As the rash of Jonah-months continues, this week is definitely in the running for one of the worst ever, as far as my work-life goes. Bindu, reacting to some absurd news, asked me today if we had reached the point in our lives where the guys (or should I say, men) who are our age start dating much younger girls. After a mix of laughter and tears, I asked her if that means we’re officially middle-aged? Are we supposed to start dating men considerably older than we are? If this is the entryway to middle-age, I thought it would come with fanfare, some crow’s feet around my eyes, and maybe some sort of benign ailment, usually attributed to age (I was thinking, perhaps a touch of artheritis in my left pinkie would suffice). Wikipedia defines middle-age as “the period of life beyond young adulthood but before the onset of old age. Various attempts have been made to define this age, which is around the third quarter of the average life span of human beings,” which doesn’t help at all. I mean, seriously, if this is the definition, you’re middle-aged for something like 30 years, and while I don’t know if I qualify as a “young adult” any longer, I don’t know if I’m ready to plunge into middle-agedom.
More rambling after the jump
Speaking of Bindu, we had to work on Tuesday, despite it being Veteran’s Day, which meant Metro was running on a modified schedule and our commute home (we ride the Metro together from Dupont to the Pentagon) was much more crowded than usual. Once we finally got a train, we were serenaded by a woman singing along loudly with her iPod to a very inappropriate song. Then last night on my bus ride, I saw a woman with the strings to her hooded sweatshirt shoved up her nose. I’m guessing/hoping it’s a full moon.
I saw Marc Broussard in concert on Saturday night at the 6th & I Synangogue with Tyler, Amber, Maureen, and Sayta. I wasn’t extremely familar with him or his music, but it was a really great show.
I highly recommend that everyone watch this video of an adorable French girl making up the best story ever (hat tip: Ryan).
My apologies that this is random and completely disjointed, I imagine the next 10 days will be filled with posts about the Thanksgiving dinner I’m cooking and my varying degrees of freaking out over said dinner. Good times.
If you’re middle-aged, my 37 year old butt must be approaching death!
Full moon on Tuesday/Wednesday.
Yay Marc Broussard!
There’s a completely random rambling of a comment for you!
Everything will be wonderful. Hakuna Matata!
Hmmm, this is a very good point that you have brought up…I guess I need to start dating guys my own age before I no longer can! Why waste time with those older (apparently we have time for that once the ones our age don’t want us) and don’t date younger (except for that one little incident) for fear that we’ll be thought of as cougars. Unless we can still date younger until we’re middle-aged, at which point, we will then be considered cougars. I need to do some more research!