As for Kati and me, we all but wore the letters off the Scrabble tiles. The guys were interested in more intellectual pursuits, so the four of us also played quite a few rounds of Fact or Crap? and Dirty Minds. (Yes, those games are every bit as sophisticated as they sound.)
Lots of fun. Come to think of it, the only thing we didn't get much of was... sleep. And ya know what? We don't bounce back from a string of 4AM nights nearly as well as we used to. Funny how that works. Dammit.
We spent one day at a verrrrrrry cool museum. Can anybody guess what it was from this picture?
(I'll tell you all about it in a later post.)
For now, I'm gonna share an excerpt from a post that first ran in April of 2011, with the title Age is Just a Number. (Why yes, I am feeling a little tired and oldish about now... thanks so much for pointing that out. But I'll betcha I'd perk right up if somebody pulled out a Scrabble board...)
Thought for the day: How can I possibly be "over the hill" when I never made it to the top?
Sometimes, I actually forget how old I am. I mean, no matter how old you are on the outside, don't you still feel young on the inside? So what if the outside doesn't look as good as it did twenty, thirty, forty years ago? I say, avoid those lying mirrors! Got some sagging parts? Parts that swing? Eat until the wrinkles fill out! OK, so it may be a little more difficult to deny the creep of age after Uncle Sam starts sending you those thank-you-God-life-is-good social security checks every month, but for that, I have two little words of advise: direct deposit. (Why be reminded?)
Alas, there are times when the tra-la-la-la I'm still young inner child gets a solid kick in the teeth. The best thing to do then is spit out the blood and have a good laugh about it.
So, pbbbt! Don't let aging get you down. For one thing, it's too damned hard to get back up again, but mostly, it's because this really can be a terrific time of life. So enjoy it! Let me remind you that no matter what her age, any woman can have the body of a 21-year-old, if that's really what she wants. But (Bada-boom!) she may have to buy him a few drinks first. And ladies, as much as we've grumbled over the years about men not looking at our faces when they're talking to us, it's a little reassuring to know that, even at my age, men are still looking at my boobs. (So what if they have to squat first?)
How about you? Is there sometimes a disconnect between the real you and what the calendar tries to tell you? Can you laugh about it? After all, we don't stop laughing because we get old; we get old because we stop laughing.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.