I would laugh at myself

Harry was driving us up to his mom's new nursing home on Sunday for a visit. This is a rare occurrence, when Harry is the one driving. I like driving. I feel more comfortable behind the wheel. And I'll admit it, I'm a terrible passenger. I've come to find that I'm not the only woman like this. We feel a loss of control when merely observing things pass us by instead of being engaged continuously in the motion of the vehicle we're in. That's not to say that I'd like to learn how to fly a plane to get from point A to point B; I usually don't look out the window, so I'm not observing anything. I have this rare form of logic, see? It seems to only work in MY brain.

Anyway, we're driving along, and since it's Harry's car, he gets control of the radio dial. I sometimes let him have control of the dial in my car since we're in it so much, but we usually stick with the rule that if it's your car, you have complete control. Mwah ha ha!

So we're listening to '80s metal (on a radio station in these parts known as "The Bone"), and, of course, the volume is up. After driving for a few minutes, Harry realizes that the radio's maybe a little to loud for me and turns it down. I simply say, "thank you". He starts to laugh. This is an ongoing joke. Everything seems to be too loud for me nowadays-- the tv, the radio, the air condition, the dishwasher. My hearing seems to have gotten more acute as I age. 'Tis very strange.

He says, "What would your teenage self say to you if she met you today?" to which I replied, "I would laugh at myself."

It's true; I was one of those teenagers (and even during my early 20s) that blasted the radio in the car as I drove. I cranked it up to the top notch of the volume, and that STILL wasn't loud enough. People used to yell at me from outside my car for me to "turn it down!" I've been told I could wake up the dead with my car radio.

And then that all changed about 2 years ago. All of a sudden, everything was much too loud. It would actually hurt my ears to have the volume up any more than 3 notches. I'd listen to the TV low, so low that I could actually hear my sister's TV upstairs over my own. Oh, and the movie theatres! Don't even get me started. I think a deaf person could hear the dialogue through the vibrations in the floorboards.

I don't think I could go to a rock concert again. Sadness. I'll have to listen to sad songs and waltzes live for the rest of my days. No more Poison concerts for me.

It's really not that big a deal; it's just funny to see how much I've changed. 18-year-old Alicia wouldn't even believe that I'm her 10 years from her present. She just wouldn't. She'd say, "who is this lame-ass woman standing before me?" or something to that affect. I'm like the anti-Alicia, I'm nearly everything I said I would never be. Yet, the most interesting aspect of that is that I've managed to integrate all these new personality traits with most of the old ones.

There's still a little of the 18-year-old Alicia there; She's simply grown up and evolved. And then there are new pieces of me that came from out of left field. The changes-- my new fondness for plants and flowers (even if I still can't manage to keep them all alive), wearing my glasses all the time, regardless of how they look, wearing colors instead of black all the time (even flower prints!), having normal colored hair (no more pink or purple), quitting smoking, really getting into home decor, watching DIY shows on TV, finding an appreciation for the music my mother listens to, finding appreciation for my mother, the list goes on and on.

I just wouldn't believe that I'm me.

And the clincher...

Harry and I just purchased this---->



Freakin' fine china... in my home. The Earth must have stopped spinning.

And do you know what's funnier? Harry is more excited about the purchase than I am. I think his 18-year-old self would have a good, hearty guffaw at himself as well.