable. Actually, I might have even done it myself sometimes when I think someone could use a little boost. I am quite the worldwide humanitarian, you know. Probably that’s why I recognized the back handed compliment. Vacation. What happened to me talking about it?? It was great! It was hot! It was a nice getaway from normal life. You can come as you are, but you will not leave as you are. There.

….I could not be blown away WHEWWWWWW! Hear that wind? That golden orb in the sky really did outdo herself. Must be a female because she brought it! There are many things I do/see/feel/taste/hear that just do not live up to the hype #Beyoncesnewcountryalbum. I tried to like it. I Wanted to like it because music just doesn’t engulf me like it used too. I can still remember sitting in my little box of a bedroom and listening to my two 45’s for hours. And loving every minute of it. Every new record got played way more than it probably should have. Guess that is probably a story for a therapist. But music gave me so much pleasure. Now I hear new songs and I feel like Larry David ach. But that eclipse…. Over whelmed me. I still miss ‘totality’ day after, and that’s a word I never heard before but will use inappropriately for years to come. Kind of like the Kentucky Derby where they say it’s the most exciting two minutes in sports, at ‘totality’ it was the best three minutes and seventeen seconds that Mother Nature had to offer. The sky looked amazing, the surroundings looked amazing, and new colors exploded all around me. It takes a lot for this Boomlennial to be wowed, and wowed I was. And still am. Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps, just like I got when the sky darkened and the temperature dropped during the event. Brrrrr. Just thrilling. Now you may be thinking I need a life, and maybe I could step it up a bit, but can’t quite think of anything to give me that buzz. Pharmaceuticals, perhaps, but give me a few more years to go that route. Most people do drugs when they’re young, but I think it should be a boomlennial pursuit. I’m going to start smoking cigs when I’m eighty and move on from there. Something to live for and all that. If I could have an eclipse everyday I’d be a satisfied woman. Is it really too much to ask?? Guess I should be grateful that there are new experiences out there, and just when I’m sure I’ve seen it all, I haven’t. Hope they all don’t involve celestial phenomenon because then you’re getting into some deep sh* t. One of my wee dearests who was watching with me asked what the Rapture was. Don’t know where he heard that term since we are not a biblical family. So, of course, Google had the answer which kind of freaked us all out. Mainly because people think it’s going to happen. I’ll settle for a small weather event, like a hurricane, or tornado. Juuuust kidding. Kind of. Think I mean a nice passive event. Or do I????? #hitmewithyourbestshot

Now that the calendar has turned, I’m already counting down to the new year. Not that I’m in any rush. Boomlennials do things just a bit slower, and that includes making plans. Or maybe that’s just me. Once that new physical calendar is on the wall, it looks lonely and bare. Like it wants my attention. But do I really want to give it?? New year, must start making those annual doc appointments. Knock knock. But, I need to pace myself. Find out one part is good, then reevaluate. Or screw the rest if it’s not. Even my Manfriend is breathing down my neck. And not in a good way. He likes to plan things. Nice things. For me. So why do I feel the pressure?? Pick pick pick. #whowhatwhenwhere #why Leave me alone. (Not really). Guess making decisions that are ‘optional’ just crowd me. In real life, I make lots-oh-decisions. Hard decisions. Important decisions. So important. So where to go for a birthday dinner just leaves me clawing and snarling. Poor Manfriend. Yet he persists. Snarl. Turn the month over. Must start making vacay plans. Book it! Turn the page. Going to a destination wedding. Book it! Turn the page. Years half over. See where I’m going with this?? Me neither. Just thought I’d enlighten you with my nonsense. It’s that dang calendar in the kitchen. Staring at me to give it some meat. I tried using an online calendar, but that did not work out. You actually have to open it and look at it. Which I did. Usually after the fact. So now I do both, and on a good day I show up where I need to, or decide it must not have been that important. Or panic because it was. Quit calling me! So here’s what I learned. Never take a dog named Shark to the beach.

