Why would I care?

Unless I am considering you as a potential ‘romantic’ partner, why on earth would I care what gender you are, or what gender you think you are, or what gender you would like to be.  Or is that what sex you are/think you are/want to be?

Why are people described in news articles as ‘trans man” or ‘trans woman”  when their sex or gender have nothing to do with the content of the story – why isn’t ‘man’ or ‘woman’ sufficient?  Or, hey, even ‘person’.

And why are people now referring to their singular selves in the plural? Oh I get the – “I don’t consider myself either male or female”  I like to be very respectful of how people want to be addressed but there comes a point where it just gets stupid. (And yes, I will go to my grave objecting to being called ‘ms.’ I’m not a manuscript. Nor am I particularly sensitive about my marital status because that’s basically none of your business anyway.)

All this specificity is making me crazy, I can’t keep it all straight (am I allowed to even use the word straight any more even if I’m not talking about gender/sex/identities?)

I think generalizations work just fine. I think neuter nouns work just fine. I think ‘people’ and ‘person’ work just fine. On a daily basis we interact with people in the most casual of  ways – bus driver, store clerk, someone we hold a door for – do we need to know their gender/sex/identity? No – we only need to know they are human beings. And if those casual interactions repeat themselves with the same person on a regular basis but never evolve into something more personal does such information ever need to be shared?  It all falls into the TMI category as far as I’m concerned. (Yes, someone I interact with on a regular but very casual basis saw fit to inform me of their gender/sex status. And my response was – “And you’re telling me this -why? I don’t care”)

Who you are/who you think you are/who you want to be – it’s just not any of my business and I just don’t care. Be whoever you want to be, it’s no skin off my nose, it does not affect my life in any way. Live long and prosper.

And don’t call me Ms.


“Who has seen the wind…

Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by” (Christina Rossetti)

It is cold, icy and the winds are howling. The trees are not so much bowing their heads as whipping them around – in anger? in protest?

It is Noon – in November and the skies are grey and cloudy with a little light peeking through – Me? I’m warm and cozy. Listening to the howls and the tapping of a bit of icy rain on the windows –

It’s a gorgeous day!



As in – I don’t relate to that. No connection.

My husband and I watch shows on the television via streaming – we don’t actually have ‘television’ service any more. And it is getting more and more difficult to find anything to numb our brains with in the evening.

We subscribe to any number of streaming services – Hulu Live because my husband likes the local news, because I have an Amazon Prime account, we have access to Prime video, we also subscribe to Netflix (which we have had since back in the day when they mailed you DVDs), Acorn and Britbox.  And that’s like saying we have “57 channels and nuthin on” .

Why? Because we are not the demographic entertainment companies are interested in reaching. And because I, personally, have no patience for stupidity or for characters who I consider reprehensible or just plain unlikable or, to put it another way – unrelatable. I don’t want to spend my free time with people I don’t like – be they real life person to person interactions or fictional ones.

Even when I was in the target demographic I had no patience for any shows that featured characters that fell into any of the categories listed above. For example:

Seinfeld – Started in 1989, I was 43, maybe a bit older than the target audience, but I was also single and living in New York City. To me these were the most annoying people ever. I worked with these people, I dated these people and trust me when I say, the characters in Seinfeld were not the least bit fictional.

As I’m writing this and thinking about well known tv shows, I am coming to the conclusion that I was never in the right demographic at the right time. Oh possibly back in the 1950’s I might have been – I was the right age for Howdy Doody!

I want to spend my time with people I care about. Even if those people are often greatly flawed their humanity touches me in some way.

But wait – the real point is – a few posts ago I wrote “The basic pitfalls of being a human don’t seem to change. And the ways to avoid them and deal with their aftermath only change in the particulars.”  And that’s where relatability comes in.

I don’t want to watch tv shows or movies dealing with teenage angst – been there, done that. The particular ways have changed, bullying and taunting via apps or the internet vs. bullying and taunting through things like slam books – same feelings, same meanness, just a different delivery system.

20,30,40-something angst – same problems, same feelings as when I was that age, the only difference was in the specifics. Y’all want to talk about ‘Me, too”. Come to Mama honey, the tales I could tell. Or relationships – people don’t change, honest they don’t. Humanity has not evolved – we are still hurting each in the same way now as when we lived in caves. We are still facing the same problems and questions at each stage of life regardless of the century we have lived in.

So I should be relating to all these tv shows/movies, right? No – because – been there, done that, I have no interest in reliving it.

I started out writing a rant about the state of entertainment these days and I circled right back to “ask me if I care’. Back to “been there, done that, nothing changes, you’ll live”.  And being inundated by it everywhere I turn.

I’m old. I’m tired. I am no longer licking my wounds, they have scarred over leaving thickened skin. I have a long past and a short future and I simply don’t want to feel your pain, or relive mine. I want nice and fluffy. I want love and kindness and happy endings. I want to laugh with you, not at you.

Love and happiness – as joyful and fragile as a red balloon



Because procrastination is my real name

It’s 4:20 on Saturday afternoon. I have pissed away the day thusly –

~ I got out of bed around 8:15am – Don’t be envious that I slept in, I didn’t actually get to sleep until around 4:30am.

~ Read the paper including all the Sunday supplements which, for some strange reason we get on Saturdays. Ate breakfast. Cleaned out email. Browsed through the real estate listings I get via email. Set up the bathroom for my husband’s shower. Supervised his shower.

~ 11:45-ish I  take my shower and dress for the day.

