Saturday, August 11, 2012

That's What I'm Talkin' About!

Although,  admittedly, self diagnosed via online testing, I feel comfortable proclaiming myself to be an introvert.  Recently, I have become even more introspective than normal, normal for me that is.
Lately, Lynda and I have been having deep conversations about “what its all about” and "where I go from here".  It has been a rough couple of years. I have much to think about.
There are times when I have to get this stuff out of the netherworld of my head and into the world of the others.  By the time I am ready to unleash it though,  I have whipped it up into a frothy rant frenzy.
Ahh, Ross.  Since he lives with me, and is usually at hand, he is frequently in the line of fire. That means he is the one who usually bears the brunt of my raves.   It takes merely a spark to ignite my emotional tinderbox.
When I broach a subject which I consider to be of the utmost importance at that particular moment and therefore needs his immediate attention, Ross finds himself in the precarious position of trying to determine  whether or not I am just considering walking out to the ledge.  He tests the waters by trying a sneaky diversion like asking me if I want to go out for lunch or perhaps check out my favorite yarn store.
Sometimes, though, his “Lynda Mood Gauge” is in serious need of recalibrating.   It’s at those times he misreads the barometric atmospheric pressure and is totally unprepared to weather the  intensity of a potentially dangerous devil storm.  My eyes narrow and my brow furrows as I stir the hot bubbling mess around and around.
         Image from Devil Spice
 If he tries to calm the raging currents of the what are normally still waters by using his typically positive upbeat manner, my strange demonic tendencies take over.  By then historically (and hysterically)  nothing short of an exorcism will save me (or him).
An example of a topic which I frequently reflect on is one which also causes me much distress.
In July of this year I had what I consider to be a milestone birthday.   In addition to ruminating on it though,  I am also obsessed with reminding and reiterating this fact to all of those close to me, including and in particular, Ross. 
My newly Medicare Care Card Carrying status prompts a rant which usually starts off like this:
 “You know, I AM 65 years old.  It’s not like I am a 40 year old, I’m 65!”
"Oh, sure ten years ago I cudda done that or wudda wanted to do this, but remember, I am 65.
Then I attempt to rope Ross into my tirade with:
"And you…you are almost 70.”
"I mean how much time do you think we have left?”
When I started out to write this post today, I really wanted to explore my feelings about turning 65. I wanted to ponder how or if it would change my life.  I wanted to examine my perspective on my own “new age”.   I wonder if it will change my outlook on how I might want to live the rest of my life.
My wallet contains quite an extensive collection of cards  coated in plastic which prove that I am truly a senior citizen.  These cards get us into National parks and our local beaches at quite a reduced rate.  When Kohls has their senior sale days, the cashiers don’t even ask if I qualify, they just automatically give me the discount.   Now we “legally” get the senior rate at the movies without any need of proof.
But that is the fluffy stuff of recognizing the time crunch.
In the past 3 years, we have had to say pain filled good byes to too many.   I suppose at my age (Did I mention I am 65?) some would say that is to be expected.  But many of these losses were not the "well he/she live a long good life" kind.  Many were the "it's not fair" kind.
I suspect those painful experiences have caused my more than normal, normal for me that is, introspective restlessness.
Cliches like "you only go round once in life" and "Life is not a dress rehearsal" are the bitter ingredients I stir into my 65 year old cauldron.
My emotional preachings atop my ever present soapbox emanate from the unsteady precipice of uncertainty.  The others who are gone whisper to me,  "Live life to the fullest, for tomorrow may never come."
That's what I'm talkin' about!

I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.
Here are the entries from the past few days of Anna's diary:
Tues. August 6, 1929
Went to Mary's for lunch. Her cousin Mary M and Rose were there.  After leaving there, went to Bambergers to buy a radio for Papa as his gift to mother for the 9th.
Wed. August 7, 1929
Home. Edythe phoned. She was coming up for supper.  Clarence on his vacation at his mohters.  After supper went to Mt. Prospect.  She stayed all night.
Thursday, August 8, 1929
Home. Charlotte here for laundry.  Jewel phoned to give more names to send tickets for banquet.  Went to 360 after supper to see new radio.  Everyone is pleased with it.
Friday, August 9, 1929
Today Mother's birthday. Fifty three.  All gave her gifts at supper table.   Grandma M there to visit. Drove her home and then cam home early.  
Sat. August 10, 1929
Drove Nap girls to see their father at Wagner Farm.  Spent entire day there.  Home about 10.  Very tired and straight to bed.
Sunday, August 11, 1929
Rosalie here over night and she went to church.  Junior and I had late breakfast of pancakes.  About four went to 360 and we drove to Hacketstown to see Flo.

1 comment:

  1. I love the imagery of the bitter cliches in the cauldron. That's one of those magical things about words/writing as a form of expression--you can take nasty stuff and transform it into a manageable (and maybe even useful) form.