Wonder Years

Well today I am wondering what’s going on…I mean you hear people say “it’s a sign” but is it ?? or is it just damn freaky ?

You see here’s the thing … I am being haunted by birds! Two legged, feathered birds of all varieties…and it’s becoming weird.

I first noticed it on Australia day. We were wandering the back alleys of The Rocks in Sydney, soaking up the people and activities of the day … You know the stuff…really bad Karaoke, slightly less bad entertainment, crowds of people and generally great atmosphere.

Michael paused on a ‘bored husband’s chair’ outside a cafe, while Rose and I rummaged away in some of the jewellery and fashion stalls. When I turned, I saw him looking up, mouth wide and eyes even wider as he watched 2 beautiful rainbow lorikeets sharing a sugar sachet that they had pinched off the cafe table. YEP …. one of them flew down and grabbed the sachet (Bundaberg sugar of course)  and flew back to his mate on the branch where they proceeded to SHARE  the sweet granules.

We watched for a while as they swapped the job of holding and eating … it was amazing to watch the cooperation and the skill they showed in executing their plan (mind you I was worried about their risk of diabetes ).

Anyway, after a few pics to prove I was not making it up …we moved on, and since that day I have seen more birds than I have noticed in a lifetime.

Driving home from work 2 days after my lorikeet encounter, I spotted a large black crow that appeared out of the long grass with a golf ball in its beak. It placed the ball gently by the gutter and flew back to collect another ….and then another. ..

Next came the hawk/ eagle (I’m not good with bird identification) circling and swooping at a small nest in one of our backyard tress. We were floating in the pool when Michael noticed the massive shadow of this creature circling above. As we watched, he began swooping and eyeing off the small chicks in the nest, so we stood Marcel, our “scareman” out beside the tree in the hope of scaring him away … I’m happy to report that it worked (thanks Marcel ;-))

Then came the bower bird in the front garden, the dopey ducks on the driveway, the pigeon waddling down the middle of the cafe, the huge white cockatoo swooping the car as I drove on the M2 at the exact moment that I heard the news report of the emu that had been kidnapped from Featherdale Wildlife Park .

NOW tell me this is not all very weird …. It just leaves me wondering …..why???

Today’s wondering goes something like this….

Why is it that whenever a bunch of  ’50 somethings’ (or worse still 60 or 70 somethings) come together,  the topic of conversation always ends up being health.  Actually that’s wrong…NOT health but ILL health, ailments, broken bits and disease.

You know the stuff…the aching knees…, the sore back…, the indigestion…, the insomnia…,the haemorrhoids  bla bla bla.

Recently I was shopping in the local marketplace, and I witnessed 2 couples (high end ’50 somethings’) come together and greet each other enthusiastically.  Clearly they were four friends that had not seen each other over the previous year … (I know this because I was eavesdropping!)

After the initial pleasantries, it started.

Like a bidding war at an auction house, they traded stories of surgery and sickness hospitals and horror, like nothing else existed or even mattered. I stood within earshot pretending to read greeting cards, while I honed my senses and tuned in more closely to the frenzy of one-upmanship taking place just a few metres away.

After fifteen minutes of ever increasing volume, and the four of them all talking over each other, I had exhausted the card rack and I couldn’t take it anymore. I left this scene, swearing to never ever turn into those people.

Don’t get me wrong, OF COURSE we are all entitled to let it out… (after all who among us doesn’t have stories to tell)… and who better to share the horror stories with than your friends?…BUT surely there’s gotta be more to being ‘50 something’  than focussing on death, disease and despair like this beige bunch.  Rant over !

This middle age nonsense is such a mixed blessing  – just when you begin to feel comfortable in your skin and embrace the real woman within; society then throws you a curve ball to spoil your fun and ruin everything.

No longer are you asked for ID to prove your age to get into a club and go partying… Instead you start getting asked to show your Seniors Card, and being offered discounts on coffee and cake!!

What the ???

I have this gorgeous friend, a ‘58 vintage babe just the same as me. Fairly recently she struggled with the huge decision to cut her long locks to a ‘length more becoming of her age’ … (whatever that means).  Having taken that first plunge, she then decided to complete the transition by embracing the gradual grey take over … It’s a great look and suits her perfectly, but somehow this move back to mother nature has triggered a flood of offers for discount coffee.  How cruel people can be in their kindness.

mmm…I just wonder how many ’50 something’ men with smatterings of salt in their otherwise pepper hair, are targeted for a cheap cuppa?

So let’s not rush this “Seniors” thing …we may be ’50 something’ …but we’re not dead yet!!

Far from the series of the same name … (which was all about discovering yourself in adolescence), my WonderYears rambling starts more like “I wonder how I got to be 50 something?”. Last time I looked, I was cruising toward 40 and wondering “is this what it feels like to be grown up?”… well here I am and I am still wondering.

Don’t get me wrong … I’m not desperately clinging to my youth and refusing to accept the natural order of things, I just wonder how I woke up one day and found my life at least half spent ???

I’ve never been one to let the grass grow under, my feet … but I feel like this new revelation has hit me between the eyes. While some of my friends are talking about kicking back and taking it easy … I feel myself become terrified of winding down …and worse still becoming “beige”.

Recently while on holiday, we had lunch at a gorgeous little boathouse in a sleepy village on the north coast. After soaking up the sun and sipping on a champagne and watching the pelicans for a while …I suddenly became aware of our dining companions. Dotted around the deck of the boathouse were half dead couples, retirees who all looked like they had retired not only from work, but also from living, laughing and loving.  “aaarrrgh”… they were BEIGE… bland boring and beige!!

Growing up doesn’t mean being boring….I may be 50 something but I’m not dead yet!!