I feel you, Sammy

So much about the song is outdated, but the vocals are iconic and the melody is catchy, and “I Can’t Drive 55” by Sammy Hagar remains a classic. Plus, who doesn’t love a vintage Ferrari and a jumpsuit that looks like hotdog toppings.

Fortunately, the speed limit has been raised in many places since this song came out in 1984. We can legally open up the throttle to as much as 80mph, even here in Oklahoma. I do love to drive fast. There’s something so freeing about it. Like time doesn’t matter…

I just had a birthday. My 55^th. And these days, I really have to say, I can’t drive 55. It’s way too fast.

Where did my childhood go? I realized earlier this year that I met my two oldest friends when we were in 10^th grade. 40 years ago. Sometimes they’ll remind me of something I said or did back then, and wasn’t that funny, and I just say, I’ll take your word for it because I have no recollection of the event. Fortunately I still remember them, and I’m pretty sure I liked them in 1984, and I’m definitely happy we’re still in touch.

I’ve recently lost an aunt and an uncle. In the space of 6 days. I guess with both parents gone, the hit parade continues with other relatives and friends. All of it is a reminder that I’m on that hit list too.

Yesterday, I made the mistake of looking at the skin on my face in a mirror in the afternoon sunlight. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

I can think of only one other woman I know personally under the age of 60 who does not color her hair. Am I missing the bandwagon, or am I bandwagon of one? Would brown hair add to my quality of life? I’d still feel invisible.

My left thumb has stopped working. Opposable thumbs, while easily taken for granted, are totally the bomb. I use my left hand for a lot of important things, like eating, opening jars, and pulling up my right shirt sleeve. Which is crucial when your arms are so short that every single shirt you buy has sleeves that are too long. Knitting has fallen by the wayside. Which means TV is even more boring than it was.

Apparently, once you go through menopause (sorry guys), you lose the ability to create collagen, which besides creating that trademark overall saggier appearance, means that we don’t have the ability to repair and replace tendons like we once did. There go the thumbs. And also the outer hips.

Add in osteoporosis (oh yeah, I have a “touch of osteoarthritis” now too), hot flashes, and a few extra inches around the middle, and you have yourself a regular party.

This is not to say I’m not happy to be here. I’m just freaking out about being here.

But right now the birds are singing outside my office, something (bird? Squirrel?) is gnawing at something on the roof. There are no gas lawnmowers going. I have a little free time today. I’m tired, and a little sad, but I’m here, so that is good.

But can we just slow this thing down?