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Age, Country Strong, Hildie McQueen, Humor, Jesse Lee, Kissin' in Cars, What's Your Chocolate Blog Hop
I knew I would write a blog on this topic one day.
Hildie McQueen’s recent blog titled Remember When? moved ‘one day‘ to today. In her article, Hildie pondered achieving the ripe young age of fifty. I can remember only imagine how that feels.
She does not look fifty. She doesn’t feel fifty. There’s a twenty-five year old kicking around inside Hildie. How, she wondered, did the years sneak up on her? That thought-provoking article led to one of my rare novellas masquerading as a comment.
It led to me to comment about a refrigerator magnet I recently saw; a magnet that expressed my new favorite motto about age.
Maybe because I hadn’t seen it before.
Maybe because it invites participation.
Maybe because my answer can be twelve, twenty, thirty-five, or two — depending on what shenanigans I’ve been up to or plan. So, what are these words of gleedom?
How Old Would You Be If You Didn’t Know Your Age?
[Yeah, I know. Duh! My title pre-snapped that revelation’s garter, didn’t it?]
I don’t believe a number should dictate who I am or how I act or what I can accomplish.
Numbers only pop my kettle corn when they sum to more than I thought I had in my checkbook, when the illusive solution to a Sudoku puzzle materializes, when my word count for the day exceeds goal, when my miles to empty exceeds miles to the next gas station, when…
It makes a difference in my ability to reach goals, dreams, or destinations.
Which logically segues to…
My Least Favorite Socks
I did not purchase these socks.
I wear them when they are the only clean, exercise-friendly socks left in my sock drawer.
It wasn’t until recently that I came to realize why I don’t like them.
The epiphany happened while I sat on the front porch at Sherry Isaac’s house, stretching out a new pair of shoes.
Look at them!
They’re like a “behave” beacon for mischief.
Nonsense is (IMHO) an essential ingredient in life.
That, and the wisdom to pay-it-forward, do no harm, and do the next right thing.
One of my favorite refrains on the soundtrack for Country Strong comes from Kissin’ in Cars (Original artist: Jesse Lee):
If this world I’m living in thinks I’m giving in easy
You’re gonna find out I only go down kickin’ and screaming
I’ll never stop stop chasing, and dreaming and wishing on shooting stars
And I still like kissin’ in cars
I listened to both CD’s of Country Strong during my travels. I know this song by heart. I sing this refrain.
Out loud.
In my car.
When I’m alone.
I would offer a soundtrack of my rendition, but had vocal tuning technical difficulties.
[You’re welcome.]
I still have a lot of mischief-making in me. Too much to list on something I do not have, which is a…
Bucket List
Yup. That’s right. I don’t have a bucket list.
That’s not to say I don’t have goals. I do.
That’s not to say I don’t make lists. I do.
I am a fan of Bucket Lists in general. KUDOS to those of you who have them, and work toward achieving the items listed.
The idea doesn’t work for me. Why? Because I made a joke once that shocked me out of the desire to maintain one.
[YIKES! There are a lot of I, Me, and My’s in this post aren’t there? I could switch to expressing That Goofball’s opinions, but you’d know it was Me, I, and My anyway.]
WHAT IN THE HECK DID THAT GOOFBALL SAY?
That Goofball once joked that if she had a bucket list, there would be one item that she couldn’t cross off herself.
[Told ‘ya! You knew it was me, right?]
That one item?
Kick it. The bucket.
I should not have uttered those words.
Plus, I’ve learned that goals and dreams and hopes change with life’s meddling habit of lobbing opportunities and challenges like fast balls in a World Series game.
GLORIA PLANS; GOD CHUCKLES
Yes, I’m blessed with good health, with food on the table, with friends more special than I sometimes deserve, with a wonderful family, and with the ability to dance alone in public whenever I want.
So, until that plan changes for me, I choose to ignore my age.
Those numbers sneak up on us so quickly because they aren’t supposed to be there. Ignore them! They’re from another galaxy. Interlopers!
I’m no saint in the vanity arena. I lather on lotions, and Google foods rich in vitamins good for the skin, and exercise when I’m on my game. But, the years mean nothing. It’s not how we look on the inside that holds us back or propels us forward. It’s how we live on the inside.
So, until a new game plan is issued for me, I choose to do as I suggested to Hildie.
I choose to pick up those excess years, pack them in a basket, and deliver them to the doorstep of someone who chooses to sit on the sidelines and watch the world go by.
So, what’s your opinion? Is it self-centered or delusional to feel that way? Am I full of malarkey? [It’s okay to say so. Just address those comments to The Goofball.] Finally…
How old would you be if you didn’t know your age?
