The more, the better

Sunday - Grey, misty, rainy, and a little cool; lots of soggy orange and red leaves on the shiny black pavement.  Cars swishing in the puddles as they pass.  No need for air conditioning any longer.  It's my favourite type of fall morning because the weather is miserable enough that I don't feel guilty about staying inside.  I enjoy the newspaper and my cup...huge mug, rather...of coffee and relax for the first part of the morning.  Then I'm startled out of my bubble of calm by the realization that the rental videos have to be returned very, very soon. To the store way, way downtown, where there will be no parking to be found on a brunchy Sunday morning.

This is the only decent video store we know, since our funky little neighbourhood store burned down.  Our new favourite has a good selection of  mainstream and "non-Hollywood" videos: foreign films, cult films, documentaries and British series; you get the picture.  Literally. (That would be a good name for a video store!)  Anyway, the guy who works there calls everyone "dude" whether it be a man or woman, senior or toddler.  He's in his late forties and I'm guessing he's not a skate boarder or a surfer from California....but maybe he is; I shouldn't be so quick to judge.  He does work in a cool video store, so I guess that gives him licence to "dude".  He's so cool, I want to impress him with my choice of dvd.  I often do not.  It could be my imagination, but he seemed rather let down when I chose "The Proposal".  Whatever, dude.

There was nothing remarkable about my little journey downtown….until I put a Green Day cd on.  It soundtracked my drive; in an instant, every mundane detail and moment sprang to life and became part of a real-time, living music video.  The seniors driving in front of me, the windshield wipers, the windows of stores and restaurants revealing the goings-on inside, the traffic signals.  I almost expected the grey day to switch to colour.  Since the opening lines of the first song that I played were  "Do you have the time, to listen to me whine, about nothing and everything all at once?", naturally I thought about this blog.  I'm trying to do some kind of post each weekend, but now it's Monday.  Still raining. 

At the store earlier, I picked up a magazine and added it to my little pile of groceries. It's a Canadian magazine, meant for women over 40. I find the title odd.  It's called "MORE".  It made me think: "More what?" More wrinkles? More health concerns? More chins? More stretchpants in the closet?   I have been feeling a little miffed lately at this whole ageing process.  I was looking so forward to being in my forties.  I told my friend Carolyn that we would start a "forty-tude" club. We'd celebrate our age with outrageous, colourful martinis and girls' weekends. We'd be daring; we'd embrace the decade to come.  She loved my optimism.  Hmmmm.  That was when she turned forty.  Then it happened to me.  After an amazing birthday weekend - a reunion of high school friends and current friends - it began: the descent into middle age. My warranty had run out, apparently.  My near vision started failing.  My sweet little baby tooth that had hung on since childhood had to be removed.  I really thought I'd have it forever.  As the doctor wrenched it out of my mouth, I felt as though he was yanking my youth away from me, too.  Now the little tooth - I call it "Chompy" - sits on my bathroom cabinet shelf alongside my ineffective contact lenses, my eye cream and my multivitamins.  Ew.  I know.  Throw that thing out.  Don't dwell upon things you cannot change.  Happily, something has helped me adjust my attitude towards getting older.  Recently, I was talking to someone who was turning fifty.  She actually said, with regard to the number, "The more, the better, eh?!"   It's so true.  The more years, the better.  Not the opposite.  The more, the better.   Maybe "MORE" isn't such a bad name for the magazine after all.