Double Sifted | Getting Older

I am 46 going on…dead. And all the pushups in the world won’t save me.

Categories: Getting Older

I console myself by thinking of all my favorite childhood things that have not lost their charm: musicals, shooting stars, The Mighty Ducks movies, crayons,

I console myself by thinking of all my favorite childhood things that have not lost their charm: musicals, shooting stars, The Mighty Ducks movies, crayons, Anne of Green Gables (the books and the movies), sleeping in, Calvin and Hobbes, slippers, Lincoln Logs, Pop Tarts, Albion Pig
…more

Categories: Childhood, Memories, Getting Older

A few months back I came to the uncomfortable and thoroughly undeniable realization that a chunk of my hair was in fact fading from my beloved, fiery red to a sad mousy brown/gray color.

Categories: Beauty, Getting Older

I am a renter, a mover, an anti-planner who fears commitment in all its forms; at least, that’s who I’ve always been.

Categories: Marriage, Family, Getting Older

The first (and last) time I saw Bruce Springsteen in concert, I was 15 and I was pretending to be my mother’s younger sister in the Meadowlands. Mom was younger than I am now, and so was Bruce.

Categories: Family, Marriage, Divorce, Getting Older

38 is not what I expected. I always thought that I would be a famous writer by now, and of course I would be a MILF. Ha! I don't even want to have sex with me

Categories: Parenting, Family, Adoption, Getting Older

in addition to various broken blood vessels and dehydration terrors, that burdensome walk gave you a new appreciation of the old wars and how they were fought mostly uphill by teenagers

Categories: Friendship, Hiking, Getting Older

No matter how goofy we'd dress, how moody and PMS-y we were, or what ingrates we could be, she was always, always on our side- ready to defend us or knock some much-needed sense into our noggins.

Categories: Mother, Daughter, Love, Getting Older

The girl looked at Eric and asked in a low voice “Who’s Eric Clapton?”, “some hippy Dad likes. Plays guitar”.

Categories: Parenting, Music, Getting Older

This, then, is motherhood. The gradual loss, the continual letting go.

Categories: Mother, Parenting, Getting Older

A doctor will have to insert his finger into a certain body cavity on a regular basis to ensure my prostate isn’t swelling to the size of a volleyball and demanding to be called Wilson

Categories: Getting Older, Marriage

Quitting is something I’ve excelled at in my life. Piano lessons, swim team, youth soccer, university, jobs, relationships - you name it, I’ve quit it.

Categories: Parenting, Father, Son, Getting Older

I didn't go to my college reunion. I haven't gone to my high school reunions. I wouldn't know what to say.

Categories: Getting Older

I was young, but I'd grown up medicating someone else's sadness. He couldn't have picked a better girl for this job, though he knew nothing of my history.

Categories: Getting Older

And because manners are so valued here, younger people start calling you ma'm as soon as you turn 30, at which time you must start growing a garden and step aside for the younger generation because your time in the sun is OVER.

Categories: Getting Older

My wife has the beauty of a real woman, and her clothes just wrap it. Women wish they were her; I doubt many wished they were dressed like her.

Categories: Getting Older, Marriage, Family

And we made amends for things we should have made amends for years ago, and that we were still carrying around inside.

Categories: Friendship, Getting Older

I was not comfortable enough to ever be successful with the opposite sex and despite being smack dab in the middle of one of the major cocaine trafficking routes in the southeastern United States, had yet to dabble in much beyond Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers and Benson & Hedges menthol 100s.

Categories: Music, Getting Older

I blame facebook for jump starting my biological clock.

Categories: Pregnancy, Getting Older, Relationship

The girls who moved in packs still move in packs except now they move in packs and drag their husbands with them.

Categories: Reunions, Getting Older

If I’m dressed like a cartoon character on drugs, it can only mean one thing: old age has me in its anaconda grip and it’s time to send me back into the welcoming arms of Baby Jesus.

Categories: Getting Older, Clothing, Marriage

It seems that I've entered the phase of my life when the only time I see people any more is on layovers.

Categories: Friendship, Getting Older

Tuesday, in the school parking lot, he asked, “Dad, can I not hold your hand? I’ll be very careful.” I said he could.

Categories: Father, Son, Getting Older

I was really just a brat and a lazy student and I wanted to blame my lack of success in school on the oppression of the man. So I adopted a tough chick persona

Categories: Getting Older, Mother, Daughter

Half my life is over, and I have nothing to show for it.

