If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

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Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

On The Passage Of Time

No, this isn't about Christmas Knitting. (Although, I added up the potential number of hours I have to work on it and the number of hours of knitting I have left, and I have to conclude that someone is going to be disappointed. Besides me, I mean.)

This is about the actual passage of time. Let me backtrack a bit...

So I was knitting and watching some late night TV (my only free time) and one of the commercials was about this anti-aging moisturizer. They kept talking about "crepe-y" skin, whatever that is. Anyway, all the women they showed were about my age or younger. And I thought, OMG! Do I have crepe skin? (Whatever that is.) Am I walking around, revulsing people? Do I need some sort of 3-step lotion treatment like this one that's advertised?

So that has prompted me to seriously look at myself after stepping out of the shower every day. What's that? Is that crepe? I don't know. Looks fine to me. I assume I would be grossed out by crepe. Nothing is grossing me out. Am I okay?

Let me just say, I look damn good for my age. Not Michelle Pfeiffer good. Not Elle MacPherson good. But, you know. I see what other women my age look like. And I look pretty good. At least 5 years younger. So I have to assume I don't have any crepe. Whatever that is. What does that matter anyway? I was never an Elle MacPherson "10." Not on the outside. The brain... That was a 10. I only wish I could keep it. Unfortunately, time does to my brain what gravity does to my boobs.

Yeah. There's your visual image. Right there.

Anyway. So even though I don't have crepe-y skin (whatever that is) right now, I realize that might be in my future, with the passage of time. So you can imagine me, slathering on lotion like it was cool. Like I was getting paid for it. Like it burned calories.

So, that's what I've been doing--thinking about time (and lotion). And that was my state of mind last night when I watched a show about the end of the solar system. (It was actually about the end of the moon, but it applies.) One of the graphic depictions was of the sun's expansion to red dwarf status near the (relative) end of its life. The sun expands over all the inner planets, including Earth. Whoof. Crispy planets. Bye-bye.

Ok. Granted, this is billions of years in the future and you and I won't be around for this. But seriously? If the sun is just going to burn the planet and all trace of humanity, then what is the freaking point? Why are we even here?

And... Why are we not working on this problem? Are we just going to wait until the last minute? Because that's how you get crepe-y skin, folks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go apply some more moisturizer.


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