Category: Life

I felt like I was 22 again except, well, everyone around me was middle-aged. Middle-aged and rocking. The band was great and I’m not just saying that because I know the guitarist.

The rocking good time was a fundraising event that I attended with some friends.
I learned a few things, too.

1. I still like to dance, but I can’t do it all night like I used to. All that flailing about is exhausting. Best to stick to my side-to-side 80s dance moves if I want to go the distance. Jumping around at top speed to “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles), while fun, is harder than the Plank. Also, wearing my very pointy boots didn’t help matters. I arrived home with sore feet.
2. “I Wanna Be Sedated” holds up.
3. Heineken is the best dancing beer.
4. Watch out for guys wearing red pants.
5. Getting a song dedicated to you is just as exciting in your 40s as it is in you 20s. Perhaps more so if the song is by the great Joe Jackson.
6. I can afford to buy more drinks now that I’m older, but I don’t since I’m wiser. Plus I had a lot of errands to run today and I didn’t want to feel blah while grocery shopping and such. I think that’s called maturity. Or else old and boring.

But the most important thing I learned is getting out and dancing is great fun. Next time, I will wear the less pointy boots. But unless there’s a time machine handy, I don’t know where I will find the music of my youth that can get me leaping on the dance floor. I guess I’ll have to wait until the next middle-aged fundraising show to rock out.

Of course, there’s always the streetcar. Mind you, I could be convinced to go dancing again if there’s someplace that has a good 80s night or at least (not) lots of Heineken.

Barring that, I also love a good comedy show. I am easy to please.

The band. By this time the crowd had thinned but it was packed earlier.

I got my hair done that morning.

I am the most unphotogenic person on earth. It was the angle. The hair looked good, not that you can tell.

My pals and a zombie (?) in the background.

The gang!

Today I was at lecture with Gabrielle Hamilton, the author of Blood, Bones and Butter.
It was a great event, but one thing she said was so — well, thoughtful — that I wrote it down. (I am not usually a note-taker in my private time — I take plenty of notes during business hours and that seems to be enough.)

“I try not to worry about future pain.”

I do try to enjoy the present. I am not the type of person who counts the days down to Friday. I try to have fun every day. I don’t dread getting up to go to work and I don’t hate doing my laundry or washing the dishes. I believe happiness is (mostly) a choice and I choose to be happy.

But I do worry about future pain. The what-ifs and the what-if-nots. The ambiguity of the future. The chaos to come. The leaky pipe, the broken dishwasher. The end of a relationship, the death of a loved one — then another and another and another.

I think this is normal, or at least common. Things are going to break, people are going to break up and everyone’s gonna die.

So sometimes, I like to do my worrying in advance. But I try not to. I try to think about all the good that will happen, too. All the fun, the new experiences, the new places to visit. There’s plenty of love and joy in the future, too. Probably more joy than pain on balance — or so I choose to believe.

I guess I’m better at this than I think.