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“Half time goes by suddenly you’re wise, Another blink of an eye, 67 is gone, The sun is getting high, we’re moving on…”

When I was really little, I had this next door neighbor. I don’t really remember her name, but I remember that she smelled like old tea bags, grass clippings, and butterscotch candies. She would send me to the local gas station to buy her cigarettes. I don’t know if that was actually allowed, or if the employee was just afraid to say no to her. I was definitely afraid of her. She had a grown son who was a firefighter, so she had the fire station radio turned on all the time, and she was also responsible for any addiction I might have had to Days Of Our Lives. My days in her home were spent hearing about four alarm fires and her quaky voice yelling about how Hope and Bo were the best couple EVER.

She was a grouch. And at the time, I didn’t understand…but I do now. Because today I am…37. What.the.what?

You can read about my feelings over my 35th and 36th birthdays, but now at 37, I realize that it is the honey badger of birthdays. Of course there are advantages to youth- energy, passion, lack of urge to yell at kids on your lawn, but I also realize that there are great things about aging too. One of the most significant for me is- I just don’t care.

I mean it. I do not care. The ain’t nobody got time for that lady and I are besties. You probably think a 37-year-old lady shouldn’t even be using the word “besties” but that’s the thing- I don’t care!  As you age, you just stop caring about the things you held so dear in your twenties. At 25, I was consumed with finding the right haircut that screamed “professional therapist that you can trust” balanced with “girl who could probably be in a rap video if she wasn’t so professional”.  Now it’s more the combo of “will I look like the love child of a poodle and Simba if this dries naturally” and “will this fall perfectly to hide the precious new wrinkle that has taken up residence on my forehead”. So, here you go- 37 things that I no longer care that you know about.

 

1. Making lists to be productive. It’ll get done when it gets done, OKAY? Get off my back.

2. I like “teen” shows. I’ve seen all the episodes of Dawson’s Creek, One Tree Hill, Gilmore Girls, and many others. They are interesting and funny and as much as you’d like to deny it, you and I both know you are Team Pacey all the way.

3. While we are on the subject of television, I know this might get me kicked out Texas, but I don’t like Friday Night Lights. I have TRIED. I just can’t. Closed Eyes, Bored Heart, Must Snooze.

4. Lord of the Rings. Poor man’s Harry Potter. Yeah, I said it. Yeah I know one of them was written before the other, but again- I don’t care. LOTR doesn’t have Dobby or Hermione and that is enough for me. I’ll go see the Hobbit movies in the theater, but I’ll dress up like Dumbledore. COME AT ME, NERDS.

5. Grammar and spelling nazis. Y’all just move along. Git ova urself. Seriously, kick back and watch a little One Tree Hill. It’ll make you forget the compulsion to obnoxiously correct strangers on the internet.

6. I don’t like about 95% of christian music. Yep. I have a few favorites that I love, both in the past and current, but most of it…sorry, I just fell asleep thinking about it.

7. Camping. Nope. I don’t hate it, but if you give me a choice between peeing on the ground with the risk of a scorpion taking offense, and peeing in a hotel room, I choose Hilton.

8. Being nice to those survey takers at the mall. Over it. Quite frankly, seeing a guy walking around with a severed head is less disturbing than a guy with a clipboard. Next time, I am just going to pretend I am a high-powered defense attorney and shout “NO COMMENT!” as I cruise through the mall.

9. Speaking of being nice, I no longer care about measuring up to some sort of pastor wife mold. I spent many years trying to be soft-spoken while secretly supporting Kevin Bacon’s right to dance, but the truth is- that isn’t how He made me. I want to be slow to speak and gentle, but not despair when I’d rather wear chucks than demure heels.

10. I don’t really like lobster or wine. It’s like eating a ball of rubber bands washed down with the bitter tears of disappointed grapes. I’m not fancy. I don’t know what to do with my hands in a fancy restaurant. Can I touch the bread- is that allowed? Is the bread just for show? Am I supposed to spit the wine out like that one guy does? I kind of want to spit the wine out. Can I just get a cherry coke? That’s fancy! Why is the waiter being so nice to me- WHAT IS YOUR ANGLE, GOOD SIR?!

11.  This list isn’t going to be 37 things long. Are you kidding me? My bestie says aint nobody got time for that, and she’s right. It probably bothers some of you organized people that I am stopping at eleven. I’m sorry. No I’m not.

 

Go buy my cigarettes, kid.

 

This is me. Caring about bowl cuts and glasses that take over my face.

This is me. Caring about bowl cuts and glasses that take over my face.

 

This is me. Not caring bout NOTHIN'

This is me. Not caring bout NOTHIN’

 

Email me at brandy.followingbutterflies@yahoo.com

Follow me on Twitter @brandyb77

 

 

 

 

 

 

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2 responses »

  1. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! Oh my sweet friend how I love you and your “nobody got time for that” look at life! 37 looks great on you!!! Miss you tons and can’t wait to get back in town so we can go celebrate with some queso and cherry coke!! Love you!

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  2. Happy Birthday sweet girl! You cannot be 37 because I am still 39, so stop it. The neighbor’s name was Mary and her son was Curtis. She thought you were the greatest little thing ever.

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