The Broad Running Broad

Do you remember in my last post when I said I was going to take the past week as a rest week? I did, and wound up surprising myself yesterday by sleeping in until 9:30.

I never sleep in that late, unless I’m pretty sick. I woke up to find Marina curled up on her pillow beside me, and my phone had a few missed messages from Mom. On one hand, if I slept that late I definitely needed it. On the other, sleeping in completely throws me off, so even if it is good for me, I don’t really like to do it. Half of my day is already over.

The winds are shifting directions over here, Reader-friends. Since I’m permanently remote at work, I’ve discovered when I do go outside for errands, I don’t really like it anymore. Mainly having to drive if I want to get anywhere. Are people crazier, treating freeways like the Formula 1 race track at all hours? Or is going 60 during rush hour and heavy traffic too slow?

I had a hankering for Bush’s baked beans, so I picked up two cans a couple weeks back and cracked open a can on Saturday night to go with my dinner. The cans are pretty big, but seeing it all dumped into the pan on the stove? It was … Surprising, to put it mildly. I grew up on Bush’s and remember a bigger yield per can way back when. I’ve been doing that a lot more lately, comparing serving sizes of today to back then and wondering where the food went. The bean footage wasn’t that beautiful.

Also on Saturday, I spent the afternoon at the pool. It was an otherwise relaxing, pleasant day. One thing to note is that my apartment complex is pretty strict about making sure residents and non-residents don’t abuse pool privileges. Two guests per resident and management does check wristbands, so if you don’t have them with you or aren’t supposed to be there, you’ll be asked to leave.

A group came in. I’m not sure if it was a mother or a big sister babysitting, but right off the bat the leader was being loud and profane. I’m not going to pretend I’ve never dropped a few myself, but the way she was speaking to the younger kids with her was uncalled for and frankly set everyone else on edge. One of the kids floated a little too far away on the floaty and holy crap, the leader flew into a rage. Screaming, extremely profane, making everyone else stop what they were doing to watch. I think a few of us were expecting her to strike a kid. It was unnerving and also, frankly, pathetic. All that noise and combativeness for what exactly?

Thankfully band check came right after the screaming fit. One of the residents quietly said something to the property manager and the group was kicked out. Turns out they were breaking the guest cap rule and didn’t have their bands. The atmosphere was far lighter once they left. Meanwhile, all I could focus on – and this may be petty, but I don’t care – was the profanity. I’m really noticing lately how folks are so free to use some of the heavier sweat words and it’s so off-putting. Does everything need to include the f-word and slurs? Of all the words in the English language you can use, the profane ones are the only ones you go with?

I realize the profanity part could easily devolve into the old “it’s just a word” argument by heavy swearers, so I’m just going to leave it with two final things: 1.) “Freedom of speech” (because someone always references it when they get called out) only refers to government persecution. It doesn’t mean I can’t think you’re tacky and 2.) If it is just a word, then it shouldn’t be too hard to not use it in front of mixed company when you don’t know them personally and don’t know everyone’s tolerance levels. Having a little respect for strangers has never pulled any skin from anyone’s nose.

And now we get to Saturday night with the funnel cake and lemon shaker.

I decided to go to a festival one of my old friend’s was performing at, and had a hankering for a funnel cake since I haven’t had one of those in forever. While I was in line I decided to get the lemon shaker since I was going to need something to drink.

Now, I know the proceeds all went to support the church/school the festival was held at. However, I do not remember a funnel cake and lemon shaker ever costing $17 at any fairs I went to pre-2020.

The funnel cake was delicious. Then I got halfway through and had to pause. Once upon a time I could scarf that deep-fried, sugarcoated goodness all down by myself in record time. But on that fated Saturday night, I had to tap out.

It was too sweet.

I never thought I’d see the day where I’d prefer the lemon shaker to a funnel cake, but there I was. Realizing I didn’t have the stomach of yesteryear. And also realizing I forgot to grab a napkin and had a nice dusting of powdered sugar on my sundress.

Reader-friends, looking back at the past few days, I couldn’t help but wonder: am I getting old, like all the adults I knew as a kid who couldn’t tolerate a lot of sugar, who were sensitive to loud noises and don’t/didn’t like to go out much? I …. think I’ve turned into one of Those Old People.

And I don’t think I’m too surprised or disappointed by it?

I’d love to have something deep and meaningful to say about the transformations going on within me, but frankly, I’m a little bummed to lose my sweet tooth and iron stomach. I never thought of “old” and 31 going together, yet here I am chugging water so I don’t have indigestion and getting ready to take my nightly multivitamin.

Might as well call it a night and start hunting for some Golden Girls reruns.

Yours in life and (now) getting older,

Allison