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You’re out of touch, I’m out of time
January 13, 2010 I am really 90

“Why do old people always talk about the weather?” I clearly recall asking my mother this question, probably flipping my spiral-permed hair with my mood-ring-adorned hand and rolling my eyes. Likely I was wearing a black Depeche Mode concert t-shirt with ripped jeans at the time of this comment. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would speak about anything as mundane as the weather. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine not having incredibly meaningful conversations about poetry and alternative music at all times, the kind of conversations that would arouse emotions and incite heated debate.

But how about this weather?

It has been unusually warm over the past couple of days, and, since I am acclimatized to minus twenty, it feels like an absolute heat wave. A heat wave in which I am still wearing my winter boots and coat but still. It’s the kind of weather that instantly lifts my mood and makes me feel like Spring! Is! On! The! Way! Of course, this is ridiculous considering where I live but let’s just walk away from negativity, shall we?

I watched the movie In Bruges this weekend and it was incredible: hilariously funny, heart-breakingly touching, and possibly one of the most interesting movies I have ever seen. I enthusiastically recommended it to a few people, and the response was, consistently, that it is a great movie and that they saw it a few years ago, when it came out. Oh. I am always months and years behind on movie watching. One of these days I’m going to watch Brokeback Mountain. Even my grandmother has seen Brokeback Mountain – she saw it in the movie theatre – so I am officially more out of touch with popular culture than my grandmother. Actually, I am way more out of touch; she probably knows who Kim Kardashian is. The last movie I saw in the theatre was Pirates of the Caribbean Part Two, and I slept through most of it.

All of which is to say, I’m feeling a bit old. This feeling is not helped by the radio station I listen to, which frequently advertises for Grey Power Insurance. The other day I was listening to it, and the theme song from Golden Girls came on. First, I didn’t know that it was an actual song, not just a theme, and second, I SANG ALONG TO IT. Passionately. “And if you threw a PARTY, invited everyone you KNEW…”

What’s next? Coercing my husband into watching Jeopardy! and then answering all questions, out loud, in the form of a question? Oh wait.

"5" Comments
  1. Then I’m totally old… because I pretty much whine about the weather from December to March. Although probably not as old as you, since the girl you babysat is actually graduating! Heh.

  2. Nothing wrong with being old. Or so I tell myself after my Sister-in-law was lamenting how she is almost 30 (still three years away) and then she will be REALLY old.
    30 was more than a few days ago for me.
    So, nothing wrong with old.
    P.S. if you figure out who Kim Kardashian is, will you let me know?
    Thanks.

  3. I’m 27, love Jeopardy, would totally sing the Golden Girls theme song if it came on the radio, and I talk about the weather not just as small talk but because it enthralls me. And did I mention I live in Southern California? I know, right? What weather is there to even discuss? Anyway. You’re not old or I’m ancient. So shush. : )

  4. I am completely old. I made DATE BREAD last night, the official Food Of The Elderly.

    My grandma is way hipper than I am. She can distinguish between the various kinds of… horseradish-y stuff… in sushi restaurants. Not ME.

    Also: Frankly, I couldn’t imagine not having incredibly meaningful conversations about poetry and alternative music at all times, the kind of conversations that would arouse emotions and incite heated debate.

    HAHAHAHAH! Awesome.

  5. Holy Smokes, now I’ve been singing the theme song from Golden Girls for two straight days. Had to come back here to share that with you. :o)
    I’m pretty sure that enjoying the weather is what young people do.
    Watching the weather channel is reserved for old people.

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