Aging & Attitude
“I’ve become blasé,” said a woman at the New Horizons Brunch for new members, ending our conversation that threatened to become passionate. She smiled, and took a step back to distance herself from me. She wore ‘big-girl’ shoes with a large fake rhinestone separating her first two toes.
“Blasé what a wonderful word,” I respond, but fail to keep her engaged. The crowded breakfast nook engulfs her lack of interest. Soft wrinkles languish her face, her tone aloof as she snaps her neck to suggest she was not always apathetic, it is an acquired skill.
She wears it well like a sophisticated article of clothing, dance attire. I want to be blasé. Blasé could be equivalent to Botox or Juvederm injections and cheaper. Her skin glows.
My mind escapes to a fantasy world and I morph into Betty Blasé, a new and improved self. When motorists drive in my trunk during the day, I flip the rearview mirror to ‘night-vision’, instead of yelling, “wrap yourself around a tree, see if I care,” and as they speed by, adjust the air conditioning, calmly.
I feel in control of my emotions and straighten my back to stand a little taller. The room is decorated in damask lined drapes hung high upon the wall and sparkling glass tables.
Surely, I can learn indifference when the Bagger in Publix double wraps my chicken in plastic after I hand him cloth and painstakingly explained the chicken gets naked next to my eggs and butter at home in our refrigerator.
Several New Horizon members drift towards the front door ready to leave. I promise myself the next time a group of kids covered with tattoos and reeking of profanity pass by I will NOT mumble, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
I exchange goodbyes with the host and mosey towards my car thinking, it is conceivable to yawn at newspaper stories debating those guilty of pet abuse; Obama, who ate dog or Romney, who transported Seamus, a pet, crated on a car roof. Just Saying
Love this Claudia. This may be my favorite work that you’ve done. Blase just might be the new chic or the old snobby. You decide. Lark
You paint such pictures with your prose. I enjoy each new installment…..Keep up the great work.
Thank you, thank you, Claudia
Blase sounds like my idea of perfection. God, I’d do anything to be more like that. To just not care. Unable to yawn at such newspaper articles, I’ve cut off the cable and stopped getting the paper. Now I just filled uninformed. “Did you hear about the….” my dad starts in, to which I reply, “No, you know I don’t get the news. What happened?” Our conversations are much more indepth now. I also lost half my garden to the latest freeze because I wasn’t tuned into the weather channel.
I nannied for a beautiful baby once whose mother was like this. The kid got into everything while I did my homework. The dogfood (which I had to DIG out of her mouth), my birth control pills. (She only took one.) I just knew I’d be fired when her mother got home. Instead she replied, “Eh, the dog food is nutritious. The dogs eat it.” And “Eh, at least I know she won’t get pregnant.” If I could bottle that attitude….
She lives in Alaska, has since had another kid, adopted more dogs, two ducks, drinks tons of red wine with her dinner and eats duck eggs for breakfast. She lives one day at a time. Ah, my blase hero. I’ve heard it comes with age. I want it right now. I don’t want to wait until I’m o-l-d to be happy and not give a squat. Pass the wine.
Now I’m embarrassed to say the whole wheat bread receipe I bragged about has white flour, sorry…just saying, Claudia
Jennifer, Perhaps a Zero Waste Blase’ policy is in the making. You maintain a blase’ approach to life, only using personal energy when absolutely necessary. What do you think? Claudia
I think I knew Blase in my hayday.. Where oh where did she go.. I need to check with Mr. “W” .. He may Know…
Marshal,, Mr. Wonderful is not saying. Was she an Elizabeth, Liz or Betty?