Vintage Things, like my Dad

Vintage is something that gets thrown around a lot and people have lost respect for the classic association for Vintage. I was talking with some friends and they were talking about the vintage quality of music from the ’90s. The 1890’s? No, the 1990’s. What? That isn’t vintage, that is last year. Vintage could be associated with vinyl albums, I’d allow that. But not CD’s that is ridiculous. You can still purchase CD’s in Wal-mart at the check out in the impulse purchase section, so that doesn’t count.

White Album
White Album  would be a Vintage Album

Vintage books mean books that pre-date 1960 and NOT A PAPER BACK.  Later then that are called “out of print” or “used books”. Still perfectly lovely but not Vintage.

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Vintage fashion is designer based. Something classic that has staying power like Chanel or Givenchy. Your granny’s $1.49/yard fortrel pantsuit she made for church is not. That is called “second hand” or “Value Village find”. I love second hand shops. I often find silk for 25 cents, but it does not make it vintage.

Coco-Chanel-Coco-Chanel-suit

I use to have a mother-in-law who thought of food as something that was vintage. Her pantry was a virtual museum of old brands and an odd assortment of canned goods that pre-dated World War II. In this case, yes this was Vintage packaging but she found it perfectly fine to serve Vintage food. I never indulged and was usually the one who never caught the ‘flu’ after eating at her house.

vintage-box

Vintage alcohol can be the answer to good time, but this also comes with some caveats. Wine and scotch yes, beer and coolers no. Make your own wine left in the plastic bathtub, no. Frozen beer then thawed beer, no (for the uninitiated, it goes skunky and flat. Not good ever) I have not had the pleasure of drinking a very old very expensive scotch, but I will one day and I can bet you it will be divine.

Woolsack-Whisky

I am watching the Hockey game (yay hockey is back!) When I say watching the game, I only ever mean MY team. The Edmonton Oilers. (For the record The New York Rangers are my Eastern Team – I fondly refer to them as Oilers East). The Oil are playing Columbus (who?) and they are wearing their 3rd jersey. It is in the classic original 6 vintage style. It is a really nice looking jersey, but… That’s right I said it, BUT…

Columbus Bluejackets have not earned the right to wear a Vintage Style Jersey. I don’t even think the Oilers have earned that right. 3rd Jerseys should be Vintage only with teams who have Original 6 Designation. That means I would proudly wear New York Rangers Vintage jersey. Suck it Leafs and Habs.

original-six_original_display_image

My Dad is about to become Vintage this year. I am in the process of collecting 65 cool vintage things. Mostly they will be cool vintage toys, Bobby Orr or Gordie Howe vintage jersey (both original 6 – the proper vintage) hockey cards from his youth and Pez with no feet, but VINTAGE not yard sale old. I am hoping to find some of these things in a yard sale but that isn’t the qualifying concept that makes it Vintage.

Vintage is a word that has class, style and panache, my dad does not appreciate being called the ‘old man’, ancient or decrepit  He is a man who had live well and seen lots. The adjective that describes him should reflect that. So, I will call my father Daddy. Anyone with a 45 year old who still refers to her papa as Daddy, can’t be such a bad guy,  he isn’t all that old.

I am 16,060 days old.

Shameless Plug —-> Today is my Birthday!

As with all my birthdays of the past, my friends are all on vacation, scattered to various parts of the universe. Lucky dogs are in Vancouver, Newfoundland, England, Greece, New York, Hawaii and Disneyland. Then there is the Entourage, they are in Idaho. So it was a typical birthday for me. Spent alone….awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Until 4:30.

Then I went to pick up my Gran, Mrs. Stadler and the Capo. The Capo is my Favorite Aunt. She is really more like my sister in all ways including age. Just a few years apart. Girls night on the prowl…to a Gay Club to watch a Drag Show.

This was the first time my Gran, who is 84 btw -( sorry Gran, but be proud!) to go to a Gay Club AND watch a Drag Show. She can now cross that off her bucket list! I am pretty sure she loved it, I could hear her howl with laughter. The guy gal female impersonator was fantastic! His Her The show is called EYECONS and she sang all her songs, which is unusual for the drag shows I have seen. They tend to be lip-synced. When she did Judy Garland, I swear it was Judy on stage being channeled. FABULOUS and funny, go see it if it is ever in your town. EYECONS is here part of the Edmonton Fringe.

Our dinner was a healthy Corn Dog and Poutine – standard carne food. I enjoyed libations of Candy Apple – mmmm never had that before- at the club and the it was off to Flirt for a birthday cup cake. I had THE DON, the Capo had a BOOB and Mrs. Stadler had Carrot Cake…boring name but tasty.

