I’m well aware that this isn’t exactly the middle of my life. Realistically, that was probably 20 years ago. However, since I intend to live to 120, I claim the middle years. I figure that if Moses could do it, so can I.  He was described as being clear eyed and full of vigor. Insert sexual innuendo there. Wink, wink. Hey, don’t blame me! I learned it in Torah study.  My favorite literature and cartoons promised time travel and flying cars. I’m not leaving until I get to experience both.

Lately, I’ve noticed that I’m engaging in some old person behavior. I yell at people driving too quickly in parking lots. I worry about strangers on motorcycles without helmets. Being around little kids makes me anxious.  I’m prepared to chase them if they dart into the street. More and more, the world is making me nervous. I can appreciate a quiet night at home. Large crowds freak me out. Worst of all, I make sure that I always have an umbrella with me. The other day I told a coworker that I’d rather have the umbrella and it not rain than get wet. Who am I and what the hell happened?

I suppose this is to be expected. According to Antiques Roadshow, I am mid-century Modern. That’s nice in houses and furniture but I’m not sure how I feel about it as a personal description. I still cringe when people call me ma’am and laugh when they call me miss. I’m older than I feel yet the upper middle-aged behavior is increasing daily.  My new guitar strap is embroidered and has a nice hippie vibe. There’s a cool contraption to dry herbs on it’s way. Perhaps I’m regressing a bit since I missed having a mid-life crisis. Don’t get me wrong. There were a lot of crises but none were fun.  I guess I could just let life happen and enjoy it. I’ll just make sure that I have an umbrella.