The only reasons for today's title are (1) I could not come up with anything clever or witty, and (2) I'm listening to Pandora, and right now it's Louis Armstrong singing/playing what seems like a very melancholy version of that song. And this sort of suits me right now. I'm in a good mood all in all, and I want to smile. But yesterday, for the first time in a very long time, I was afflicted with the mother of all cold sores. Came out of nowhere and has now given me a big ol' fat lip, with all of the grossness of a cold sore and none of the sexiness of big puffy lips. Joy. So, not only does it make me grumpy, but it also hurts to smile. Boo. And tomorrow is the big 4-0 for me. I have anticipated this milestone for years. When I hit 33 or so, I finally understood Meg Ryan's lament in When Harry Met Sally: "I'm gonna be forty.... Someday!!" (I honestly did not understand that line when I first saw the movie in my 20s). And that someday is here. And of all the horrors I imagined (none of which have come true, by the way; no horrors--just sore knees, an achy lower back, and slowly deteriorating eyesight), I did not imagine entering my fourth decade with a whopping cold sore (the affliction of my teen years; the infliction that kept me from joining high school band, because you can't play the flute when you get a cold sore every other month). Anyway, what's next? A zit on my nose? Horrible teenage mood swings? What the heck, let's go for broke. Give me some braces, a thick pair of glasses, and ratty hair. It'll be like no time has passed. Apparently 40 is the new 16!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
When You're Smiling
The only reasons for today's title are (1) I could not come up with anything clever or witty, and (2) I'm listening to Pandora, and right now it's Louis Armstrong singing/playing what seems like a very melancholy version of that song. And this sort of suits me right now. I'm in a good mood all in all, and I want to smile. But yesterday, for the first time in a very long time, I was afflicted with the mother of all cold sores. Came out of nowhere and has now given me a big ol' fat lip, with all of the grossness of a cold sore and none of the sexiness of big puffy lips. Joy. So, not only does it make me grumpy, but it also hurts to smile. Boo. And tomorrow is the big 4-0 for me. I have anticipated this milestone for years. When I hit 33 or so, I finally understood Meg Ryan's lament in When Harry Met Sally: "I'm gonna be forty.... Someday!!" (I honestly did not understand that line when I first saw the movie in my 20s). And that someday is here. And of all the horrors I imagined (none of which have come true, by the way; no horrors--just sore knees, an achy lower back, and slowly deteriorating eyesight), I did not imagine entering my fourth decade with a whopping cold sore (the affliction of my teen years; the infliction that kept me from joining high school band, because you can't play the flute when you get a cold sore every other month). Anyway, what's next? A zit on my nose? Horrible teenage mood swings? What the heck, let's go for broke. Give me some braces, a thick pair of glasses, and ratty hair. It'll be like no time has passed. Apparently 40 is the new 16!
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It's absolutely the new 16. . .in a good way,cold sores notwithstanding. Have a great one!
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