Another Undeniable Sign I'm Growing Up

I now identify more with the Chez Quis maitre'd from Ferris Bueller's Day Off than I do with the title character of that same film. Why? What brought on this paradigm shift? Well, to be honest, I was never much of a rule-breaker. Want an example? There was one time in high school when I didn't go back to class after a little theater thingy that took place in the middle of the day. My cohorts begged me to stay in the theatre with them, because if I went back for those last precious 15 minutes of U.S. History, then we'd all have to go back to class. I caved to the peer pressure, but I had sweaty palms for the rest of the day.

So Ferris wasn't exactly telling my story up there on the silver screen. The other day, though, I was looking for a friend's MySpace page (for reasons I can't go into here), and I pulled up a whole bunch of teenagers with the same name. Oh, the atrocious spelling errors, punctuation errors, and other crimes against language. And these travesties were just in the names, quotes, and stats that flash up with a MySpacer's picture. I can't imagine the visceral pain that would have been mine had I clicked open any of their pages. And I thought, "I weep for the future," which is easily one of the top 10 quotes for Ferris Bueller's Day Off, spoken by the gentleman at the top of this post.

If this is what I'm like at 32, the neighborhood kids better watch out. All of those basketballs that bounce in my front yard? They are MINE, baby.

Really? Since 1998?

Over the weekend, I was leisurely thumbing through Real Simple when I had a chronological reality check. Gladware's been on the market for NINE years. No it hasn't. Oh, wait, really? It has? Since I saw it in print, it must be true. I don't think anyone stands to gain anything from fudging the year Gladware appeared on store shelves.

Anyway, this is further proof that I am aging, because I still think of Gladware as a relatively new food storage trend. Like I'm being all trendy when I buy a stack of it or something.

My Only Experience with Hair Coloring Has Been Henna and Sun-In. Should Be Interesting.

Okay, gray hair, it was cute when you started appearing a couple of years ago. Lonely corkscrews would manifest along my part, only a inch or so long. I'd pluck you, and shrug my shoulders at my body's tiny acknowledgement that I am getting older.

But lately I've been finding more of you amidst my lovely locks of brown and red. And you, Oh Strands of Silver, you aren't little anymore. Nope, you run the full length of my eight inches of bobbed glory. I'm not sure which disturbs me more: that my hair color hormones are fading, or that I didn't notice you in your infancy.

Either way, I am fast approaching that fork in the road, the one where I decide to color over the gray or let it flow. Not sure which path I'll take, but I'm thinking that Robert Frost's advice is going to lose out on this one. Time to do some research...the only thing I know not to use is Grecian Formula.