Prunella

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 49. Yes, really turned 49. Next year I will turn 49 again. I think I will turn 49 for the rest of my life. I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not one of those people who will age gracefully. I intend to fight it all the way.

I keep reflecting that I simply don't feel like I have 364 days left until I am 50. That is until I try to get up off the floor quickly after playing a game with the boys. I'm a little less nimble than I used to be. My right knee makes the same noise that Cinderella's step sister Prunella's did in the original Rogers and Hammerstein TV presentation of the same name. Having just typed that, I realized that that presentation was made in 1965. Perhaps my knee is just remarking that I need to get a reality check on how old I actually am. Hell, since then Brandy has starred in a 1996 version that is already ELEVEN years old. Crap. The good news? Pat Carroll who played in the role of Prunella is still living. Thank heavens.

It's as if there is some disconnect between actually aging externally and aging internally. In my mind's eye I am still brown haired with a nice firm ass. In reality I have significantly less brown hair than gray and I have a 49 year old ass. If said ass is packed snugly (I said "snugly" not "hermetically sealed" - I am not a fool) in to a pair of jeans, it doesn't jiggle so much. But left to it's own devices unfettered by the restraints of denim laced with a smidgen of Lycra it's like a damn bowl of jello. Should I be doing some squats or something or is it just far too late for that?

Not too many months ago I was on the train in Boston with the boys. I was giving the motherly lecture on how to be a gentleman on the train by offering elderly people your seat on the train. I explained that they were young and supple and that elderly people would benefit more from the seat than they would. Not but seconds after this a young college girl, who was seated and apparently overheard my mini-lecture, tapped me on the shoulder and offered me her seat. If I'd of had a cane I would have hit her with it. Snotty little brat.

Having said all that - - I want to give a shout out to my family who made navigating the perils of aging yesterday a much kinder, gentler experience. I asked for a day to read a book cover to cover. I was graciously awarded that request. Henry made me a lovely necklace out of hand "knitted" kitchen string and Georgie gave me a coupon for a massage. (Aside: I don't think Georgie totally got the concept that he was supposed to be giving me something that he was going to pay for. He and George the Elder apparently had a conversation about the art of giving someone a gift that that person would enjoy and appreciate. Obviously, George the Younger missed the secondary part about being able to afford said gift. In other words, I got a piece of paper that is pretty much worthless with the exception of the good intentions behind it. We are halfway there.) Last, George the Elder made a delicious dinner of Kobe beef with sauteed mushrooms and black truffle gnocchi. He even bought me a sumptuous banana-creme pie. I adore that pie. Could this be another contributor to the jiggly ass? Most likely, but hell, it was my birthday. I'm old - I deserved it.