Warning: the following post is written by Candid Blogger. Read at your own risk.
We drove down the country road toward home. I had Elvis Costello on Pandora Radio on my phone the other day, plugged in my truck. David Bowie's "Let's Dance" came on, and I started dancing and driving (of course, how can you NOT when Bowie comes on?).
My 11 year old daughter, Sophie, looks over at me from the passenger's seat as if I have three heads.
I embarrass her. Then Madness came on, "Our house, in the middle of our street..." and Sophie rolls her eyes and looks at me again above the rim of her glasses with that eyes-in-the-roof-of-her-forehead look so indicative of pre-teens.
"WHY are we listening to EIGHTIES music?" she whines.
I have arrived at this point in life where some days, I am "middle aged." The point where I embarrass my children, where they give me fashion advice. I feel I have "jowls" for the first time in my life. I feel old. I see my skin changing. I wake in the morning and my body hurts in places it never hurt before. Like the Pink Floyd song, some days I am comfortably numb in so many ways.
Is THIS just what HAPPENS????
Personally, most people think my life is fairly exciting. And it is, during any time other than August.
This mood seems to hit to me more during the "dog days of summer." I'm sorry, but it's just dang hot! The hottest summer I can remember in years. Days like this, when it reaches 85 by 10 a.m., I hibernate like a bear in winter. I find comfort in food and shopping.
Please God, just let it be September so I can start fall training and listen to "80's music" on my ipod in peace?
* The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, written by T.S. Eliot, can be read in its entirety here