I Find Photos of Your Hand Offensive and By The Way, I’m Old
with the ugly hand who takes way too many photos of her left hand has struck again! Gah! There was also the cheesiest caption about her “best friend” AKA the “hubby.” Oh, by the way, the term hubby really annoys me. Annoys me like the term “lady lumps” is so effing annoying. Don’t mind me, I’m just ranty because I’m old.
Speaking of old, I’m really open about telling people my age but mostly because I look pretty young. I get mistaken for being a student a lot. Our intern recently found out my age and it shocked her just a bit. I asked her what made her think that I’m younger than my 30 some odd years. Turns out it was kind of because of my maturity level. Huh. And here I thought I was all professional and shit. It’s starting to bother me that I have to start marking off the next age bracket in surveys. Have you ever taken notice of those surveys? All the “young” ages are grouped in 5 year increments but as soon as you hit 30 you’re lumped in with everyone else who’ve hit whatever decade you’re in. What’s worse is when I can’t remember how old I am and I have to do a quick calculation. And then you hit those marital status questions. There’s one option for the singles: “Single, never married.” It sounds so final and definite and let’s face it, a bit pathetic. But partnered up people have all these other options like “widowed,” “common law,” and “divorced.” How come I don’t get the “recently single,” “single for a few years,” “single by choice” options?
Is There Such A Thing As A Non-Crazy Grandma?
My gammy hasn’t been feeling well lately so she’s been on my mind quite a bit. She’s something like 4 feet nothing (gee, I wonder where I got the short gene from considering practically everyone else in the family is normal human size), 50 pounds soaking wet, somewhere around the age of 80 (I really have no clue how old she is, I don’t think she even knows how old she is – no record keeping when she was young) and, bless her, she is one of the strongest women I know. She and my grandpa have been married for 60+ years and they have been together since their teens. They lived through a war, hid from invaders, and came to Canada with my mom, aunts and uncle with very little. Grandpa is much taller than Gammy and doesn’t say much – he’s the silent type and as much as Gammy says it, I don’t think Grandpa is deaf; he just has selective hearing. It’s the secret to a long marriage, you know.
Gammy was a wee fashionista back in her day. She had the super bouffant, wore mini-skirts and platform shoes. Me, I’m the total opposite. Give me my sneakers and jeans. My entire being is a faux pas and I dress like it. I don’t like to shop. I let my friends dress me because I’m not a girly girl (I’m not butch either so I guess that makes me… androgynous???). A few times a year Gammy will tell me I need to wear cleavage shirts. “Show some skin,” she says. “You got it, flaunt it.” Yeah… if I didn’t feel like it was choking me I’d wear a dickie under my mandarin collar, long sleeve shirt. My mom is very close to Gammy… actually Mom is close to her entire family which really has nothing to do with this but at some point I’ll write about my other family members. OK, so, Mom and Gammy have a close mother-daughter relationship and they’re super similar except for a few points like, strangely enough, how low-cut my tops are. The way I dress is pretty conservative unless I’m off to a special occasion when I do wear clothing that’s a bit more uh… “daring.” A few years ago I bought a dress for my friend’s wedding. I really like that dress. It’s an empire style which, as most gals will know, is a fairly flattering style on most body types. My friend’s wedding was a buffet and I was going to eat till I passed out. Empire dresses are second to maternity pants when it comes to buffets. My mom saw the dress my closet, decided it was too low-cut and proceeded to add a button to the bust for me. That button became a very good topic of discussion but I think perhaps people just wanted to stare at my chest.
Gammy tends to be featured a lot in the stories I tell my friends. She tried to set me up once. It did not turn out well. This story for another day. Stars love the lady but every time I see her she tells me it’s time to find a boyfriend – like it’s that easy! She has told me to go to church but not to worship. And no, not to pray for a boyfriend (I’m starting to think my life is a cosmic joke). Oh no, church is apparently a good place to meet men. Uh… I have not heard this theory before but it seems that quite a few of my friends have tested this. Nope, I don’t think any of my friends have met their spouses through church. Every time she asks me why I’m not dating the guy she likes, my response is “I don’t like him that way.” Gammy then proceeds point out his assets and I don’t mean assets like he’s caring, funny, or even that he has a nice package. When I say assets I mean assets like he has a car, he owns his own home, he has a good job, etc.
Looking for a partner through church segues quite nicely in this international topic. There’s a new religious leader out there. Congrats to Pope Francis for getting this very difficult job. Because I live very close to Washington I occassionally watch Seattle news. I just happen to be watching KOMO news and there were a few bullet points highlighting the qualities of the new pope. The one that caught my eye was that he’s humble. OK, cool because you can’t have an inflated head if you’re in that particular position. I had a moment of eye-squinty disbelief though because the reason KOMO says he’s humble is because he takes public transit to work. Um… so do I. I take public transit at least twice daily. So… I guess that makes me humble too (don’t look at the Louboutin’s in my closet… oh wait, that’s cardboard cut-out of Louboutins in my closet). Yay, me? This audio of Moe from The Simpsons pretty much sums up how I feel about my bus pass: