Jun. 12, 2004 ~ Saturday
Talked with Soldier Boy today, and tried not to ask directly about the door gunner job. Instead, I just asked, "Have you decided if you are going to re-enlist?" At this point he thinks not. He's not totally sure, but probably not. Whew! He was supposed to decide about the door gunner position last weekend. I take it this is a "no." Or a "not yet." But I'm going with NO. If he changed his job description it would mean a cut in pay, and it seems highly unlikely that he would volunteer for that. So since it looks like we are out of the woods on this one, I told Husband what Son had been thinking of doing. He got very quiet. The look on his face said it all, that I had been right not to tell him last week. At least that worry is behind us, I hope.
The kids are acting up again. Or the troops. In another entry, a while back, I wrote about feeling like my various body parts were a bunch of unruly, wild children, totally out of control. Not playing nicely together. They're doing that again. It's a time when everything hurts, with few exceptions. There is no way to get comfortable, whether sitting, lying down or standing up. Maybe it will pass soon. Or at least eventually. I thought people were just kidding when they said their hair hurt. Apparently they were not.
Husband has his share of "owies," too. We're quite the pair!
I've been thinking about aging gracefully. I'm not. Oh, I'm definitely aging... just not gracefully. The thing of it is, I don't really know what to expect. So every day brings surprises, in terms of this getting older business. Gray hair, wrinkles, spider veins in the weirdest places, and please say it's not so, but aren't those varicose veins? When did they show up? My mom had varicose veins, my cousin has varicose veins, and yet somehow I never really thought it could happen to me. Wrinkles, either. I know. I'm a few sammiches short of a picnic. You don't have to rub it in. You see, my mom had pretty gray hair, and her share of wrinkles, and it looked fine on her. She had a beautiful smile, and a very pretty face. But my parents, brother and grandmother are long gone, favorite aunts are gone... what I'm saying is that there is no one I can ask about these things. No one to commiserate with. No folk wisdom or old wive's tales for me to hear. It just isn't polite to ask older friends about these things, but I want to know how to get through it, get past it. It's all vanity. Funny thing is that I never thought I was pretty, so what difference does it make? I just don't want to be... what's the word? Unattractive. I don't want people to stare. Would they? Probably not, as they'd be too busy worrying about their own sags, bags, droops and so on. At water exercise class the other day, the instructor and I were talking about silly stuff, like what ugly babies we were (I was!), and she mentioned that her mom always told her she was ugly. How sad. She believed it, and even now, she struggles with it. But she smiled and said that her husband thought she was beautiful, and that should be enough. Husband thinks the same of me. We both think our spouses need glasses!
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