You Know You're Old When....

I spent most of my mid-50s to 60s pining after food.  I grew up without lacking sustinence, even though much of Mom's menu would likely be poo-poo'd nowadays, for canned was big back then.

This photo is proof-positive of my words. In 2009 I was alone on Ruff Life down in Puerto Rico, trying to get her in enough shape to sell so I could follow 'the Captain' back to America.  Just a bit of backstory.

For months I worked with limited electricity and water; swealtering days of sanding, painting and other repairs (click on link for Befores and Afters).  I had hardly any money and was sick of dreaming of food; until one day, weak with desire, I decided,

"If I can't buy the food I want, I'll PAINT it!"  My refrigerator, left unplugged to conserve power, had become a storage cabinet and I had the door all planned out; but sold the boat before I could finish that project.

I sent Ben & Jerry's a picture and they rewarded me with a nice letter from Customer Service, along with the magnet on the bottom right of my current collection (r). Companies don't do that anymore.

Back on dry land, $5 hot chickens sold at Walmart were a splurge I'd allow myself on special occasions.  I'm past those bleak times but still rarely eat out, even fast food, which has become outrageous.  But a couple weeks ago I went for a walk on the beach and decided to treat myself (for exercising) at the Chinese counter in Safeway.

Some dishes I could identify but not all.  I chose General Tso's Chicken with rice; plus an eggroll.

"For another dollar you have have TWO entrees and it already comes with an eggroll or 2 potstickers."

Couldn't pass up that Friday special.  I asked what I was looking at and she rattled off Chung King-This, Szechuan-Chu-That and the like, to my ignorant ears.  OK, I'll also have (and pointed to the sliced pork).  While I was struggling for a name she advised,

"That isn't an entree."  A woman had arrived and stood to my bad, right side so I couldn't see her clearly.

Then what is it, I wondered silently.  Hmmm..."Ok, what's that again?"

She repeated all my choices, patiently; but the waiting woman began shuffling, breaking my concentration.

"OK, I'll have the Sesame-Orange Chicken."

"Those are two different dishes, you have to choose one or the other."

"AW, C'MON," I heard off my starboard side

The deli-gal momentarily paused and I was proud of myself for controlling Amy's mouth and not moving a muscle, took all my concentration.  I was not going to allow her to spoil my treat.  After I finalized my selection, neither rushing nor apologizing for being me, I finally turned to look. Here's how I described her to the first person I told:

"She looked like a skinny, stringy white-haired crack-head on her lunch break, probably."  That was harsh but I was peeved.  I knew if I said a word she'd berate me like those people at the recent No Kings protest, but she avoided my glance. Good thing for all involved.

Which brings me back to the title - for me this was it - being harangued for being confused, aged, or something else.  How can they know I've been like this my whole life?  Another lame attempt at public humiliation to boost someone's self-esteem, you see it all the time, from people who post horrid ratings without first attempting to contact a Seller to politicians becoming octogenerians.