middle age

today is my last day of being 33 years old. why do i feel like my life is frittering away and i’m still stuck in the mindset of an eight year old?

i don’t feel particularly old; when thinking of years past, it feels like it wasn’t that long ago, that it was something that just happened. even lingering over my gradeschool years feels like i just left it.

there’s something to be said for taylor’s swift’s song “22” – it is kind of the culminating point of your young years. she says: “We’re happy free confused and lonely at the same time.
It’s miserable and magical.” can’t really argue with that. my dad waxes eloquent about 1955 all the time. the food, the movies, the trips he took, the people he befriended, even his ex-girlfriend who he started dating that year. how old was he? 22. will 2001 be my “best year”? so far, i feel like it is.

but, as my age switches from the big 33 to the even bigger 34 tomorrow, there’s something to be said for getting a little older. and as i sit here trying to think of what actually could be said about getting older, i can’t come up with anything. i don’t FEEL any different even though i have to be. i still FEEL like i’m 8, though the seconds, minutes, months, and years keep piling up next to my grey hair, wrinkles that are getting more prominent, and hands that show a little more age than i would like.

c’est la vie, i guess. as gretchen rubin said:

“the days are long but the years are short.”

100% true.

:(

my uncle squire (dad’s brother) was more of a grandfather figure to me than my grandfather was. an ornery, cantankerous grandfather. 🙂 he has diabetes and his kidneys don’t work, and his foot had gangrene, so he had it amputated. i last saw him in january, and he was his normal self, watching westerns on TV and complaining about the hospital food (he was there for dialysis). he’s the best uncle a girl could have.

he fell out of bed two nights ago and broke his hip. they were going to do surgery on it the next day, but that night, he went into cardiac arrest and they had to resusitate him. his breathing was fine, blood pressure, pulse, etc., but he was on a respirator and he was unconscious. they took him off the respirator today and he was doing fine on his own, but then had some trouble breathing, so they tried to put it back in, but he had a panic attack and his heart stopped, and they resusitated him once again.

they (my religious aunt and my dad (my loopy aunt i think isn’t in on the decision?)) had/have to make the decision for him to be resusitated a third time. he’s not doing well at all, keep him in your prayers/thoughts (whichever suits your spiritual persuasion).

i’m going down there on saturday and will be there for who knows how long. i will have my phone with me, and i do have service down there.