SKA-WEEEEE! PINGBACK LOVE!
The oh-so-talented Mary Pax, Brinda Berry, Ciara Knight, Laura Eno are hosting a What’s Your Chocolate? blog-hop today. I’ve already visited several, but rushed back here to add the links. What better way to start a week and end a post about age than with a CHOCO-FEST! Hop the links and enjoy some awesome reads. They have prizes! WOOT!
Gloria Richard 
I vacillate. Some days I’m 25 or 43 or infinity. The number just doesn’t matter to me and I think that all engaged and engaging people are the same. Keep the mind hopscotching along with pretty stones and bright-colored chalk and you truly are only as old as you feel. Love your take on the quote, Gloria!
Thanks for the comment and the reminder, Elaine.
I need to purchase sidewalk chalk. For my grandkids. Yup. Totally for their pleasure.
I will hold on to this wisdom, perhaps even have this wisdom printed on a magnet, a big bright and coloUrful magnet, and stick that wisdom smack dab in the middle of my fridge:
“I don’t believe a number should dictate who I am or how I act or what I can accomplish.”
Amen, Goofball mine. Well said.
Dang, Sherry! I didn’t realize how much I like that line until you picked it out of all of the other blather smattering this post.
*Looks at self in mirror. Says, “sometimes your subconscious works when your Goofball self is busy chasing shiny baubles.*
It’s going to be a rocking good writing day today. I can feel it. Safe travels to Soo. Chat this evening?
Fabulous post Gloria and I couldn’t agree more!
I do celebrate and look forward to birthdays each and every year because for me, they signal the year of my birth, another year of gifts and challenges and lessons learned…to me, each year is worth celebrating as is my age…but I don’t let the number on my birth certificate dictate my choices or decisions…I don’t let it hold me back! I honor it because I’ve EARNED those years but to me…we are as FREE as we feel!
Love it!!!!!
Somehow, I knew you’d be on board with (1) age is a number, (2) you
can beare a kid at heart for as long as you choose to be, and (3) any reason is a rocking reason for a parTAY!!!Can’t wait to read what you and Scott do to create shock and awe in your wake 20 days from now, let alone 20 years. Woot!
I totally agree! I feel like I’m in my late 30’s but my 20 and 22 year old remind me that I am a bit older than that! The day that I start acting my age is the day they put me in the home, kicking and screaming. Well then I would be having a tantrum and still wouldn’t be acting my age! Hahahaha!
Love this Gloria!
I’m with you Susie. Love your posts from the Wild Side.
I’ve decided that if I reach an age people consider to be my “dotage,” I’ll be able to get away with all manner of nonsense. They’ll simply put it down to me being an eccentric. I’m cool with that. So long as I can still dance alone in public.
I will dance right alongside you!
Thanks so much!
Great post! There are days when I feel like I’m 110 and days when I feel like I’m 25.On those 110 days, I remind myself of my grandmother who lived to be 102. When she was in her 80’s she had to be persuaded that my cousins didn’t need help to re-shingle the barn roof and also went swimming in the surf in Hawaii. She never let her aches and pains get in the way of doing things. From her I learned you can be proud of the birthday numbers since you’ve earned every one of them but also that they’re just a number and remember the motto “Life is not a journey to the grave with the intentions of arriving with a well preserved body but rather to come skidding in broadside, totally used up and proclaming “Damn, what a ride.”
Dang, Helen, I love that!
…”come skidding in broadside, totally used up and proclaiming “what a ride.”
Thanks so much for sharing your grandmother’s wisdom!
I want to be 27 for ever, why because it’s older than 25 and younger than any ugly number with a zero on the end. Oh well, life begins at whatever age you are when you finally accept yourself and find that you like you! Feeling the love Goria!
Your blog obviously struck a chord with me Hildie. Now, let that Chocolate Hop Magic rock today.
I’m feeling an overwhelming urge to break my promise to myself and skedaddle to Yogurtland for some chocolate and caramel magic.
Hey! Wait! What’s stopping me? I’m in the mood to be a naughty five-year-old in need of a sweet treat. I can always let 35 year old me work off the sugar at the gym tomorrow, right?
Sorry about the misspell on the name GLORIA!! LOL hee hee Goria….hee hee
I go by many names, Hildie. (And, I would have fixed it for you anyway.) Leaves me an extra “L” to use in my WIP.
Here’s my favorite gem from this awesome post: “It’s not how we look on the inside that holds us back or propels us forward. It’s how we live on the inside.” Absolutely!
