Halfway there and Memorial Day memories, 2010
And suddenly I find myself in that weird age group called middle aged. Somewhere between this:
I still more or less feel like this:
So when that AARP thing came in the mail box I’m, ”like who the fuck you mailing to, ME?? I don’t think so.” But I particularly got to thinking this weekend (about age and such) when I should have been thinking things Memorial (which I did).
That being said, I tried to have a minute of peace without dogs, or daughters, up at the Doral Arrowwood only to be interrupted by planes (every 15 minutes), trains (joking) and fire alarms (yes at 1 in the AM I was standing in my sleeping jersey , a sweat shirt and shorts with ex-Yankee baseball player, Paul O’Neill- And I hate Yankees) because someone was smoking in a non-smoking room (so because of that I got $25 off my next stay, would you go?) At last today, I’m getting 5 minutes of peace and quiet at the pool and this lady who is in her golden years starts talking about her doctor’s appointments and her ailments and then starts burping and she says, ”I hope its not my pancreas.” And am like “give me the headsets to drown out the noise of Westchester.” And after a moment I think, “I hope its not her pancreas either.”