Tag Archives: getting old

No Pain, No Gain (or Hell as We Call It)

In an attempt to keep myself healthy and fit, I started seeing a naturopathic doctor (N.D.) who specializes in a more holistic approach to wellness. I guess you can also say that I was getting tired of prescription drug-pushing western medicine doctors. I figured that if I have the ability to drive a car while simultaneously curling my eyelashes, applying eyeliner and lipstick, texting, and eating a breakfast sandwich, I must also have the ability to heal myself naturally.

I’ve gotten all these great vitamins to take to stay healthy. They are natural supplements made up of ingredients like stuff that tastes like crap arabic gum, beet root, and some random animal parts… but I swear to you, they work.

Nothing like starting the day with some A-F Betafood. And yes, these are for me, not for my pet fish.

The other day, the hubby had a stomach ache, and the Tums tablets weren’t working. So, I came to the rescue and gave him a few of my natural digestive supplements:

Me: “Take the pills. I swear you’ll feel much better.”

Mike: “I don’t want to take that crap.”

Me: “Just take them, and stop being a baby.”

Mike (taking a couple pills out of my hand and smelling them): “Ugh! They smell like an outhouse on a tuna boat.”

Me: “Oh quit whining, and take them already.”

Mike (chewing the pills slowly): “These are nasty! What are these supposed to be?!”

Me: “I don’t know. Some natural stuff. Like kale and cow thyroid glands. Just drink some water to wash it down.”

Mike: “These are seriously disgusting. It’s like I’m eating horse manure out of an ashtray.”

Me: “You’ve done worse.”

Mike (pointing to the bottle of pills): “I’m never eating those again.”

Me: “Fine. I’ll be the only one who stays healthy in this house from taking these vitamins.”

Mike (with one eyebrow raised): “Mmm hmm… says the woman who washes down her vitamins with beer.”

*Silence*

Mike: “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Well played, husband. Well played. I just hope my N.D. isn’t reading this blog post right now, or I’m in big trouble.

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Filed under Chronicles of Marriage

It’s My Birthday, and I’ll Cry if I Want To

Aaah birthday… we meet again.

Hey birthday, after I’m done beating up this copy machine, you’re next!

Birth·day noun (ˈbərth-ˌdā)—definition: an event to commemorate not doing anything particularly noteworthy in the past 12 months since the last birthday, and now being one step closer to death.

 

Or something like that.

In my family, as in many others, birthday tradition dictated that the birthday boy or girl got to have the cake of their choice and make a birthday wish while blowing out a candle. My parents always had an overabundant supply of cake mix and candles on hand for birthdays, including those annoying trick candles that continued to relight themselves after being blown out.

I really hated those stupid candles. Even with my face right next to the cake, forcing my breath to a maximum velocity, I could never trump those things. My family and friends also tried to help me blow them out to no avail. As far as I was concerned, blowing out trick birthday candles could have qualified as an Olympic sport.

We ended up having to throw the candles in a cup of water to keep them from relighting, and people didn’t even want to eat the cake anymore since the frosting was undoubtedly covered in a smorgasbord of spit and other projectiles.

I suppose it could have been worse. I could have gotten an Eggo waffle with a votive candle or a cigarette in it for my birthday instead, accompanied by a disappointing last minute gift such as a can of Campbell’s Soup wrapped in newspaper.

Aaaw, how thoughtful! You shouldn’t have!

 

In retrospect, I’ve been very fortunate and thankful that my family made such a big deal out of birthdays.

The other night, as my birthday evening was winding down, I realized that I had yet to blow out a candle and eat cake. In anticipation of my birthday grand finale and years of tradition, I asked the hubby “Ooo, what kind of cake did you get me?!”

He looked at me with a bewildered, deer in the headlights kind of look and replied: “Yeeah. I kinda forgot the cake this time, but there’s a half a tomato in the fridge.”

I threw my hands up in the air, waved them dramatically, and exclaimed: “Wha- what?! Are you for real?! You’re putting my candle in a week-old Roma tomato?!”

And so the night went cakeless.

Don’t worry. Although he forgot the cake, the hubby did present me with a candle in a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s along with concert tickets to see Lady Antebellum, Thompson Square and Darius Rucker, thereby redeeming himself and saving all of us from having to split a moldy tomato.

