100 Miles with One Step, etc

Okay, so here I am at the gym, having got up 1.5 hours earlier than I normally would on a school morning. Actually, I woke naturally and in alarm a further 12 minutes before the alarm so that’s, 1.6 hours, I guess. Anyhoo, it’s fucking early and I’m here. 

I had high hopes of finishing a movie from my Keanu-athon but the kids (or, let’s face it, Husband,) put my ipad spmewhere and I couldn’t find it before I left. I managed to scrounge his earphones since I left mine in the bedroom, and I finally made it out the door. Gah, I’m tired.

I played Golden Girls Monopoly with friends last night, 10 out of 10 highly recommend, would definitely play again. Had the obligatory cheesecake and managed not to eat the remaining half of the cake before bed, or after Husband had gone to bed. I googled the calorie count (why? WHY?) and it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. I managed to cut the slices thinner than I would normally do, but it’s a new year and new me, right?! But I had two, so. I think the two slices equal more than one serving, so by using that same equation, 1 serving = 500cals, ÷3, × 2, still equals too much whipped cream but I’m here bright and early, ergo, pretty sure I’m breaking even so far.

I asked Husband about the event in September that has the 40m bike ride, and he said 2 hours, I think, for him to ride it. He’s “a cyclist” so I need to add at least another hour to the cycling section of my exercise regime, [side note: is it a regime if it’s only 3 days in?], which gives me a total of exactly 1 hour in my cycling regime [side note: if the answer can be ‘yes’, then I can be strict enough with myself to do it]. I am 20 minutes into that aspect of the regime and I must say, my will to live is flagging.

. . .

I finished, I survived, I will exercise another day. Keep on fighting (one of the) good fight(s).

Growing Old Disgracefully

Glancing up from my desk at work the other day, I saw an old lady with thinning hair and a cane, and with dyed hair. I’m not sure if it was maroon or brown or some shade of dark, dark pink. Anyhoo, it got me thinking about my own inevitable decline into senility and inability and I came up with options for myself:

The Golden Girls

What colour will you dye your hair when you decide that too much grey really is too much?

  • Blue
  • Pink
  • Purple
  • Green?
  • Black – I refuse to grow old

Which preferred method of transport will you allow yourself to succumb to?

  • Limousine
  • Push-Walker
  • Wheelchair
  • Scooter Chair
  • Hover Mover – because they would have invented that by the time I get old

muppets

As my body shrivels and cries out for moisture (essence of wetness), I know what I will be constantly slurping. What about you?

  • Tea
  • Champagne
  • Gin
  • Other – not worth naming

When our minds are the sharpest part of our bodies, what will be your preferred card game to skewer your fellow captives at whatever retirement option you find yourself in?

  • Spades
  • ‎Rummy
  • Crazy Eights
  • 500
  • Bridge
  • Cribbage
  • Pinochle
  • Solitaire
  • Cheat
  • I Doubt It
  • Bullshit – apparently this is an actual game

bucket-list

Provided you still retain the use of your extremities and your hands, in particular, aren’t too arthritic, what will be your fave thing to Knit/crochet?

  • Baby booties
  • Beanies
  • Viking hats with attached beards
  • Lap blankets
  • Afghans
  • Rude pictures of Donald Trump
  • Mermaid tale blankets
  • Wine koozies
  • Teapot koozies
  • Cooter koozies

calendar-girls

What will you do with your boobs?

  • Tie them in a knot
  • Tie them in a bow
  • Toss them over your shoulder
  • Get a nip and tuck so they look like hairless eyebrows
  • Get an enlargement – I refuse to grow old

tatie-danielle

Are you are waiting til old age to do any or all of the following?

  • Get your first tattoo
  • Get a piercing (perhaps these options won’t hurt as much when you have less sensory perception in your body)
  • Stay late and sleep at Ikea

How will you pass the time when all your friends are dead or dying?

  • Go back to school
  • Go back to bed
  • Stay out in the garden
  • Stay out all night

gran-torino

Let’s assume you will need and therefore get, a cane. It’s perhaps a little more regal than a push walker. You choose a cane tip that best suits your personality by getting

  • A middle finger, perhaps from an actual skeleton
  • The skull of your first husband
  • A spider encased in resin
  • A mosquito encased in amber

If you can still see well enough to pilot a vehicle, which car best suits your proclivities?

  • A smooth, spendy ride
  • A motorbike – no need for an overly large windscreen when you probably need the extra protein in your diet
  • A muscle car, no suspension – you’ll be happy to feel every bump in the road while you’re still alive to feel them
  • A monster truck – sure, you’re looking for excitement but at your age, it’s still hard to see over the traffic

miss-marple

Little old ladies and gentlemen often have collections, and I dare say mine will be something to distract me from my vertical deterioration. Will yours be

  • Decorative collars, RBG-style
  • Powdered wigs
  • Commemorative mugs
  • Decorative teaspoons
  • Stamps, coins, exotic postcards
  • A trail of broken hearts
  • A list of faux friends who died before you
  • Boyfriends still alive
  • Boyfriends will energetic enough to warrant the term

Levity aside, we all need to think of our “arrangements” at some point…

  • Standard coffin
  • Pimped coffin
  • Ice-cream freezer
  • Forget going in a box of any kind, just compress your cremains into a diamond on a piece of jewellery for your Daughter-In-Law, because even in death, you want the last word

ned-devine

Exit strategy – perhaps you’re indeed, next level and consider taking things into your own hands after a long and enjoyable life…

  • Gravitron
  • Skydiving – you either die in the air or when you hit the ground (going out with a bang, anyone?)
  • Massage chair set on the max setting

I dig the massage chair myself, I wouldn’t subject an actual person to pummeling me to death, though.