On the Loose

When I am too lazy to think up a new theme, i go to my documents file and copy something down from the past. I did this tonight and hope nothing objectionable shows up in it


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On The Loose

In days gone by, we used to sing a little ditty that went like this:
“What makes a lady of eighty go out on the loose
What makes a gander meander in search of a goose
It’s not the season, the reason is plain as the moon
It’s just Elmer’s tune.”
This meaningless little tune popped into my head this morning and caused me to ponder. What does a lady of eighty DO when she goes out on the loose? We know what the gander does, and it is not a pretty sight. The goose never seems too pleased about it, either. But a lady of eighty? The thought boggles the mind.
Does she go out on a search for a seventy-year old toy boy still hot to trot? Will she remember what to do if she finds him? Or does she bust into a disco bar and dance herself into tachycardia? Or find an ice cream parlor and treat herself to a double hot-fudge sundae and end up in a diabetic coma? What would I do if I heard Elmer’s song and went on the loose?
Eighty-year-olds, or eighty-five or eighty-seven year olds are capable of amazing feats. My eighty-seven year-old cousin flew down to Mexico and went scuba diving with her son-in-law. Another cousin climbed a mountain. My sister, at eighty-five, eloped with a wealthy gentleman who had come to her hometown to bury his first wife, and they are kicking up their heels all over the place. What would I do if I heard Elmer’s song?
To start with, I would sleep late. I would turn the clock to the wall and let myself indulge in my fondest fantasy – a day of doing absolutely nothing.
I would recklessly drink two cups of coffee, and resist the urge to unload the dishwasher. I would neither swiffer the floors nor vacuum the rugs. I would pet the cat and go outside to the rose garden and sit and watch the butterflies and humming birds. I would eat when I chose and what I chose. If the time seemed to drag and I got bored, I could go inside and watch a movie on television or take a walk down by the creek. I might meditate down on the bench under the redwoods and listen to the wind chimes above.
What would my husband be doing while I indulged myself so shamelessly? He likes to cook and would probably go into the kitchen and bake a cake or cookies. He would listen to his book tapes. He would take a nap. He would miss me not a whit.
So why don’t I go ahead and just do it? I haven’t yet heard Elmer’s tune and until I do, I am locked into my old routine which isn't all that bad, anyway. Night all. Keep in touch.