Ah yes, the Carpenters.  As I sang along with Rainy Days and Mondays all alone in my little pink and purple bedroom during my teen years, I really had no idea what the words meant.  The rest of the lyrics are actually a bit depressing.  I can picture now a person, sitting by themselves, feeling down, talking to themselves.  It’s pitiful isn’t it?  The irony of it is that as I get older, I find myself doing those things that were, well, for what I had always considered more mature people.  For instance….

Talking to myself.  All the time, every day, everywhere.  I’m reminding myself of things I need to do and the order I need to do them in.  I talk through packing my lunch bag everyday and I do an audible run through of everything I need to take to school.  As I’m on my way to school, I’m thinking out loud about the things I need to do when I first get to school.  It’s actually not so bad when you’re all alone and nobody knows, but I’m doing it with my student teacher here.  I have to because if I just listen to what’s in my head and not hear it with my ears, I forget what is was I wanted to do. It’s a little embarrassing.

And Tuesday, I had an experience I had not had before.  We meet as a large group of music teachers several times a year and share ideas for our classrooms.  The idea on Tuesday required sitting on the floor.  It’s not that I can’t sit on the floor, it’s that I can’t get back up.  My knees do not cooperate at all and I end up on all fours pushing myself up.  Not so bad in front of 5 and 6 year olds, but I wasn’t about to do it in front of my peers.  In a dress.  So I sat in a chair in the back of the room with all of the other people who have trouble with their knees.  The veteran teachers.  Watching all the youngsters and my still agile older friends just plop on the floor.  I remember when I used to be flexible enough to put my knees beside my head.  I thought I was pretty cool then. Probably why my knees don’t work now.

So let’s talk “blue hair special”.  For those of you not in the know, a “blue hair” is an older person, named for the tint they put on their grey hair.  It’s common knowledge that older people eat dinner earlier and if you were to go to a restaurant around 4:30 or 5:00 in the afternoon you would see many older couples, but not anyone else.  We have become one of those couples.  But here’s what the older couples don’t tell you and it’s the best secret ever.  At 4:30 or 5:00, you can get a table at any restaurant in town and not have to wait.  It’s amazing!  Doug and I have gotten in the habit of doing that and then going out and doing something else afterward instead of the other way around.  Of course we tend to need a snack before we go to bed at 10:00, but I don’t see that as a huge sacrifice.

And speaking of hair, when is it time to give it up and let your natural hair color take over.  How long can I pull off having this lovely brunette hair with blonde highlights and not look like I’m coloring my hair.  Although, of course, you don’t have to be old to color your hair.  I have elementary students who have BEAUTIFUL natural colors and they cover it in something purple or pink.  Cute, but they’re beautiful without it.  I have to color mine just to keep some color in my face as the grey washes it out.  And I’m not ready to color my face with bright spots of pink on my cheeks just yet.

I was reassured that life wasn’t quite over yet when I followed a long line of sweet elderly ladies to the restroom during the intermission of the opera the other day.  I had to consciously slow down to keep from bowling them over and, well, walking to the bathroom isn’t the only slow thing they do.  Every movement walking into the stall, locking the stall and, well frankly, taking their time in the stall, was an exercise in slow motion.  TMI perhaps? Anyway, once I finally had the chance to go, I finally felt like I could go light speed.  The speed of a YOUNGER, older adult.  The speed of an elementary teacher with only 30 seconds to use the restroom.  I’ve had practice.  I take some comfort in knowing I haven’t completely slowed down.  After all, everything’s relative, right?

Years ago, a person caught talking to themselves a lot was considered to have psychological problems because the whole purpose of talking is to communicate with someone else.  However, now research is saying that talking to oneself is a sign of higher intelligence, some calling it genius.  I think there can be a fine line between genius and mental illness, but I’m choosing to believe that I’m a genius.  It’s something to hold onto while the rest of me is falling apart!