There’s a trend in the Boomlennial world that’s just catching on way too fast. Gray hair, yes, but I’ve done that wench down to the roots. This is serious stuff. So serious. When I go out to dinner, I study the menu. Gage my hunger. Mentally calculate my caloric intake for the day, and look for the twenty-three calorie entree. Order accordingly. Of course, sometimes my choice ends up being twenty-three million calories, and that’s all right! I take the extra home in a nice, little ‘to go’ box. Where it sits in the fridge for two weeks until I throw it out. Or give it to the dog. Unless it’s chocolate. Dogs should not eat chocolate. Anyway, enough about my dysfunction. The Boomlennial trend is to go out to dinner in order to have lunch the next day. I keep seeing people ordering apps, entrees, dessert. Soup to nuts. Okay, maybe not soup. That’s messy. But there is a container for that. The point being, they don’t really want dinner. They want stacks of food ‘to go’. As if the cupboards are bare and they’ll starve tomorrow. They’ll take two bites of the appetizer and ask for ‘the box’. Two bites of steak. Now ‘the box’. See what I’m saying here?? Don’t think they are really enjoying the dinner, just wanting the ‘to go’. Then of course they need ‘the bag’ to put all the ‘to go’ in. Geesh. Just enjoy you’re dinner!?&$!! And go out to lunch tomorrow if your cupboards are truly bare. They’re not. Remember the time when you’d ask for a ‘doggy bag’ and then cringe in shame because everyone knew you were going to eat it?? I’d take steak bones and have to explain that they really were for the dog. And if they’d look it was evident I already sucked every last piece of meat off. Which probably made the waitress feel even worse that I’d be making bland soup the next day. I’d like to think the new trend was cross generational, but it’s not. Younger people aren’t thinking about what they will eat tomorrow. Until tomorrow. Where they are probably wishing they had the rest of that spaghetti. A couple next to me one evening, (Boomlennials duh), ordered a pizza. Wise choice. Probably okay to take some of that home. But then they asked for bread when they ordered. Never touched it, of course, but wanted to take it ‘to go’. Probably didn’t eat that pizza cold for breakfast. Just a generational thing. And none of us lived through the depression so can’t even use that excuse. Viva la dinner!! And walk away without balancing boxes of food that probably won’t even be good the next day. I used to work at a place that used many volunteers during the year. At Christmastime, they would have a big thanks you party with appetizers and desserts. Good stuff. People rsvp’d and the caterer planned accordingly. However, they didn’t calculate the age of the participants and they’d run out of food early. The Boomlennials brought zip lock bags and loaded up. Really. Cheese bag, cookie bag, and yum will those celery sticks be good at home another day. Couldn’t concentrate on enjoying the evening. Still shaking my head. And wishing I had some leftovers in the fridge for lunch. Hmmmm. Maybe I need to rethink this. #whoisthesillywillynow

I feel like lately I’ve been committing all kinds of social faux pas. Being a person who enjoys real manners, and grammar (#loser), I just need to check myself. I’m a blurter (yes that’s a word, kind of, it’s not). So for me to say something that Others think is inappropriate is kind of the norm. I usually don’t agree that what I said was that egregious, but if I’ve offended someone, damn. Not what I wanted to do. I was telling a Boomlennial friend about my new vacation house. She almost gasped, stared me straight in the eyes, and told me that area was her happy place. Hmmmm. What does that even mean?? And did I offend her or steal something? Who knew? I almost wanted to apologize because it seemed like one of those notorious gaffes of mine. Then I even felt guilty because it’s not really my happy place, yet I appropriated it from her. Maybe I’m overthinking this (maybe?) but the conversation stuck in my mind. Of course, now I want a happy place and just not feeling it. I enjoy a lot of places, but do they truly make me happy??? My closet makes me quite happy. It’s big and has wayyy too many clothes in it, in wayyy to many sizes. Just walking in it sometimes does make me smile, though. Unless I’m heading to the jumbo section and then it just makes me sad. Recently, watching TV has made me unnaturally happy. I always kind of, sorta, maybe liked TV but would rather read in my free time. But now. Sigh. Can’t wait to meet back up with my TV friends. The shows are just too good, and no commercials. I had a power outage and thought my best friend took a major hit, and was shaky all day till it was fixed. Whew. Although, I did get very mad at it. A young interviewer was asking someone to explain ‘so Grandma would understand it’ about a major engineering feat while constructing this massive building. No, Grandma did not understand it, but neither did you, you little dweeb. Bet math wasn’t your major, journalism student. Comment took me right out of my happy place. Would have loved to read the negative emails. None from me. Of course not. That would be petty. I need to redirect my emotions into something more constructive and happier. Will go sit in the closet. And stare at my skinny jeans. And ponder why people wear mountain climbing clothes to the office. In the summer. I just don’t know….

The ultimate marathon is in full swing, and I’m committed to the challenge. Not going to let a kinky hip or a few too many bonbons slow me down. (BTW what even IS a bonbon?? And yet it just rolled off my tongue.). I met a couple Boomlennial friends for dinner one evening, and it left me scratching my head. Not really, but the cliches are front and center today. Friend A, now known as the completely gray one, always had the most beautiful hair. It grew like mad, so always had a new style every time I saw her. Short, long, shagged, bobbed, and everything in between. Dark, shiny brown. Friend A still has a cute style, but oh my the gray. She bowed out at mile twenty. I guess when your hair does grow that fast it’s hard to keep up with the color, but I would make it a full time job. No retirement yet. She likes it, so as much as I want to say it’s none of my business, it is. I’m fighting for all Boomlennials here. Finish Strong. Friend B…. (Pretty sure she doesn’t read my blogue, I hope, I hope). This illness, that illness. Downsized everything. I know that can be a positive, but it just seems too mile fifteen. When she said she can’t drive at night anymore, all I could think was WTF. Yes you can. Just too easy to play the old people game sometimes. Us cruising Boomlennials want to Finish Strong, despite small challenges creeping in the way. There are many health issues that are forced on us, but having a positive mindset gets you to the next mile. Plug plug along. Maybe because I like being the leader of the pack, I do what I can to not run in your stink. Getting to that next mile marker. Old people just make me cranky and that’s not very Boomlennial of me. When in doubt, I just need to remember who I am and straighten my crown. On my shiny, blond hair.