Recently I had the urge to revisit a song. Happily there was a video as well. Some songs are just so awful they are brilliant. This is one such song. It’s called “Fish Heads” and it is done by a group called Barnes & Barnes. Apparently it was shown in 1980 on SNL, which explains where we likely saw it, as we didn’t have kids yet and could stay up and watch SNL without passing out during the opening monologue. We used to sing this song all the time even when we didn’t want to. Talk about ear worms, this is the night crawler of earworms. This is the king cobra of earworms. The lyrics are simply about fish heads doing things that fish heads oughtn’t do. This doesn’t sound bad but believe me, it is. SOOO bad. In fact, it has sunk through the hole at the bottom of the toilet of badness and returned to claim its place in the sun like the victims of Motel Hell.
Anyway, I had the urge to watch “Fish Heads” again, and to my delight I still enjoyed it. It has aged well. It’s just as bad/good now as it was in 1980. Then, while walking Chester, I thought about things that age well and things that don’t.
Well: peeps. According to my husband they actually improve with age.
Not well: a container of something that I left in my car for a whole year during the pandemic. I recently fished it out..sing it everybody…fish heads, fish heads…
I want to age well. I have another 30 years or so according to the psychic in New Orleans, so I have to start thinking about it in another ten years or so. Seriously though it’s not like I don’t have any good role models. My mom died when I was young and impervious to aging. But my Aunt Alice lived a nice long life and was the epitome of aging well. She was royaler than a queen to me. She played the piano her whole life and held herself with grace and kindness.
Grace and kindness…I want to be these things. I am not. I am generally kind but my thoughts vacillate between “I understand” to “What on God’s green earth were you thinking?” I used to not feel bad about it, I just figured it was my lot in life to be a smart ass. Then I attended this class where they told us to look (not really look but pretend) at ourselves and ask “would I want to be this person’s friend?”
That threw me. Now, every time I have a sarcastic comment or put down I feel like a bad person. No, I would definitely not want to be that mean girl’s friend! Sigh… what a complete pain in the butt. How am I supposed to age gracefully when I have literally no practice. What can I do? I want my kids to be proud of me, and better yet, I want my grandkids to be proud of me (it’s too late for the kids). I don’t want people to avoid me because I’m a jerk. I want people to call and see if I can go out for coffee. Well, most of the time I want that, the rest of the time I want to sit and watch the British Baking Show.
It’s going to be a long 30 years. I figure the best hope I have is to forget about it and think about something else. So while Chester and I were walking I thought of what I want to accomplish.
I want to learn Spanish. I’d like to learn the program Finale. I want to read about Anne Reinking and Gypsy Rose Lee. I’d like to learn something about Czechoslovakia.
I want to say the right thing without putting my foot in it. I want to be able to talk about something interesting for once. I want to remember somebody, anybody’s birthday in time to get a card to them. Thank God for facebook on that score but it’s not enough time. I’d have to remember to look ahead and that isn’t feasible.
I want to be fearless. If I want to zipline I will (I don’t but could be talked into it). I want to write a book and submit it until I don’t feel like it, regardless of rejections. I think I’ll get another tattoo that says fearless so I don’t forget. Then try to live up to it. Suck it up buttercup.
Speaking of buttercups, our crocuses have literally exploded into bloom. OK, maybe not literally, exploding crocuses would be awesome though. They seem to have tripled in number. I see the squirrels have been busy too, moving around the bulbs. Some must have been buried in my Hosta garden because I didn’t plant them there. Spring has arrived in Cleveland. It’s a beautiful thing. It’ll probably snow this weekend but hey, it has to snow on the daffodils 3 times before winter is over. Then we can move on!
Chester has become insistent at the CVS drive-through. They always give him a biscuit. (remember, Milk Bones = doggie crack) The last time he was boring into her face with his eyes until she looked at him. “Does he want a biscuit?” she asked.
Gaaaah…….no he wants to eat you, stick your hand in here just a little further…
“Yes thank you. He would love one.” Maybe I’m learning to age gracefully just a little.