Why Rat Me Out?

I'm eating a great meal with girls at a nice artsy place on the mall. Its all part of the book club my daughter belongs too, an exclusive affair consisting of five brilliant beautiful women. It just so happens this month they chose to read Wild, by Cheryl Strayed.

This memoir is about a woman hiking the Pacific Crest Trail is segments over a three month period. She begins in the Mohave Desert, skips snowbound High Sierras, heads into northern California, makes it to the Hat Creek Rim, skips up to Oregon where she makes it to the Bridge of the Gods. See, that's what enticed me about the book. The woman spoke to my heart. I remember those places, cut my trail teeth in the desert, gained my trail name, earned my ultralighter's stripes.

We enjoyed a decadent desert while discussing the where's and whys of such an adventure, then the bills came and they ratted me out. Come on ladies! Don't go asking if there's an AARP discount for yours truly. I can deal with this. God help me, I am still the through hiker I was of yore, and don't need reminding of my pending senior citizenship.

I don't want the waitress looking at me like that, like maybe I need a doggie bag for the rest of that ultra rich Elvis Presely Cup Cake from Hell. I will finish it, by god, if I have to use the bathroom twice. Sheesh.

OK, thats enough ranting. All I know is I've gotta take another long walk, soon. And you young beautiful things? Don't even go there, asking if I get any discounts on my plane tickets!

Changes and Latitudes

How come us older folks get tired so quickly? I mean, I used to have energy pouring out my pores.

I guess at some point we have to change.

After our moms birth us, we sleep, cry, eat, defecate (poop).
Eventually that period ends, and we get to go to school.

Then, get married, raise kids.
Maybe theres a post raising kid period where we do some crazy remake. I did that.

Now, we're sorta into the "retirement" phase, like, buy a home, settle down into the neighborhood, raise a garden, play with all my grand kids.

What's next?

Don't even go there. I doubt there will be a rocking chair phase.
Someone once told me a famed actor was told to go make another terrific movie. His answer? All I want to do is sit down and eat ice cream.

Says a lot. I can see his point.

Sometimes I Forget!

Its been quite a while since I ranted here. My excuse? I forgot I had this blog!

Ok, give me a break, you might be thinking over coffee and a doughnut, you forgot you had a place to tell people  about all the jerks out there dissing us old ladies?
Well, I ain't really THAT old.

Its hard to find a guy that meets my perfect needs, that's how old I am.
I went dancing. A nice grey haired guy asks me to dance. He's a great dancer, he knows some good moves. We enjoyed quite a few slow ones together, and he can boogie as well. But, I'm on the look out for a guy I can't hurt. And I don't mean emotionally. I'll hurt a few more before the grave, I'm sure. And I'll be hurt a few more times as well.


I'm talking about a guy who can handle my 5'2" frame, 110 pounds, physically and not break down. I need someone who can twirl me around without going into cardiac arrest. So, after a few dances on the floor, I realized this wonderful elderly gentleman was too old for me. He asked me out, started getting a little too touchy feely.

I made my exit, crossed the casino and found a "disco" digital party in progress. Humping, grinding, dirty dancing, getting down, the crowd was moving. Within minutes, a nice young man had me out there, and we did moves that my mom should never see. He claims I taught him. I declined to take any credit. He wanted my number, and where to find me. Humm, but, the guy is too young, I'm sure of it. I'm sure he can't be over 30, yet I never asked. He fits the sturdy profile, but I'm leery of youngsters. Once we get out of that perfect lighting, I'm not going to be feeling so hot anymore.

Well, page forward and I met another dude, maybe just 15 years younger. Still, he must have been drunk. He's tall, very strong, a romantic dance partner (damn good time, I'll do it again) and fits the bill in every way, except, a little young. We have a date for the weekend.

God, I don't think I'm a cougar....

Sometimes I forget my own age, where this blog is and what guys want.
Party on.