I am old on the inside

I can’t wait to get old and retire. Well, I guess I can wait, but I already have plans. I will get an old lady helmet hair perm, and enjoy my weekly gossip filled salon visits. i will yank my pants up too high (I’m guessing they will be corduroy) and act like I don’t see anyone else as i bump my cart into everyone when I am shopping at the grocery store. I will barely be able to peer over my steering wheel and if I bother to parallel park (as I will actively seek pull-through parking lot spaces* whenever possible) I will bump off of both surrounding cars every time. I will go directly to the window at the post office despite the giant line because hey – I’m old. i don’t have time to wait and no one will get mad at me because I am old. And even though I could take a minute to figure out what is going on, I will just act confused and get my problem solved right away (at least that is what I guess they are thinking when that happens EVERY time I am at the post office). I will probably die surrounded by weird collections of something that I couldn’t bear to throw out – like yogurt containers or wine corks (I have a dangerously sizeable collection of these already). I will be surrounded by a million cats. I don’t have a cat, but I love them. I am saving it up for future crazy-cat-ladyhood.

In the mean time i figure it is that crazy little old lady inside me that thinks things like these are the most wonderful things ever.

More pics.

They are crocheted Chair cushions!! Aren’t they fantastic? I am guessing from the questionable “uh-huh” response all my friends give me when I ask them that question that it might be my inner granny that is irrationally captivated by these things. They are pretty much the entire reason I bought a whole Japanese Craft book. did you notice that the first one is ALL little poofy flowers?! I already have a recipient for one of these fantastic cushions:

My desk chair. It will look great with a square cushion, don’t you think?

* In my family these parking spaces are called “Aunt Carmella Parking spaces.” my great Aunt Carmella was the designated transporter of all of my great aunts and she would only park in parking spaces that she could pull through. The only thing she ever backed out of was her driveway.

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