Making Merry at Middle Age

It’s a little different lately putting the “oh what fun!” into the holiday season, what with a bad back and all these food sensitivities piling up. Bette Davis spoke the truth when she quipped, “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.” Well, the yuletide hustle and bustle ain’t never been one for sissies either—the mall alone is kill or be killed from Black Friday through New Year’s Eve—but middle age adds a whole new element. Now I know why Ma was already in her kerchief and ready for that long winter’s nap. Whew.

I have, and will always, love Christmas. It’s my favorite time of year. The sparkle, festivities, the spirit of the season. I can never get enough. However, as time marches on, I find the way I celebrate is changing. For example, my beloved eggnog has now been replaced with a lactose free version. On Christmas Eve, we will take the time to conjure up a semi-delicious homemade recipe that passes muster; however, sometimes you need a quick fix—like last week, when we were decorating the tree and wanted a sip of the eggy elixir to toast our efforts. While Clint poured a thick, creamy wonderment from an actual glass bottle, I served myself a cup of all that was left in the lactose-free section of our grocery store: a product called Malk. Almond milk eggnog. It seemed innocuous enough. What it turned out to be was a watery, vile, almond-based disappointment. If you don’t want to give a lump of coal to those on your naught list, give Malk. Sometimes nothing tastes better, and in this case, the best way to enjoy eggnog-flavored Malk is to pour it down the drain where it belongs. I didn’t check the label, but it has to be manufactured by Grinch Industries, Inc.

Pour me another glass of Malk, said no one ever.

I also noticed my Christmas wish list has changed a bit this year. I seem to be asking Santa (and my gift giving family) for the gift of youth, healthy, and vitality rather than my usual requests for sweaters, jewelry and cosmetics. On my list this season: a grounding sheet (all the rage to help with arthritis and inflammation…ooh, la, la), an anti-wrinkle collagen-boosting facial wand, and a snazzy new pair of bedroom slippers. If this trend continues, by next year it will be a bag of prunes and some handlebar streamers for my Rascal scooter. Maybe if I’ve been really good, throw in a pair of compression socks, but a girl hates to get greedy.

This is me, zooming towards next Christmas.

We have a long list of our favorite Christmas movies to watch, but it’s hard to fit them in when you need to be in bed by 10:00 each night. I guess that’s why senior citizens like to do dinner so early—a wise move, indeed. Perhaps if I move our dining up to 5:30, and since it gets dark by mid afternoon this time of year (an unlikely advantage of the abysmal Daylight Saving Time), we could drive around and look at Christmas lights, watch A Muppet Christmas Carol, and I could still clock eight hours of rest?

I’m realizing that you can be merry at middle age, it’s just that, like most everything else, it takes a little more planning and effort. It’s like a mental pill-a-day organizer, only instead of vitamins, probiotics, migraine medicine, and cholesterol pills, you measure out a little movie time, a lunch with a friend, Christmas light excursions, a dash of enjoying some holiday treats (that fit your dietary restrictions, but of course), some gift wrapping, and some holiday parties. Santa doesn’t look like such a fine young thing, and he’s hanging in there just fine, so we are in good company.

Maybe we should ask him if he needs us to leave out some Malk this year with all those cookies?