The Midlife

I’m dedicating this blog post to the miscellaneous stuff on my mind lately. Here goes my listicle.

1. Next Sunday is my daughter’s 8th birthday party. I’m not sure why birthday party planning is on par with wedding planning for me. Somehow it is. However, I will say that this go-around, my husband has taken a greater lead, and I am less stressed overall. As the RSVPs started rolling in, I received an invitation to a family friend’s surprise 60th birthday bash. As I contemplate what to get my friend (although I can’t go to the party), a lively discussion resulted with someone. Said someone thought a gift for a 60th birthday party seemed presumptuous and unnecessary. I debated otherwise. I mean, who doesn’t like presents? Isn’t that as universal as apple pie and lower back pain? Then, I started thinking about what I would envision in the party planning of my 60th birthday. Definitely a bounce house. Karaoke. Metamucil in the punch bowl. Party favors would be a gift bag with a single Poise pad or Depend, a sample size of Ibuprofen, and a sample size of antacids and Fixodent.

2. October brings the spooky season. It’s one of my favorites, by far. In honor of the Halloween spirit, I started watching the TV series Yellowjackets, mainly because I absolutely love actress Melanie Lynskey. (She’s been in a gazillion things, and when you see her face, you’ll agree. Gee, she’s been in a gazillion things.) It’s incredibly good and scary and thought-provoking. We follow a celebrated soccer team flying to their national competition. The plane crashes somewhere in the northern wilderness, and they are left to scavenge for about 19 months. The story bounces from 1996 to 2021 as we learn the impact of this traumatic experience on their lives and friendships. Wow. A must-see.

3. My mother is visiting in exactly 19 days. All I needed to know was Mommy’s Coming, to send me to work. Yesterday, I went into stealth Operation Purge and Clean. For about four hours, I went through my closet, bedroom, kid’s bedroom, and sifted through stuff resulting in five bags and three boxes of exiting blah-blahs. Plus, I ended up with a human-sized garbage bag, and two container-sized trips to the recycling bins. I am forever in awe over the things people save and find difficult to part with. I’m so guilty. But I’m working on it. In my mind, I’m preparing for living in a tiny home. And while that probably won’t happen for me, I do feel lighter.

4. You look like you have been working very hard, said my neighbor. I won’t go into it very far, but I suspect he was telling me that I looked tired. That’s not me being self-conscious. It’s more about dumb things people say to people, although they may have good intentions. Dear Dumb Neighbor Specifically and the Universe Generally: Never tell a woman she looks tired. The end.