This guy that I work with has a stepmother that is a professional belly dancer. The best part about this is that she is in her late sixties. I've been thinking lately about how I can't wait to be a crazy old lady. Perhaps I will join a burlesque troupe. I don't necessarily want to be senile as I want to be cognoscente of the inappropriate things I am saying to the 19 year old bag boy at Whole Foods. Although I suppose being senile wouldn't be that bad, all the senile people I know seem to be having a lot of fun. Other people feel sorry for you but you don't really know or care why. All you know is that running around the grocery store with your pants around your ankles and showing up to Sunday brunch with blue eyebrows because you can't tell the difference in your eye pencils anymore seems to be a fantastic idea.
My Granny Grace showed me this as she slipped more and more into the sea of dementia that finally engulfed her. The fiery Texan red head who loved to watch professional wrestling and "her stories" now sat in her recliner rocking a baby doll that my mom had brought her. She looked down at the empty eyes of a child's toy and told it that she knew it wasn't real but that she would hold it and rock it and love it just the same. I once heard it said that as we progress nearer to the end of this life we begin to regress back to our youth once again. I think it is God's way of giving us a second chance to be a kid again just in case we missed the first time.
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