We laughed and strolled through the Fringe site where I had my face read by a psychic. She nailed everything and made me cry.  I think I need to ponder some of what she said more thoroughly.

By this time it was 8:30 and the birthday girl was tired. TIRED for crying out loud! 8:30 at night, I didn’t work all day because I watch Sex in the City (I have a thing for Big and men who live like Big in New York) I DID NOTHING!!!! Here was me wanting to go home home and rest!!! My 84 year old Granny said, “well you don’t take after me! I’m up long past 11:30!” Crickey! Middle aged and needing a nap.  NOT COOL!

We piled into the car and I yawned. WTF?!?! I use to be the girl who stayed up until 3! Not this year! I tell myself it is because of all the exercise I do, but I secretly fear it has to do with oldness. 44 is half way to 88. That makes me middle age, because God forbid I live past 88! If I do, I am wearing ruby red lipstick and carrying a cane to whack people with. Just saying…

Once in the car, the Capo talked about how cranky she is getting and it is worse when people ask why. She said ” Oh for crying out loud, I am 50 and menopausal! I have hormones! I am entitled to be cranky!!” She gave me a birthday card that said “Happy Birthday to someone I like… This is a big deal. I hardly like anybody.”  She signed it Aunty. I think I am the cause of her crankiness. I have never called her Aunty in my life. This has ALWAYS annoyed her. Her crankiness is now on steroids due to “hormones”. THEN the topic changed to how many times do you have to get up in the middle of the night to pee! WTF?!?! I don’t want to hear that! It’s my birthday! They talked about the value of a bed pan and how simple it would be to wear a diaper…well not Gran, she said”I NEVER WANT TO WEAR ONE!” I know women my age who wear them on long car trips because their husband won’t stop to let them use the loo. DEAR HUSBANDS who won’t stop, NOT COOL! Asking your sweetie to put penaten on your arse is not sexy and not romantic…just saying. Unless you’re into that – Not that there’s anything wrong with that…

Is this what I have to look forward too?? 6 years away of thinking bedpans are a good thing?? Kill me now. Screw dying at 88, I’m good to go now while I am feeling good. But it sucks. I finally have good hair! I just got a personal trainer today! I own a Tiffany necklace and want to get some wear out of it!

Happy Birthday to me 🙂

Cougar!

Jack & Diane
Image via Wikipedia

When I say”Cougar” I don’t mean I am signing up for Cougardate.com.  Although there was that Firefighter in St. Goar, Germany, but Mom called dibs. In the true sense of Cougar, a woman over 30 pursue younger men. I never found guys younger than me all that appealing. From as long as I can remember I liked the fellows who were much older than me. After seeing Empire Strikes Back, I had a major thing for Harrison Ford. That is a torch carried through all the Indiana Jones Movies, up until The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. At that point he was just OLD. There was of course the Edmonton Oiler Hockey Team staring Mark Messier, Paul Coffey, Kevin Lowe, and Jarri Kurri. Now they are retired, so that means OLD. I do have a thing for Puddy, you know, Patrick Warburton. My Honey teases me about it while standing in the queue for Soarin’ at Disneyland. When the guy says “Welcome to Soarin’ over California. My name is Patrick and I will be your chief flight attendant today”. He is looking ME in the eye, not you, not my honey and not my offspring, it is ME he is looking at! He is older, only by 3 years but as I am aging maybe the need for less older than me is more prevalent. Before you get your knickers in a twist, my honey has “girlfriends” too. Only they tend to be red heads who star on Taxi. But I digress…

Aging is a big deal for me today. I am feeling it from head to toe. I know it is mostly because I am suffering from jet-lag. I also know I am not alone in being tired. However, when I am tired I don’t really care that you feel tired too. I become selfish, cranky and ambivalent. My fuse is shortened in half and it takes everything out of me to be kind to people at work. I become sarcastic and sinister. Secretly I enjoy this side of me, but I am old enough to understand that these qualities are not welcome in the work place so I keep them under my hat and save them for my poor family for when I get home. The good news is that Offspring #1 is EXACTLY like me. So we share a laugh and understand each others dark and twisted sense of humor. The other important reason I feel very old today is Starbucks Pick of the Week.

Every Tuesday Starbucks hands out little cards that feature a music artist and they give you a code for iTunes to download the artist song for free. Well sitting next to me is John Mellencamp. I knew him when he was John Cougar. Sure he was older than me, 16 years to be exact. But when I was 15, Jack and Diane was released. I fell in love with John Cougar. He had longish dark hair, he had stubble, he had worn out Levis, he popped his collar like hot 80’s guys did, and he had that sexy smokers voice. He was a rock star. In my books, if you couldn’t be a hockey player, then rock star would do, but only just. Listening to his music today brings me right back to 15,the concert, his music, the era.  It is all wonderful until I look at his picture. The guy became old! If he is old, then I am old. What the?!?! How did this happen?