Categories: Getting Older

My youth has faded. My face has faded. My hair has faded. I don’t envy the beauty of my daughter-in-law. I love it for her.

Categories: Beauty, Getting Older

Over the course of my nearly 51 years, I’ve lost a lot of the parts I was born with.

Categories: Getting Older

I’ve cried and moaned and turned myself into women I wasn’t and never wanted to be. The willing forfeiture of your identity is a tragically heinous thing and I did it repeatedly.

Categories: Dating, Getting Older

Start a revolution, people. Go to bed ugly.

Categories: Sex, Marriage, Getting Older

I've often judge my mother and harshly. As I was growing into womanhood and deciding who I wanted to be, I looked at her housewifey, homemaker past and considered it not very exciting. The truth is, I had no clue.

Categories: Mother, Daughter, Getting Older

Getting Older

I am 46 going on…dead. And all the pushups in the world won’t save me.

A few months back I came to the uncomfortable and thoroughly undeniable realization that a chunk of my hair was in fact fading from my beloved, fiery red to a sad mousy brown/gray color.

I am a renter, a mover, an anti-planner who fears commitment in all its forms; at least, that’s who I’ve always been.

The first (and last) time I saw Bruce Springsteen in concert, I was 15 and I was pretending to be my mother’s younger sister in the Meadowlands. Mom was younger than I am now, and so was Bruce.

38 is not what I expected. I always thought that I would be a famous writer by now, and of course I would be a MILF. Ha! I don't even want to have sex with me

in addition to various broken blood vessels and dehydration terrors, that burdensome walk gave you a new appreciation of the old wars and how they were fought mostly uphill by teenagers

No matter how goofy we'd dress, how moody and PMS-y we were, or what ingrates we could be, she was always, always on our side- ready to defend us or knock some much-needed sense into our noggins.

The girl looked at Eric and asked in a low voice “Who’s Eric Clapton?”, “some hippy Dad likes. Plays guitar”.

This, then, is motherhood. The gradual loss, the continual letting go.

A doctor will have to insert his finger into a certain body cavity on a regular basis to ensure my prostate isn’t swelling to the size of a volleyball and demanding to be called Wilson

Quitting is something I’ve excelled at in my life. Piano lessons, swim team, youth soccer, university, jobs, relationships - you name it, I’ve quit it.

I didn't go to my college reunion. I haven't gone to my high school reunions. I wouldn't know what to say.

I was young, but I'd grown up medicating someone else's sadness. He couldn't have picked a better girl for this job, though he knew nothing of my history.

And because manners are so valued here, younger people start calling you ma'm as soon as you turn 30, at which time you must start growing a garden and step aside for the younger generation because your time in the sun is OVER.

My wife has the beauty of a real woman, and her clothes just wrap it. Women wish they were her; I doubt many wished they were dressed like her.

And we made amends for things we should have made amends for years ago, and that we were still carrying around inside.

I was not comfortable enough to ever be successful with the opposite sex and despite being smack dab in the middle of one of the major cocaine trafficking routes in the southeastern United States, had yet to dabble in much beyond Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers and Benson & Hedges menthol 100s.

I blame facebook for jump starting my biological clock.

The girls who moved in packs still move in packs except now they move in packs and drag their husbands with them.

If I’m dressed like a cartoon character on drugs, it can only mean one thing: old age has me in its anaconda grip and it’s time to send me back into the welcoming arms of Baby Jesus.

It seems that I've entered the phase of my life when the only time I see people any more is on layovers.

Tuesday, in the school parking lot, he asked, “Dad, can I not hold your hand? I’ll be very careful.” I said he could.

I was really just a brat and a lazy student and I wanted to blame my lack of success in school on the oppression of the man. So I adopted a tough chick persona

Half my life is over, and I have nothing to show for it.

My youth has faded. My face has faded. My hair has faded. I don’t envy the beauty of my daughter-in-law. I love it for her.

Over the course of my nearly 51 years, I’ve lost a lot of the parts I was born with.

I’ve cried and moaned and turned myself into women I wasn’t and never wanted to be. The willing forfeiture of your identity is a tragically heinous thing and I did it repeatedly.

Start a revolution, people. Go to bed ugly.

I've often judge my mother and harshly. As I was growing into womanhood and deciding who I wanted to be, I looked at her housewifey, homemaker past and considered it not very exciting. The truth is, I had no clue.

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Getting Older

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Double Sifted