On New Year’s Eve, old age, and the alternative

I’m not crazy about New Year’s Eve.

I have trouble staying up until midnight; I don’t like to eat and drink that late at night; I never feel differently when the “ball drops,” and it reminds me that I’m getting old.

I guess we all are.

Somebody once said, “The only time you’re not getting older is when you’re dead.” Lovely sentiment, but it’s true. From the moment you’re born, until the moment you die, you’re getting older.

Wow. I bet those of you still reading are glad you started this column.

When you’re young, old age and all the accompanying aches and pains that come with it, seem so far away and you just put it out of your mind. What’s amazing to me is that I didn’t realize old age hurts! I just thought people got wrinkles and couldn’t run as fast. No big deal. I’m not that vain.

I didn’t realize you couldn’t run as fast because your joints and muscles ached. And they ache and slow down because they’re old.

Like the pistons in my 10-year old car, they wear out.

And just like my old car, that I have to take to “the shop” more and more often, the older it gets, I’m starting to do the same with this body God gave me. Substitute “the shop” for the “doctor’s office” — or the dentist—I just had a crown fall out!

Below the corners of my mouth, I’m starting to resemble my bulldog more and more. There seems to be a turkey “waddle” under my chin. My lipstick sometimes seeps into the cracks above my lips when it doesn’t make it onto a tooth or two. My eyeliner drifts off. When I’m done putting on my makeup, I think I sometimes look like Heath Ledger’s Joker in that Batman movie.

My body is like a snowman, halfway through the melting process. It’s shorter and wider!

I won’t even mention what age has done to my sphincter muscles. Sheesh!

And my back—aye yi yi!

It takes me longer to do things. I used to whip up a dinner for friends, making all the courses and cleaning the house all in one day. Now I have to think about inviting people for a day or two, clean the house for a day, make the dessert on another day, and set the table on the day before. Then clean the house again.

When we go out to eat, I like to eat before six o’clock. Those early bird, or “Sunset” dinners, suit me just fine. By the time I get home, my hangover is done and my food is digested.

When I was young, I used to love to go to the latest new restaurant and pay a zillion dollars for a meal. Now, I love those buffet places. Good food. Good prices — and no flowers in the salad.

I like to go to bed early and get up early. As I write this column, it’s 5:18 a.m.

I also love afternoon naps. I don’t take them a lot, but when I do, it’s heaven. I usually curl up with my little dog, Bruno, and sleep away.

Sometimes when I wake up, I think it’s morning, but when I hear Oprah’s voice, I know it’s not.

A great night to me is when I curl up on my couch, snuggled in a blanket with Bruno and Jerry in the recliner next to me, watching T.V., usually what we recorded the night before, or sometimes a DVD from the video store. Half the time I fall asleep before the program has finished.

I’m not going to say I’m perfect in this department, but I don’t lose my temper as much. I had to laugh during one of my last years of teaching. I had a student tell me, “Mrs. Kelly, I don’t understand it. I think you’re really nice, but my dad told me that when he had you for a teacher, you were just a bitch.”

I howled, and said, “Well, yes, I was. I was a little nervous and scared during my first years of teaching, so I thought being stern and grumpy would help.” After a while, I learned that it didn’t.

I never thought about it, but I guess old age brings courage. When you’ve made it to the time you can call yourself “old,” you’ve had to face many things: The death of a parent, relatives or friends; hospitalization; a change of jobs; arguments; money problems; retirement, illness. All those tests everyone eventually faces.

And you realize that the good parts of life far outweigh the bad.

I realized early in life that God doesn’t think life should be easy.

It’s sort of like mountain hiking, with all the peaks and valleys.

I’ve found that it’s in the valleys where I struggle the most, but it’s also where I gain wisdom that leads to the peace I feel when I climb up to the peak — and a particularly hard climb yields the best view.

Well, this column has gone from lipstick in the cracks above my lips to a lofty mountain climbing metaphor. It all leads to the fact that life goes on.

To quote Truvy Jones, my second favorite character in the movie, “Steel Magnolias,” “Time marches on— and pretty soon it marches across your face!”

I’ll get used to it, ‘cause I don’t have a choice.

Like a friend always says, “It’s better than the alternative.”