I'm Too Old For This Stuff

It turns out that perhaps I'm not as hip and cool as I think I am. Do the kids say "hip" these days? Because I might be so uncool in fact, that I use words like "hip". Maybe I have hit the time in my life where the only use of "hip" that makes sense is when it is used in sentences such as: "I go in for my hip replacement surgery tomorrow" or "I have child bearing hips". In fact, I might be so far past cool that I am really an old lady standing on my front porch waving my crooked, arthritis ridden finger at the whipper snappers who drive too fast down my street.

You might be shaking your head in disbelief, wondering what possibly could have happened that I have now resigned myself to a lifetime of early bird specials. The events that occurred will chill you to the bone.

Da club happened.

Yes, you heard me right. I was up in da club. My hoochie outfit consisted of a classy dress of an appropriate length paired with sexy but sensible slingbacks. I thought I looked okay, like a married 29 year old who still likes to get dressed up, go out, and get her party on. Well, to quote John McCain - because let's face it, I am apparently close to his age - My friends,  I might as well have been wearing my house slippers. I should have walked into da club with cold cream on my face and curlers in my hair. 29 is the new 92 when trying to back that ass up to a bar with bartenders who call you ma'am. Or was it mom? I couldn't hear a conversation over all that racket they were playing. Honestly, music these days doesn't even have a melody.

But though an old lady I may be, I am nothing if not a trooper. I was determined to celebrate this bachelorette party with the gusto of a girl of 21. I balanced my vodka tonic on my walker and shook my artificial hips to the sound of profanity laced music (honestly, can this noise even be called music? In my day, you could understand the lyrics). Just as I was about to bust a move I collided with a couple engaged in what I believe the kids call grinding. I stared in horror and yelled at the young adults to get a room. I can't be sure, as my hearing isn't all that great, but I think I heard the young man inquire who let Grandma into da club. My heavens!

Can you believe that we partied like teenagers until the wee hour of 11:00? I would have stayed longer as I was just getting my groove back, but it turns out that we can't drink like we could in the good old days. On top of that, some hooligan stole an iPhone from one of the jacket pockets in our party. He probably figured that we were too old to use such a new fangled device, and saved us the humiliation of attempting to join the young world of technology. What a nice young man.

I awoke with creaking bones but hey, any day I wake up above ground is a good day. I folded myself into my rocker, covered myself with my knitted afghan, and dozed off with dreams of da club.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

As you may have read in The Coffee Cup Caper, my husband is a bit of a hoarder. Hoarding conjures up images of piles of junk items stashed and stacked all over the house. Thanks to yours truly, Mr. Greene's hoarding has not been permitted to escalate to emergency situation standards. Buuuut....I do find very strange things in very strange places.

Like today. I found a pair of pajama pants for which he has been searching fruitlessly. In a bush. In our front yard. Of course.

This pants situation baffled me. Since the husband wasn't around to interrogate, I turned to the besties. Thus this mystery became the sisterhood of the traveling pants.

Why on earth, I asked, would one put a pair of pants, pajama pants no less, into a bush in the front yard? Well, perhaps it was a treasure hunt, said one friend. Interesting. We are nearing Easter, so perhaps this is a Greene version of an Easter egg hunt? Said the same friend, it could be a cut and dry case of pants trying to escape! Hmmm...And just what could the pants have seen that would make them fly the coop? I won't ask.

This mystery proved to be helpful to another friend. She had lost her yoga pants and didn't even think to look in the yard! That husband of mine...always so helpful to others in their times of need.

And yet another friend sent encouraging words about the joys of gardening, for oh, the things you can find! Thanks friend...But I still hate doing the "boy" jobs Mr. Greene once did before he joined the dark side of 80 hour work weeks. No matter how cool I try to make it, yard work makes me itchy and irritated. And, quite honestly, confused, now that I've found pajama pants in the planter box.

That's What's Up

This was a weekend wrought with misadventures, which has prompted the following musings. I can attest that over the years, I have been on many a misadventure with many a poor soul, and I have found that these misadventures usually result in the maximum amount of fun. This weekend was no exception.

It all started when the always entertaining Kat rolled into town. For those of you who don't know, Miss Kat is my fabulous sister and partner in crime. These days she goes by the name of Dolly. The afternoon began with a light lunch followed by a pitcher of beer margaritas. Beer Margaritas, you exclaim! And rightfully so, because if you haven't tried a beer margarita, then really, you have no idea what you're missing. I suggest that you make yourself some before reading any further.

www.allrecipes.com

One pitcher became two, and before you knew it we were sound asleep. The following morning, we awoke bright eyed and bushy tailed - Just like you always do after consuming copious amounts of tequila, right? Okay okay, I admit it. We might have looked like something the margarita fairy dragged in. It wasn't pretty. But we had places to go and things to see, so rally we did! A little makeup and a breakfast burrito later we looked great. Presentable. Whatever.

Off we went to our next misadventure, a San Diego bay cruise on the Hornblower. Now that's what's up. I think I may have found the perfect hangover remedy. Fresh air and mimosas! Eureka! Get me the US Patent Office on the phone. We learned many things aboard that ship. Did you know that the Navy trains dolphins to scope out enemy submarines? Those cute, cuddly creatures are actually military combatants specially trained in espionage! Another fun fact we learned that day: The Hornblower sells hot dogs. It was the world's best kept secret, and yet we discovered this blissful fact thanks to an overzealous passenger with a fondness for Stella with Sprite and sausage. And finally, I learned that if Kat could be any sea creature in the world, she would be a seahorse. You learn something every day - even those about whom you thought you knew everything.

Now, sadly, it was time for Dolly to say goodbye. She had cotton candy to twirl and happiness to spread. In strolls the husband, with wonderful news that he (finally) has a weekend off. WooHoo! Already I have visions of spending long, lazy hours together, exploring San Diego and remembering why we got married. Imagine my surprise when my wonderful, hard working husband declared that he would like to spend the weekend refinishing the hardwood floors in our rented (yes, RENTED!) house. After a few choice words and an hour (or more) of the silent treatment, I decided that we should probably make the best of this misadventure. We couldn't stay in the house while the floors dried, so we decided to head on up to the Thompson Tavern in Huntington Beach. Aka: Mom & Dad's. Hey, you gotta do what you've gotta do.

Many misadventures ensued, but like most of the best memories I have, the actual events are foggy. However, I am certain that there was a boat, Captain Jack's, and some serious dancing to Rocket Man. I know how to get down.

We returned to beautiful floors, to which I begrudgingly had to agree were worth the weekend of dust and chaos. I awoke this morning to the delivery of our first ever, matching, grown up furniture! After the weekend I had, it's good to have an adult living room to remind me that all good things must come to an end. It's Monday again and I am obligated to put my adult face on.