Several times today I clicked my iPhone on to check if it were Tuesday or Wednesday. That sums up the discombobulation of unemployment coupled with the kids’ Winter Break. I have no idea who I am or what day it is.

But life has a way of propelling one forward. I’d seen a video of someone making lasagna and my longing to eat that lasagna gave purpose to my day.

How much smaller life is than I once imagined it would be. Small goals, easily reached.

My husband has let me know in no uncertain terms that I can no longer classify myself as middle aged unless I plan to live to be 104. I insisted that the first ten years of life don’t really count, therefore I am obviously middle aged, even if I should die before I reach 100.

So I have small goals. I’ve given up the illusion that kids–mine or others–value my opinion or instructions. It’s so stupid, really, that once you add decades of life experience–plus a lot of reading and observing–younger people dismiss you because you’re old middle aged.

Whatever.

I wanted lasagna. I got in my daily exercise–the better to outlive you, my dear–and bought the ingredients. I cooked it. I ate it.

Here’s a tip for you youngsters.

Next time your eyes slide past a middle aged person as you search for someone who is exciting and relevant and unwrinkled, stop. Ask that invisible older person in your life, “What do you think?”

You might be surprised.

Meanwhile, I’ll be hiking and eating whatever I fancy for dinner because I can.