My 100th (and very purple) Post!

In honor of my 100th post I of course wanted to do something special. But what exactly? Some options I tossed around included listing 100…somethings. Things I love? Things I hate? Random musings? 100 uses for my beloved dash? I nixed that idea once I recognized I was neither clever nor patient enough to come up with 100 things anyone would want to read–let alone 100 things I’d want to proofread.

Thought #2 was to just showcase my 100 favorite blog posts so far.

Get it?

For idea #3 I thought to myself: What about doing a post on how I envision myself when I’m 100 years old? Ooh! And what about that poem I read when I was a kid that I just loved about getting old and wearing purple? That could be my post right there! Brilliant!

So here it is–a simple cut & paste of a poem I remembered reading as a kid–and thinking at the time: That’s how I want to be when I get old.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other peoples’ gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.”
-Excerpted from the book When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple, by Jenny Joseph

Well imagine my alarm as I re-read this poem–years later–through the eyes of the person I am TODAY! I am shocked and amazed people! Shocked. And. Amazed.

Let’s recap, shall we?

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
(Purple is the hot new color this fall and I have every intention of wearing it now.)
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
(Meh. We’ll see.)
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
(Without. A. Doubt.)

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops (I already do this–remember my Sam’s Club raid?) and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
(I’m not even touching this one.)
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
(Uh–check this one off the list. Mission already more than sufficiently accomplished.)

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other peoples’ gardens
(Do other people’s weeds count? If so, check this one off the list too.)
And learn to spit.
(Um…yeah…check.)

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
(How about three pounds of pizza ?)
Or only bread and pickles for a week
(Been there, done that–it’s called college.)
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
(Hoarding?? Please. We all know this one’ll never stick–no matter how old I get.)

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
(We must?)
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
(Who said??)
And set a good example for the children.
(I have not received this memo!!!)
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
(Does wine count as “dinner” and the Today Show count as “papers?”)

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
-Excerpted from the book When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple, by Jenny Joseph, with additional commentary added by G&D.

So this clearly begs the question:

When the hell did I turn 100?

And why the hell didn’t anyone tell me?? Apparently that last paragraph really stuck with me at the tender age of 10 (also known as 90 years ago) when I first read this. Eesh!

Somebody pour me a brandy.

Related Posts:
I Can’t Believe I’m Spitting 70 Years Before My Time
If I’m 100, Then She’s 101.
But Hey–We’re Both Still Younger Than These Guys!
And This Stuff Must REALLY Be Worth Its Weight In Gold!!