Leftovers for dinner. Although maybe he’ll make a marinara sauce for some fresh pasta. Not fresh, as in home made. Fresh, as in not part of the leftovers. Yeah, still working on these leftovers from bring-in birthday dinner. Not too much made in the way of a Happy Birthday. Eh, maybe the day before. Friends brought gourmet desserts for a combo post-New Year’s/birthday wishes visit. They remembered my birthday. Sharon did, probably. She’s good that way. They were creamy. Good for my throat. My esophagus. That’s all I could eat. I’m afraid to eat now. The broccoli, the choking and the Heimlich (I thank my husband for saving my life). The EMTs left minutes before the friends arrived. Played it safe the next night, birthday night. Proper celebration this Friday night – at a local Italian BYOB. Normally, I’d say, who’s celebrating 51? Well, I am, now.
Been reading and studying up on aging. Been watching a lot of movies about it. We saw “Youth.” Artsy and different, eclectic. One that takes a brightly open mind to ponder its message and enjoy the cinematography (as part of the) abstract storytelling. Read The Ageless Spirit, edited by Phillip L. Berman and Connie Goldman, too. I think AARP sent it to me as part of a 50th-birthday -eligibility package. This aging: it’s fascinating me partly with the 92 year old here and with said birthday. Just a number, really. Today, I had the 92 year old doing leg lifts and curls. She did a lot more than I thought she would/could. She likes to listen to me read. Although it would seem at times that I’ve put her to sleep — mainly because she’s completely titled over in her chair — but, upon stopping and inquiring if she’s listening, she knows just where we are and what’s going on. Three hours, today. You’d think I’d be done with this book I’m (we’re) reading for book club, which I didn’t like at all – when I started it. Thought it a little lame and below (book snob that I am) standards for book club. It’s a murder mystery, and apparently the first in a series. When you consider that our first book was Night, by Elie Wiesel, you can see what I mean. Ah, it’s not so bad. It picked up, but we are straying pretty far from our March Classics month theme, a little Middlemarch (George Eliot) maybe?
I take the elder to the movies a bit. She does quite well actually. She’s funny, too. She talks about the other seniors. She comments on how old they are when in truth, she’s probably the oldest one in the theater. Maybe it’s vanity keeping her going. She takes it to a whole new level. We’ve seen all the latest: “Joy”, “The Danish Girl”, “Carol”, “Youth” (as previously stated), and “Brooklyn.” My book club read Brooklyn by Colm Toibin quite a while ago, and my recall is that I felt the story closely. I’m all about the Irish and Italian immigrants. I’m currently working on researching my husband’s Italian lineage, we’re so close to Italy that his paternal grandfather was born in Conca della Campania and crossed in 1907. I will say, however, that I really enjoyed the movie version of “Brooklyn.” The book, as I recall, left the ending ambiguous, whereas the movie gave the expectant audience its answer. Hey, I’m all for not finishing endings, because life goes on and isn’t always able to provide that happy or sad ending. Why do we have to know. Why can’t we wonder? Like from another movie I saw recently: “Manhattan Romance” by Tom O’Brien. That’s even the sentiment in the movie – from the author – from the documentarian. See the movie!
In this light, I have no fancy finish to this post. And, as it seems, I have let the 92 year old nap too long.