Most days I feel somewhere around 25, though the reflection in the mirror mocks me for that. I ignore that woman because she can be way too touchy-feely with her “love those wrinkles, embrace your age like a soft, warm hug, rejoice in the wisdom you’ve gained with age.” Whatever, lady. I choose to think, act, and feel more like a 25 year-old with the world as my oyster. Way more fun that way.
I’m obviously in a fiesty mood today – sorry for the odd ramblings… 🙂
Odd ramblings? Tami? Pshaw!
I love that you choose to think, act and feel like a 25 year-old with the world as your oyster. You slammed a ton of learning into those short years — and you found your “voice” at such a young and tender age.
Rejoice in the wisdom you’ve gained with age, indeed. Then, toss out anything that begins with “at your age, you should/shouldn’t/can’t…”
Sure, wrinkles need love, too. I treat mine to Origins Youthopia in sinfully prodigious amounts. 😉
Lovely post, Gloria. It made me truly wonder why I found turning 50 such a hardship. I didn’t like it. I’m nearly limping because I hosted a party for 30+ people yesterday. Bothers me that I’m feeling it. But I do have to remember to embrace this new stage in life. My body may feel old at times, but I never feel old on the inside.
I am a bit odd in that the big “zero” hall-mark birthdays didn’t bother me. All
fourwhatever of them.And, Sharon, do not measure the aches and pains you feel today as an indicator of age. I saw the pictures. I’m not sure I would have climbed out of bed after that fandango.
If I’m ever again in need of a bridal shower…
SHOOT ME! I’m obviously out of my mind!
Gloria … we are truly as young as we feel and I feel like I am still a young woman starting a new venture is life.
Don’t call it a “bucket” list … my friend calls it her “Life” list … and she intends to keep crossing off places on the globe and other things until she can’t and who knows when that will be.
Know a 93 year old who still works out, travels and is a great writer. Age? It truly is all in our minds 🙂
You rock on, Gloria and remember … a woman never tells her age and curse the one who asks !!
Florence! I am so excited for you and this new venture in your life. Squee! New home! New neighbors!
The 93-year-old who stills works out, travels, and is a great writer? LOVE. HER!
So far, I’ve been blessed with physical health. No arthritis, creaks, or groans. I hope it stays that way. (Reference Gloria Plans; God Chuckles above)
My Life List (thank-you) doesn’t have room for worrying about something that hasn’t yet happened.
Sometimes my digits stop me in my tracks and sent a shiver of fear through me as the words “The end is coming” ominously sound in my head. Most of the time, I live, live, live! We only live this life once, so we better make sure that it’s well-used.
Perhaps I had the words “the end is coming” knocked out of my noggin years ago by my paternal grandfather, Patricia.
I swear he read the Bible through to Revelations and didn’t realize he could begin again at Genesis. I remember once telling him about plans I had for two years in the future. His response? “The world may not last that long. The end is coming.” Tough way to live ninety-four years on this earth.
So glad you smack those thoughts down and live, live, live!
I always think that age is an attitude. I’m much younger than my actual age.
Yes, you are younger than your actual age — whatever that is.
However, I hold you personally responsible for my childish decision after reading your chocolate post yesterday. Yup. I had to do it. I had to test the combination of caramel ice cream with an added sprinkle of toffee…
And it was right before bedtime.
Sigh.
Protein only today.
My age is a top secret military secret. You know…if I told ya I’d have to kill ya…..etc. Gloria, take those no-nonsense socks and burn those babies. I believe in all the nonsense I can get. 🙂
Can you believe I own No Nonsense socks? Geesh. I’ll bring them to Arkansas the next time I travel to Pennsylvania and we’ll burn them in a bonfire…
Right after we finish eating our crepes with Chocolate Gravy.
Oh. YIKES. The EF BE EYE visited the other day. I peaked in their files. I won’t tell your age. I promise.
I like that you use your no nonsense socks to stretch out sexy shoes. Heck ya!
I’m kind of the flip side, sometimes too serious for my age. I have been told I have an old soul, which is a compliment, until you picture it in your head and see a woman with an afghan draped over her legs sitting in a rocker. Then it’s depressing. I know I’m not that bad! I’m pretty saucy and full of sarcasm too, but having to dive into a full time job and work the hours I do well before my peers has given me a different perspective. A lot of them have partied and traveled more, and I’ve had to wait for those opportunities. Makes them more special to me though!
Chocolate you say?…
Ever the one to find the positive, Jess…
I take “the old soul” compliment to mean you are wise and serene and happy in your own skin. So, toss off those images of a rocking chair and afghan. Stick a geranium in your wonky hat and be saucy! Woot!
It takes all personalities. And, I love all of them.
