This morning I am typing away at a McDonald's, where I am the youngest customer by at least 40 years. And that's saying something--because I am no longer any Spring chicken. I dropped my kids off at school this morning, and since my youngest's class is hosting a Thanksgiving lunch, I thought I would stay out until then. Evidently, I have stumbled onto the cutest 80-year-olds'+ coffee hour at McDonald's. There is the sweetest buzz of conversation peppering the air. And like any good couples' event--the men are gathered at one long table, and the women are gabbing away at their own table.
I want to sit and just watch these groups, but there is a lone man reading a newspaper just across from me. Every time I look up to check out the old guys' table, newspaper man looks up. He's probably having his own conversation in his head, "That young lady in the red scarf is really checking me out this morning. Every time I look up from the Financial section, she is looking at me. I have to remember to wear this tweed jacket more often. Marge was right--I really do look distinguished."
Oh, the youngish manager has just walked over to the old guys' table, and is shooting the breeze with them. Smart manager. I can tell these old guys are regulars, and the breeze the manager is shooting with them is familiar. He just slapped one of them on the back and is laughing. I sure hope he didn't bruise the poor guy. Cause this manager is a hearty fella. He's a couple of hash browns past average.
I love watching older people. And I mean that in the most respectful way. As I watch them, I imagine what I will be like in 40 years. Will I be the lady in burgundy slacks, white sweatshirt with the words "Paris Sport Club," and matching burgundy turtleneck? Or will I be the lady in the black pants suit, with dark blond hair rounded and formed into a perfectly smooth finish with back-combing and hairspray? Older ladies always seem so put together. Everything seems smoothed down, matching, and deliberate. I guess I notice because my own life feels thrown together, haphazard, so--wow, I can't believe I have make-up on and have my hair fixed.
Do you ever watch older people, and wonder? Do you notice the old guys and smile, knowing their cute wives have picked out their sporty clothes? I wonder if my husband will be the renegade at 80 that he is at...dare I say it...nearly 50? (AAAHHHH, I am gonna PAY for that one!!!!) Please, dear God, tell me--will he still be wearing clothing that can only be purchased at Bass Pro shop? And, really--is there any possible way he will still be wearing that orange mad bomber hat? The hunter orange one that is FUR-LINED?? And, I need to know--do 80-year-old guys wear shorts?
Oh, I KNOW. I am no better. I am not being snippy. I realize I have my own clothing issues. I try to be all cool, checking out the fashions at American Eagle and Aeropostale', when what I really look like...is a 40-year-old woman...who would like to shop at American Eagle and Aeropostale', but can't believe "those girls' mamas would let them out of the house wearing THOSE THINGS." For crying out loud, I am wearing black slip on tennis shoes today that have the words "Easy Spirit" on them. I don't care how comfy they are, or that I bought them at T.J. Maxx. Show me a young person who wears Easy Spirit, and I will show you the elderly lady here at McDonald's wearing 7 jeans and a Justin Bieber sweatshirt. Not gonna happen.
Well, coffee hour (half day?) is still going strong. But, this middle-aged mama needs to head to a school Thanksgiving lunch. Sara Beth is very excited for her mama to sit beside her and share a meal. I watch the older ladies and marvel at their slow pace and easy conversations. But, honestly, there is no place I'd rather be this morning--and in life--than rushing around, and heading towards my daughter's lunch. Thanksgiving lunch is appropriate. Because I am very thankful. For where I am, and where I am heading....
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