I looked at the Oilers Roster and I could be their Granny! How does this happen? On the inside I feel all young and fun. Then I look at myself and I think whose hands are those? I have gray hair for crying out loud! My gray hair matches my gray eyes! SO NOT COOL! I thank the heavens above that I am happily married because I would have to be a Cougar. That would be me chasing boys who are 40. Now that would be an interesting dating blog. My baby sister, who is so much younger than me she always thought she was an only child, has a boyfriend who is pushing 40! My Baby brother is over 40! My closest male friends are over 40! So the question of the day is what do I do about it?

I could get plastic surgery done. Boob lift, and maybe reduction because just a lift would impair my sight. Botox so you couldn’t tell when I was cranky. Become friends with Miss Clairol again. Between you and me, I think those old movie starlets who “get work done” look hideous. I prefer the natural look. So I will get plenty of sleep, eventually. Call my gray hair “highlights”. Give you a “knowing” smile instead of giving you cheek. I will stay current with technology and music, but still give some love to my “oldies”.

But mostly I, the Edmonton Tourist, will try to embrace the aging process and try not to say “when I was your age” even though I have some great Blizzard stories.

 

Since When did Old become Middle Aged?

The other day I was chatting with a friend when it was mentioned that a mutual contacted had passed away. I commented what a shame it was for his family. My conversational partner said, “it is, because he was so young!”

The man was 67. In my books that is already old. Young to me is under 30. Under 30’s usually haven’t really figured themselves out yet. I say usually because I believe there are exceptions to every rule. I can list 3 people off the top of my head who are under 30 who have it all together. Good for them! I didn’t. I pretended I did. That didn’t work out to well for me. But as with all things imaginary, that ended and reality marched in front and center and I evolved into what I call middle-aged.

Middle aged to me is somewhere between 35 and 45. I know you are all shocked but COME ON! Middle aged means double your age and that is old age. 35 x 2 =70. 70 is old. The Government of Canada expects you to retire before then and they will happily pay you your old age benefit of $265 plus change. That doesn’t cover my coffee bill for the month, so hopefully I will be dead by then.

People who are 63 and say they are middle age have me looking at them askew. 63 x 2 = 126. WHO WANTS TO LIVE THAT LONG?!?!? Not me. I hurt enough already. My knees will have to be replaced long before then. The body just wears out, not to mention the mind. So get a grip people! Embrace your age!

When my grandma was my age she had 3 grandchildren and another on the way. Aged 43 with grandchildren, FORTY THREE!!! When I was little, Grandma’s were considered old. Are they still? I met a Grandma not long ago who was younger than me. THANK GOODNESS that is not my fate! Listen up Offspring, it better not be my fate for a very long time – if ever.

That is not say that you have to fear aging. My Great Grandmother lived until the ripe old age of 98 1/2. I included the 1/2 like we did when we were kids and couldn’t wait to be old because I think when you are 98, the world deserves to know that you are 98 and “how much”. You paid your dues, brag a little! At any rate, she had a hard time moving around by then but she was still sharp as a tack and hilarious. I loved going to visit her. She smelled of pears soap, always had a box of Laura Secord Jellies, and would comment about the residents dropping like flies. She was a teacher for the Saskatchewan School system and screwed them out of decades of teacher pension pennies. I never heard her complain about being old. I’m sure she did, just not to me and maybe not to her grandchildren either. From her I learned you suck up what life deals you and get on with it. No point crying over it. Laugh at it instead, it makes it tolerable.

So here I sit at 43, half way to 86. I never want to experience under 30 again. I am screwed if reincarnation is true. Between you and me, I have to say I love being in my 40’s. I couldn’t say that about the other decades I experienced. Sure there were moments I loved, some I liked, but mostly I like this decade the best so far.

I like being confident and smart. Those two words never use to be in the same sentence. Even now as I write this, it feels odd to declare yourself as smart without the self-depreciating humor attached to it. Or maybe I can enjoy the self-depreciating humor because I am smart. Either way, I like how it feels. I do need to do something about the vessel that carries me further down the path into senior citizen. I really want to take advantage of senior discounts, and brag that I am on a “fixed Income” even though I currently am on a “fixed income” and work full-time. But to do all this and achieve my dreams of being a cranky senior tightwad, I need to shed some weight. I want to be healthy-ish.

I have a great start, and shed a few pounds this summer. I need to move more. So that is what I am going to do. The next stop on my adventure is not going to be a stop after all.

I will keep moving.