Every year after the show was over, the group of us would walk from the club back to the ferry dock and catch the boat to go home. The year that things changed, was the year we were walking through waterfront Seattle at around 2 in the morning and I noticed how embarassing it was to be part of the crowd I was with. They were my friends, but they'd also been partaking of the vine, so to speak, and they were just being absolutely stupid. I'm pretty sure I told them so, too. They were loud, they were obnoxious and they acted as if they were the only people on the the planet that mattered. That behavior was suddenly very obvious to me and that was the year everything changed, and the Comedy Club plans for New Year's Eve came to an end. It wasn't long after that, that the Holy Spirit got hold of my heart and everything else changed as well, by God's unspeakable grace.
I'm pretty sure it's a different age for everyone, but there seems to come a time in life when you hit the magical age where you suddenly realize what did/enjoyed/thought "when you were young" no longer applies or works for you anymore. I think for me the magical age for some of these things is 44. At 24 I could have easily shovelled the driveway really quick before I went out to run errands, and it wouldn't have bothered me in the least. At 44 however, it's a different story. Several days ago I had to do this before I left to get groceries, and before I even finished shovelling I knew I was in trouble. I felt the telltale twinge in the center of my back that says "you are SO going to regret this later, you old goat!". Sure enough, I'm still regretting it, as my back sends that shooting/stabbing pain in every direction if I turn certain ways. I'm pretty sure that this will pass in a few days, but it's just another sign that I'm at "that age". Another sign that tells me that I'm at that age, was the mistake of having Kev's world famous chili, plus hot salsa dip & tortilla chips on Thursday, then spicy Italian sausage pizza on Friday. My tummy has informed me in NO uncertain terms that those days are definitely over, much to my great sadness.
It's a strange time in life. While some of these things bother me a little bit (I love spicey Italian, whatever will I do!?), there's also an odd comfort, acceptance and a rather hard to explain eagerness as I look forward to getting older. No, I am not one of those women who freak out over getting old, and that's just more proof that I'm a very strange person. I do however refuse to give up wearing t-shirts and jeans, or sweatshirts and comfy fleece pants, even if I can't eat hot & spicey stuff or shovel the driveway like a 20something year old.