Walking into Sprouts, I find long lines at every register. Middle-aged white guy ahead of me stops abruptly when he sees the crowd, declares, “everywhere I go, I get punished.” Perfect lesson in an attitude not to adopt.
***
Phil’s getting ready to meet Martin for coffee. I wouldn’t want to be invited: it’s a design guy gathering and I have work to do. I told Phil so, and that I’m taking a bear claw out of the freezer to have for my own coffee break, as compensation.
“It’s important in a marriage to recognize each other’s inner child,” he observes.
Hollyhock gone to seed
When we are young, no foibles are so clear to us as those of our parents. As we age into our marriages, none are clearer than those of our spouses.
***
I have chronic aches in my right armpit, shoulder. It could be cancer or it could be the repetitive clicking required by computer games. I’m an intelligent person. I know that. But I don’t stop playing.
***
The dent in the fridge, the new scratch on the car, the crack in the ceiling. My eyes seek those blemishes and if I can’t see them, I peer closer or change my angle: “ah, there it is,” I exclaim with satisfaction, “the flaw I was looking for.”
***
We are cataloging our latest aches and pains and Phil says, “I don’t want to talk about old age anymore: it’s a dead end.”
Your writing prompt, should you choose to accept it: Pick one of the above and improvise.
Oh, that husband of yours… what a character!!
Ain’t he though?
A Guilty Admission
As a kid I spent every summer at the big pool a block from my house and used baby oil in my teens and early 20’s to bake a delicious bronze. I worked summers in Hawaii for many years and returned each fall to my job in New Orleans sporting a much envied tan glow. I’ve had a few small cancerous dots removed in the past 20 years and began wearing daily sun screen moisturizer on my face and body, especially when I hike. But recently I read an article in my Apple news feed (from Outside Magazine?) that claimed research is showing sun screen is actually not so great. According to researchers, we need more Vitamin D and the vitamin pills my doc prescribed are NOT the same as getting some of the real thing from the sun. I was tired of hiding my pastey legs under long skirts in the hot dog days of summer, so last week during our annual stay at the family cabin I kayaked every morning for an hour sans sunscreen. I wore a hat but convinced myself a little sun early in the morning and some color on my arms and legs was actually a healthy thing. Yesterday at the gym, surrounded by mirrors I got a good look at the browner me and realized I still like having a tan. But I also look a bit like Cindy Sherman’s new portraits of wrinkly society women.
Yep. Any way we looked good when young is not so successful as we prune into old age. But I also have largely abandoned sun screen, since I mainly get out early or late in the day. Great piece, Deb.
Haha. The constantly changing landscape of medical advice. Remember when eggs would kill you?
The sunscreen thing is pretty funny. NOW they start wondering if absorbing all those chemicals might not be good for you! If I’m not spending more than an hour in the sun, I don’t worry overmuch about slathering. I don’t get tan anyway. Just pinker and frecklier. My ancestors’ skin was used to fog and rain, not sun, and I never took tanning lessons as a kid.
It’s been nice and sunny all week in Maine. I think I’ll go to the beach this morning or so. As long as I don’t fall asleep in the sun, I’ll be fine.
Checking out at the local King Sooper, there’s only one open lane operated by a live employee, one I recognize and enjoy chatting with if there’s time. There will be no time today, as there are two folks ahead of me and suddenly two more behind. Management has added more self-checkout as well as “bag and go,” an electronic doodad you may purchase to scan and pay for stuff as you shop. Management has also appropriated an entire aisle for beer, which means they’ve stopped stocking certain items I have purchased at this store for the last thirty years. Oh well. I wait in line rather than switching to the self-check, knowing I’ll be greeted with a smile of recognition from Betty. Anyway, the pause allows time to reflect, remember, look at all the candy bars on sale and decide whether I’ve had enough exercise today to buy one. I haven’t, but I buy one anyway. What the hell. I’m too old to consider the ill effects of one candy bar, and as my friend Phil says, “I don’t want to talk about old age anymore: it’s a dead end.” Good one, Phil. Thanks for the chuckle.
You realize, Bob, half my blog posts would not exist without Phil Normand quotes. I write down as many as I can. It’s one of my life tasks.
“Punished?” What the hell? I haven’t felt punished since I was a child actually being disciplined, which must have happened now and then, but the only time I remember was being grounded for not keeping up with my DAILY reports in sixth grade, on a different South American country every day. Reports which were just reworded from entries in the World Book encyclopedia.
But how do you feel punished as a grown-up? Either you believe in Original Sin or you’re working on some shit with your analyst, I guess.
Exactly, Gregg. It was one of the most remarkable things I’d overheard in years.