Return of the Blogi

So I have started and stopped this blog post many times. I would start writing, and then stop and think, “Maybe I just don’t have anything left to say. Is any of this funny anymore? How long can I keep making the same old jokes?” But, despite my advanced age and tendency to repeat myself, I still have a lot of thoughts, most of which I mumble to myself throughout the day. So perhaps I will write them here, and perhaps you will read them. No worries if you don’t. Also, if you are an auditory learner, you are welcome to drop by anytime and eavesdrop on my mumblings.

So first, to clarify: I am now old. I know this for a few reasons:

1. Weddings always make you think of your wedding. But a few weddings ago, instead of reminiscing about July 3, 2000, a thought about a future wedding popped up, unbidden, into my head: Wow Ariella will be such a beautiful bride one day. Wait, huh? What was that? And with that thought, I quickly transitioned from “bride” to “mother of the bride.” The coup was silent and bloodless, you’ll be glad to know.

2. When we watch TV shows with teenagers, I realize we have more in common with the teens’ parents than the teens. (“Oh Buffy, you really should open up to your mother. She just wants what’s best for you.”

3.  A few weeks ago, someone posted in one of my (many) Modiin groups that they moved here with their baby and are looking to make friends with other young Anglos. And before I could raise my hand and say, "Me!" I read her comment that she and her husband are in their 20s. Oh. Or, not me. I mean, I'm not so old that I don't even remember my 20s anymore, but I'm old enough that my kids could babysit for her kids. We cannot be friends, young Anglo. But if you are looking for some sage advice from the local elders, well, this is probably the wrong place, too, since you are young and most likely are still planning on being a Great Parent and are probably not trying to test the absolute limit of how much you can ignore your kids before total chaos ensues. (“Mom’s log: Babies got into the toilet again and Nadav has paint on his hands. Older two nowhere to be found. Ignoring Level #215: Too high. Tomorrow, pull back to #214.5”) However if you want to know the ins and outs of Modiin Coffee, well, just pull up a rocking chair.

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Anyway, I will probably use this space to rant about stuff now, since I’ve found that being old has made me extra crotchety. And I hate the word “crotchety” because it's an uncomfortable word, like someone is trying to walk around with their underwear full of Lego pieces. But I’m using it anyway. Because that’s what crotchety people do.

And remember: Even when the world is full of scary things and stabbers, you can always come here to grumble about the little things. Because at ABA, we never let true suffering get in the way of complaining about life's minor annoyances. It’s kind of our thing. That’s all for now. See you here again soon.