~ 12:30pm – I have lunch, read some blogs, delete some more email. Pay some bills, transfer some money. Clean up the bookkeeping spreadsheets. Order some Thanksgiving presents.

~ 2:30 – I decide I need to work on my Christmas cards –

2 hours later (it is now 4:35pm) I’m here procrastinating because I still have to –

~ Make the bed

~Scoop kitty litter


~ Grate a wedge of cheese

~ Clean up the kitchen

All before 6pm when I have to start making dinner…Which, come to think of it, I have plenty of time.  I think I may just sit awhile and stare out the window and watch the sun set…

Neat and tidy makes me happy

I am a bit compulsive when it comes to making things neat and tidy. I suppose, deep down, it is my way of being in control of my environment, since there is so little we are actually in control of in life.

My husband uses sweet ‘n low in his coffee. He keeps a supply in a small sugar bowl next to the coffee pots. I buy the packets in a 1500 count box and he re-fills the sugar bowl as necessary, just jams in as many packets as he can, any old kinda way.


While he was incapacitated and I had to do everything, I refilled the sugar bowl MY way. Which is to say, a neat and tidy way.

Yesterday he was about to refill the sugar bowl with packets and I piped up “Oh let me do it!”


I quite enjoy taking a handful of packets out of the big box, straightening them all up and then tucking them into the sugar bowl – all neat and tidy. This makes me happy.

Old People’s Humour

Stole this from FB – rather fitting since FB is an old person’s hang out (or so they tell me)…

The 16 Commandments of Growing Old

#1 – Talk to yourself, because there are times you need expert advice.

#2 – Consider “In Style” to be the clothes that still fit.

#3 – You don’t need anger management. You need people to stop irritating you.

#4 – Your people skills are just fine. It’s your tolerance for idiots that needs work.

#5 – The biggest lie you tell yourself is, “I don’t need to write that down. I’ll remember it.”

#6 – You have days when your life is just a tent away from a circus.

#7 – These days, “on time” is when you get there.

#8 – Even duct tape can’t fix stupid – but it sure does muffle the sound.

#9 – Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could put ourselves in the dryer for ten minutes, then come out wrinkle-free and three sizes smaller ?

#10 – Lately, You’ve noticed people your age are so much older than you.

#11 – “Getting lucky” means walking into a room and remembering why you’re there.

#12 – When you were a child, you thought nap time was punishment. Now it feels like a mini vacation.

#13 – Some days you have no idea what you’re doing out of bed.

#14 – You thought growing old would take longer.

#15 – Aging sure has slowed you down, but it hasn’t shut you up.

#16 – You still haven’t learned to act your age, and hope you never will.

Personally, I’m very fond of #8.  Tho #’s 3 and 4 kinda hark back to my previous post.

Or maybe it’s just me

You know what the fun part of being older is – you just don’t give a damn anymore. You finally reach the point where you are, as they say nowadays, your ‘authentic self’.

What’s that line from “Me and Bobby McGee” – “Freedom’s just another word for nuthin’ left to lose” – Certainly for most of us older folks that line holds a different meaning than in the song because you get to a certain age and dignity has gone out the door, and slammed it in your face.

Freedom to be whoever you think you are, or wanna be; to say what you truly feel (oh hell another song lyric) but not be unkind. See that’s where a lot of old folks get annoying. They think age gives them some sort of right to be unkind, opinionated in a very derogatory way. Some will, when called out on it, plead old age and senility when old age is their only status. The senility claim, when it isn’t true, is unkind to those who do suffer from it.

I’ve used the word ‘unkind’ several times now, and there are many synonyms, some extreme in their negativity that I can’t even relate to.

I am by nature and genetics a sarcastic person, and sarcasm can easily be experienced as unkindness (and maybe it is, no matter who, what or where). Just typing that makes me think maybe I should watch that aspect of my personality but you know some people…

And there you go – It is NOT easy being kind all the time, to everyone, in every situation. And unkindness is not always what you think it might be. I have very specific examples in mind which are all long stories in themselves and that’s not where I was going when I started writing this.

I read a lot of ‘stuff’ by 20, 30 and 40-somethings. These articles/essays are all about them (of course) and their Encounters with Life. What amuses me to no end is that every 20, 30, 40 something in the past century has had most of those same encounters. I read these essays and think to myself, sarcastically, “Oh you poor baby! Been there, done that, you’ll live.” And then they give advice – how to deal with these ‘encounters’ – basically re-inventing the wheel, because us old folks, well we figured all that out when we were 20, 30, 40-something. But I guess every generation has to come to the same conclusions on their own.

The basic pitfalls of being a human don’t seem to change. And the ways to avoid them and deal with their aftermath only change in the particulars.

Well this has meandered all over the place – it’s my ping ball brain – I get a thought and then it bounces to another thought which ricochets off another, and all of sudden…pinball_ball_ricochet_hg_clr

I do think if I ever corralled my thoughts, and dare I say, insights, into seperate, distinct essays I could be a rich and famous motivational writer. But – that’s never gonna happen because I have little interest in being a motivational writer. Nor do I really think my insights and advice are any more, or less, worthy than anyone elses. I’m happy to bounce along just being me.

And because, you know, I just don’t give a damn what you think of me. And that’s my advice to all y’all – try, to the best of your ability and practicality, (let’s not leave out practicality, ’cause if you’re young and still making a life and career for yourself, not giving a damn could be detrimental, I am nothing if not pragmatic) to not give a damn what people think of you. (Oh hell that is a long convoluted sentence which I should edit but I won’t).

Freedom comes at a price that you have to be willing to pay – or you can just wait till you get old.