I’ve met old people who were twenty, vibrantly young people who were seventy, and I’m convinced all males stop mentally maturing past age twelve (and my husband agrees). Age is relative. It’s all about how you feel. While pregnant, I feel ancient.
Megan! Did you mean that you are pregnant? As in, you have a little person swimming around in your tummy practicing kick-boxing on your rib cage?
If yes, Woo-Hoo for you! And, I understand why you feel ancient at times. NO FUN having to use your hands to hoist yourself out of the chair during the latter stages.
As for “all males stop mentally maturing past age twelve…”, would that claim have something to do with something else that begins maturing at or around that age? Just curious…
HAHAHA!! As it so happens…
Woo-Hoo, Megan! Congrats!
My husband always says “I’ll be 29 on my next birthday.” In fact, I was standing right there when the doctor asked his age, and that is what he said. Needless to say I did my wifely duty and reminded him that 29 was a long time ago. Just keep telling yourself you are young and you’ll act that way. I know, Gloria, that you will be 29 next year too!
Jess-eeee-ca!
I don’t know what age I’ll be next year or tomorrow or within the next fifteen minutes. It all depends on what song is on the radio, and whether I find Dreyer’s Caramel Delight Slow-Churned Ice Cream (1/2 the fat! 1/3 fewer calories!) in my freezer.
My husband drives me nuts.
Yes, that’s a complete thought.
But, I’ll narrow the context. [Just in case he checks my glob.]
When he hits a mid-point, between decades birthday, he starts rounding up to the next zero mark. He may have permanent frostbite of the nose from those times when he said, “You just wait. When you’re my age you’ll…”
I inherited The Look from my dad.
You’ve got Hildie pegged. She has the soul and energy of a 25 y/o and the mischievous nature of a three year old. Love ya, WBFF. 😉
Totally agree with your comments about Hildie. It comes through in her voice on her blog. Wish I could hear it in person at M&M again this year. Yes. I’m still
poutingdisappointed that budget constraints hold me in Texas this year.Ready for a chuckle? No?
I’m gonna tap my foot until you say “yes.”
Ready now? Okay. I know what BFF stands for. But, I wasn’t sure about WBFF. Yes, I know. It’s probably a well known twitter-verse acronym.
But, I Googled it anyway. The only specific reference I found was World Bonsai Friendship Federation. Do not be surprised if you see a Glob titled Under the World Bonsai Friendship Fed Tree.
Gloria, a woman after my own heart! I go around telling people that 60 is the new 29, which is how old I behave. Maybe someone will start believing me and keep the word spreading. Even though I don’t have the energy to stay up all night partying like I did in my 20s, I still have the sexy, sassy attitude and the desire for fun and laughter. I know too many people in their 50s and 60s who act like they’re 80. My 88 yr old mom still thinks she’s 35. She cracks me up when she sits sideways in her chair to read with her legs hanging over the arm of it!
BTW, the W in WBFF likely means ‘wildly hilarious and gorgeous’, don’t you think? 😉
YES, Marcia! Thank you for clearing up that niggling worry of mine. Wildly Hilarious and Gorgeous, you say? I’m
so notcertain that’s what Ciara meant to say.Love the visual of your mom reading with her legs tossed over the arm of the chair. Is there any other way? I’ll bet she even mentally notes the hot-spots in her reads. (IYKWIM)
The way I see it now, partying until dawn was not all that special. Those hours after
tenmidnight were largely when the“whatwas I thinking?” memories originated. Besides, dawn on the other end of a good night’s sleep rocks.Hopping over to visit your twenty-nine-year-old self. It’s been far too long.
Thanks, Gloria! Yeah, mom loves a steamy story. We’re so close partly because she’s never acted her age! Now you have me stumped…what’s IYKWIM? lol Oh I have great memories of staying out listening to music til 3 am and then going to ‘breakfast’ at some diner and hanging out til 5 or so, getting home as my Mom was getting up for work at 6. Can’t do that anymore!
SQUEE! Sitting in the back row waving hand. Pick me! Pick me! IYKWIM stands for If You Know What I Mean.
My all-time favorite is IDK. Why? [You don’t ask, but I answer anyway.]
Sherry Isaac and I were on chat when she posed the question “What does IDK mean?”
I answered “I Don’t Know.”
A true Who’s on First Moment.
I knew IDK from my kids and all their texting. Must be that IYKWIM was too long for them to text.
I love your Who’s on First convo! I suppose Sherry finally got it!
