Crossing Miriam

I realized this morning that I am morphing into an old shaky-voiced lady.

For one thing, I am totally and completely smitten with crossword puzzles. Before you try to tell me that crosswords are not inherently old and geeky (and you KNOW you were about to jump all over that pope-mobile), consider the predominance of pre-1950's celebrity clues. I'm thinking of boning up on my swing-band leaders and Socialist Republics just to improve my performance. The hipper puzzles display their "current" news by including obscure Nixoniana.

Having kids makes you instantly older. By like, 15 years. Not just emotionally and physically, but in the perception of all the members of the world without children. Think about it- who are you more likely to call (shudder) Ma'am, rather than the much perkier and less saggy Miss? A hunch-backed purse-lipped woman wrangling a squirmy and gently slobbering yet adorable boy or a perky, fast-walking woman who has had time to style her own hair and is emerging from the corner coffeeshop without a care in the world?

Then there's how being a wife makes you sound older: incessant nagging and shrewery. I'm working on some sort of system for this, because my delicate voice can only take so much whinging.

Also, I don't understand where fashion is headed. And I can't figure out what to do with my drabsville hair because I'd like it not to look trailer-parky. Kids these days...