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Proof that My Coolness Hit Its Peak Years Ago

1)      These days, my weekly house chores comprise sweeping up pet hair. And, at times, the clumps of hair are large enough to be mistaken for another pet entirely. Enough said.

2)      I have developed an unhealthy obsession with Brad Paisley, which I think sadly has much to do with the fact that his name is Paisley, I like paisley, and he has a guitar adorned with paisley. Paisley, paisley, paisley. Oh yeah, and he also happens to be very easy on the eyes, unlike actual paisley. This is obviously a problem. I would want to see his face much less if he looked more like Steve Buscemi.

3)      I still say BFF. Apparently I missed the memo that announced the transition from BFF to bestie. I’m all about the BF, BFF, BFE and anything else that starts with the letter bacon. FYI- anyone who follows my blog is an automatic BFF in my book.

4)      I just bought an old, badass minivan to fit all the pets, the husband, and me.

Check out my sweet ride.
Photo courtesy of crazycar.com.

I am kidding, of course.

I got you all with that one, though, didn’t I?

In reality, the chances of me buying a minivan are about as low as my chances for hitting the lottery, and my willpower to stop myself from excessive pancake consumption.

5)      After finding this van picture, I actually found myself contemplating how cool it would be if I had one exactly like it, just so I could name it Kermit or Shrek.

 

?

Okay, who the hell is the funny guy who typed a question mark at end end of my blog post?

That one’s for you Ron Burgundy. And Cassie Behl, who reminded me to laugh today with that Anchorman video. 🙂 http://cassiebehle.wordpress.com/2012/04/12/adversity-its-not-just-a-city-in-adver/

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Filed under Silva Nuggets (Random)

Late-Night Epiphany: Everyone Gets Old

Cat Tested, Cat Approved
Cat Tested, Cat Approved

The other night I was sitting at home, having a phone conversation with Mike while he was standing in the pet food aisle at the grocery store. After 20 minutes of bickering about different types of cat chow, I came to the realization that we’re both getting old.

This is a snippet of our conversation:

Me: “Buuut honey, even though it’s bacon and egg flavored, I don’t think Samuel will enjoy the special adult food. It’s just not as tasty as the other kind. Don’t you think?”
Mike: “I don’t think they care. It says on the bag it’s cat tested and cat approved. It’s probably good.”
Me: “They all say cat tested, cat approved. You know they don’t like the surf and turf that says it’s cat tested, cat approved.”
Mike: “Yeah, that’s true. Let’s get the 9 Lives dry food with salmon, chicken and beef flavors then. We haven’t tried it before, and they like the 9 Lives wet can food.”

Any doubts I ever had about us getting old were completely dispelled. We’re definitely getting old.

Here are 10 signs that you too are getting old:

1- You have detailed discussions with your partner about the best types of cat and dog food.
2- Instead of going out to a night club, you’d rather spend a quiet night at home watching Netflix movies and sipping a glass of wine.
3- You refer to clubs as night clubs.
4- You start nodding off around 9 or 10 pm, but you never even used to leave the house until that time.
5- You also can’t sleep in past 8 or 9 am. In fact, you’re wide awake by 6 or 7 am, and looking for a wholesome breakfast.
6- If it takes you more than 20 to 30 minutes to get somewhere, you him-and-haw about the “long” drive.
7- When you go out with a group of people, conversations regularly revert to topics such as: colicky kids, benefits of breastfeeding, investments, insurance, and the status of the nation’s economy.
8- When you actually drag yourself out to places like a hip, new Vegas club or concert with your friends or kids, you end up feeling like a grandparent lost on a grade school campus. Why does everyone else look like they’re 10 years old?
9- You have a nice kitchen, and you actually use it… for cooking real meals, not just mixing cocktails.
10- You don’t get carded as much as you used to when you buy alcohol, and you start getting called “Sir, Ma’am, Mr. and Mrs.” by younger people in the customer service and hospitality industries. This really ticks you off, and you’d like to smack them, but you don’t. That would just be wrong, because you’re a mature, law-abiding citizen.

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Filed under Silva Nuggets (Random)