Have an amazing weekend, Gloria (Can’t help hearing Van Morrison’s band singing – She makes me feel so good; She makes me feel alright, G-L-O-R-I-A, Gloria!) http://youtu.be/7RI-QtEAwvE
Gloria, I just love you, and I love this post. You make me laugh! Never at you, of course, but in a sort of I-could-have-written-this-same-post kind of way.
LOL — those socks! Wherever did you find them?
Well, being one who has just landed at the ripe age of 30, but who also is undergoing a physical maelstrom of yuck, I would said that right now, in this moment, I feel about 105. Most days I feel my age, though. And I think that’s a good thing. My twenties was a time to figure myself out, figure out who God is molding me to be. I am hoping my thirties will be a decade spent in purposeful action.
Happy Saturday to you!
~ Cara
I hate that you still suffer from a “physical maelstrom of yuck.”
My twenties were a teeter-totter of identity crises and opportunities and knock-downs. Fortunately, we both had the gumption to kick our way through them. BONUS! It’s the decade when I learned to line dance. Who can’t love that?
I have been blessed with good health. No aches. No pains. I pray your thirties will deliver that type of physical serenity to you. Keep smiling. And, writing.
Pinging good vibes from the stars over Texas your way.
Yeah, I think being 29 would be pretty good. 30 was the first birthday I ever had where my first thought was, “Oh. Crap.”
You’re lucky that was the first birthday you ever had where your first thought was, “Oh, Crap.”
Mine was on my twenty-first birthday. ‘Course, that was the morning after. Does that count?
Thanks for the visit. I have been such a Social Media slug with The Golden Heart hanging over my noggin. Must. Stay. Focused. Especially after my six week
writing retreatsabbatical.I’ll bop over to see what you’ve been up to. “Visit Triberr” is on my to-do list for this week. I need to be a better tribe member. Everyone likely thinks I fell off a stool at Starbucks.
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I loved the post, Gloria. You are so damned funny, and your writing is fantastic. The way you string me along with your comments is great.
Okay, let’s get down to business. Age. Once you reach a certain point, the number tied to age is about as valid and useful as that tag on the mattress that always made me wonder (as a kid, when age DID matter) if the cops had special equipment that lit up and set off alarms when naughty little boys ripped the tag off the mattress.
Like many of the great replies above, my age varies. Age is relative. I’m 41. I’ve been told that I look like a solid early 30’s kind of guy. I feel better than I did when I was in my twenties. To top it off, I sometimes like to act like I’m 12.
Somebody asks me my age? Bah, that’s a boring question. Ask me if I can tie a knot in a cherry stem with my tongue. That’s more fun.
Can you tie a knot in a cherry stem with your tongue?
Yes…
I can.
As a naive teenager, I thought it was a fun yet silly skill that would not amount to much.
Oh, the stems I have tied 😉
And, yes, I am intentionally pinging your inbox with replies just for grins and giggles.
YIKES! Just remembered I made reference to the EF BE EYE in this post and here we have one in our midst. You know I meant no disrespect, right?
The hubster trained at Quantico back-in-the-day long before I met him. I think he did a 6 month stint there the first time. I have one question:
Can I send him back?
LOL
Yes, I know.
You can send him back. Quantico is FANTASTIC. Ask him about the deer at the range, the gerbal tubes, and the kareoke in the boardroom.
Just read in Atlantic Magazine that talking about yourself engages the mesolimbic dopamine system, aka the pleasure center, the same area of the brain that responds to food, sex and money, and that this is GOOD for us. So carry on with the me’s and I’s.
Oh yes, if your knees, hips and heart hold out, age can reside happily in your mind for a long, long time. My 84 year old Dad, who recently discovered the pleasures of Ibuprofen (“good stuff”), says he was lucky enough to stay young until 83. 84 brought a few surprises, like discovering that sometimes he can’t rise out of a chair without hauling himself up with the aid of another hand or a railing. The trick is to really live until old age comes, which it will, eventually, so you have a lot of stuff inside to feed you and keep you warm when your vehicle starts to rust.
Fun posting!
SKA-WEEEE! Thanks for the visit and the inspiration from your dad.
Oh! And “mesolimbic dopamine system.”
I plan to use that the next time I do something goofy “just because.”
“I was exercising my mesolimbic dopamine system. Why do you ask?”
Sing it to the tune of the Mexican hat dance. O me-so-lim-bic, me-so-lim-bic, meso meso meso lim-bic
KA-SNORT! Love your style.
Reblogged this on silverlyn49.
Hi, Silverlyn49! Thanks for the reblog. My first one — ever.
I tried to hop over to your site to see what you’re up to, but can’t get past the privacy settings. Hopefully, you’ll check responses here so you know how much I appreciate your visit and the compliment of a reblog.