Oh, the Different Sides to the Aging Process

Age is creeping up on me.

Sometimes it doesn’t creep. Sometimes it comes flying at me like a meteor screaming across the sky.

I’m not necessarily talking about the typical aches and pains and strains and creaks we all go through.

Oh, I’ve got those. But I’m aging in different ways, too. I’m changing.

I’ve always enjoyed fast food. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine. And judging by the way the drive-through lanes are wrapped around the building regardless of the time of day, I’m not alone.

I used to be a burger and fries guy.

But I have fallen in love with fast food fish.

Fish.

I’ve never particularly loved fish in any capacity before — except for fried catfish if it’s done right.

But now, I find myself craving for a teenager to hand me a sack full of fried cod through the window.

Nothing says aging more than choosing a fast-food fish place over a burger joint.

Here’s another example.

It involves food as well.

Kim always makes a traditional St. Patrick’s Day meal.

This year we got the makings for reuben sandwiches to use with the leftover corned beef.

We bought rye bread, Swiss cheese, thousand island dressing and sauerkraut.

Just for fun, I tasted the sauerkraut by itself, which is something I never would’ve done 10 years ago.

For the record, I honestly thought it was “sourkraut.” When autocorrect fixed it for me as I was making my list, I looked it up just to confirm.

But anyway, it was delicious. Sour still, but delicious.

I highly recommend you maturing folks out there give it a spin if you haven’t tried it since a parent made you.

No dissertation about the aging process would be complete without a complaint about drivers.

About nine out of 10 cars out there irritate me these days.

That’s up one from just a few years ago, which further indicates my patience is thinning along with my hair.

Of course, those heretics who don’t look up from their phone when the light turns green, and the unmentionables who don’t use turn signals will always lead the peeve parade.

But those people who drive ultra-loud vehicles are brand new to the list of annoyances on the road.

Why on earth would someone want their car to be as loud as a commercial jetliner? How do they talk to the person in the passenger seat?

Sometimes, I think there probably isn’t anyone in the passenger seat, and their lack of a functioning muffler is a way of compensating for their unpopularity.

And I think people drive faster these days, even in the middle of town. I get amused watching the car beside me beat me to the next red light, and to the next, and to the next.

I’ve never seen a prize given out to the first one who can pour on the gas and come to a screeching halt three times in three city blocks.

OK, go jump in your muffled car. Go to the store, and get you some kraut.

And treat yourself fo some fast food fish. You’ve earned it.