Friday, May. 23, 2008
Dear Diary:

Thursday I turned 57. The spousal unit and I put off celebrating until today because the daughter is coming home for the weekend. Always more fun with the spawn in attendance.

Fifty-seven is kind of a wimpy age, really. You have all the inconveniences of aging, but you don't get the senior citizen discount.

Oh, how I covet the senior citizen discount.

Believe me, I am not joking.

The year I turn 60 businesses will fall over themselves to give me stuff. My bank will wipe out all service charges. All service charges. After May 22, 2011 I plan to use my debit card at least 53 times a day because I won't have to pay $.40 every time I use it.

Yesterday I was on the Via Rail web site booking a train trip back to my home town this summer to celebrate my stepmother's 80th birthday. I went mental over the discounts and perks that come with turning 60. Not only is the travel rate cheaper, there are options for your partner to travel with you at discounts that range from half price to FREE.

FREE.

The word free makes me feel tingly.

Alas, I'm in that twilight zone where I am stupidly old, but not stupidly old enough for businesses give me stuff or discounts simply because I am stupidly old.

It's hard not to be bitter.

Three years.

Just three more years and The Senior Citizen Discount will be MINE. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I am probably the only woman on the planet who actually wants to be 60.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 192.11 miles.

Going Nowhere Collaboration

Goal for 2008: 500 miles


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.