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Ask Roxane: Is It Too Late to Follow My Dreams? – The New York Times
Ask Roxane: Is It Too Late to Follow My Dreams? – The New York Times
“The older we get, the more culturally invisible we become, as writers, as people.”
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Barred: Crackerjacks Pub
When: Wednesday, 7:20pm
Crackerjacks (no apostrophe) looks like it has been there for years. I don’t know, it might have been (and I don’t want to look it up). I don’t remember it from my youth, though it’s entirely possible that it has been on this corner at the edge of Northwest Portland since the ‘70s, more like a hold-out year-after-year. Ok, I looked it up–it’s been there since 1982.
Along with the Lighthouse, this has become one of my favorite Portland dives, discovered in middle age. Strangers give me compliments. There are marionberry jello shots. Also, $4 beer and wine at happy hour, plus something called “krispy kritters.”
An illuminating conversation started unfurling on the outdoor patio, between what I eventually gathered was a brother and sister. The woman, with her back to me, dressed in many shades of army green with a hooded, non-puffy vest, and a tuft of gold-blonde hair with dark brown roots,. appeared to be on the middle-age cusp so I paid particular attention to her for clues.
As if on cue, she said, “when we’re old farts…”
The brother, bald with a gray beard, the de facto look for 75% of men over 40 in the NW, countered, “I’m much more likely to die before you.“
“Part of being an adult is you care about your health,” said the sister, and I realized we were the only two not smoking at the mostly occupied picnic tables.
“Let’s be honest, I’m not going to have a baby.” Which I would rather have heard from the sister not the brother. Then, while lighting a cigarette, “I’m not trying to kill myself.”
“You’re not going to find a partner like that.”
“I’m not going to find a partner anyway.”
Age appropriate? There has been plenty of non-young women on several occasions. A woman by herself announced that she was 48, unprompted. Well, kind of prompted by the young woman sitting nearby who recognized all the ‘80s songs playing. “How old are you?” the 48-year-old asked. Almost 24.
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9 to 5
I mostly noticed this interview with Patricia Resnick, the “9 to 5″ screenwriter (who was only 26 at the time) posted on Facebook because this image is very relevant to my interests.
But then, I immediately wondered if any of these actresses were over 40 at the time since women–well, people generally–just had more mature looks in the ‘80s. (Practically everyone in my high school year book, which technically was class of 1990, looks 25.) And my perception is clouded by being a child during that decade. All adults seemed old.
Dolly Parton, it turns out, was the only youngster (34). Lily Tomlin was 41 and Jane Fonda 43.
It goes without saying that this film’s relevance 37 years later is kind of bleak.
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If You’re Single and Don’t Have Kids, Tracee Ellis Ross Has a Message For You
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List: Signs That You Are a Gen-Xer Going Through Menopause
List: Signs That You Are a Gen-Xer Going Through Menopause
Still menstruating, guys, but this hurts.
Also, I can say “guys” because I’m Gen X and am insensitive.
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Fanelli Cafe
When: Tuesday, 1:21pm
I had to be in Soho on the morning of my 45th birthday, then I ended up playing hooky the rest of the day, ultimately eating steak tartare at Balthazaar and a slice of ice cream cake at Parm, which a stranger paid for. But first I decided to stop into Fanelli, a neighborhood respite. The main vibe at that moment was European tourists drinking coffee and soda (and not tipping like cliches). I was ready for beer.
A gentleman from Latvia who traveled to Fanelli from Bay Ridge monthly, sat next to me and ordered vegetarian chili with sour cream and a glass of red wine. I determined he was 84 since he said he had been married to his second wife, 48 (and no kids) at the time of the wedding, for 28 years and he is eight years older than her.
The numbers mostly stood out because last year my boyfriend asked, “What’s wrong with being a 48-year-old bride?” Um, everything. I hate the idea irrationally. And now I’m one year closer to 48.
Otis, my new Latvian friend, bought me a birthday beer. He had a second glass of wine, and then was replaced by a loud advertising industry asshole who made me move down a seat and proceeded to hold court with rapt coworkers, yapping until the quiet man reading a book on my other side said, “You had to deal with that old guy. Now this guy.” I would take one hundred old guys over this 30something monster.
Age appropriate? Yes. One of those European tourists was a woman in her 60s with blonde dreads. I want to say she was Dutch but I have no idea. That screams Dutch, right?
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Screen Time: Strange Weather
I do like Netflix for surfacing random indie movies that I don’t recall ever playing in theaters. I mean, I a lot of them aren’t very good (Blue Jay) but it can be a break from all of the blockbusters a la Stranger Things (this Tumblr theme does not let my italicize which is maddening).
Strange Weather featuring a rather sinewy Holly Hunter (as well as Carrie Coon) was my latest find. It was not bad, though the reviews were not great. I love her in Top of the Lake and also appreciated her role here as Darcy, a mother seeking answers from her dead son’s friend who has gotten rich off of a stolen idea for a hot dog chain.
Apparently, you can still smoke indoors in Georgia.
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Rippers
When: Friday, 2:11pm
I came face to face with my evil twin seated at a picnic table at Rippers on a summer Friday during my annual trek to a New York beach. We were both wearing sunglasses, and I always think people are staring at me when I’m stoned, so maybe it was my imagination that this woman was locking eyes intently with me. She definitely was mouthing what I thought were songs playing, not actually singing aloud, though maybe she was trying to communicate with me. We were roughly the same age, height, body type, though she was blonde and I’m a graying brunette. She had a small faded Snoopy tattoo on her upper arm where I have a small faded Hello Kitty (that I re-energized and elaborated on the year before last). She was extremely tan with red sunburnt patches and I am pale. She was drinking wine out of a plastic cup while mine was filled with beer. She was a dog person based on her tote bag. I like cats.
Summer 2016 I got in a not-quite-fight on my annual beach trip and later ended up puking all over garbage bags on the sidewalk. I never talked to that friend again. So, beach trip 2017 sparked less drama, which had held true for the entire year to date.
Age appropriate? Most NYC beaches are, though the Rockaways are the most millennial-friendly.