I started Crotcheting when I was 10. And when I get going there is no stopping me!
I once made an afghan that got so huge and out of control that a friend asked, “Are you making a trailer cozy”? I lived in a trailer home at the time.
FYI if you don’t already know a Cozy = One of those things you put over a toaster, or a tea pot.
And yes, I am very crotchety. But I don’t think I got this way until I was about 40. I am 43 now. The worst part is that my son is only 4(almost 5), and his friends all have parents who are 15 -20 years younger than me. That makes me even more crotchety! Poor kid. He didn’t ask for a Crotchety old Grandma-mom.
I took my sisters on a road trip so they could see a Wilco concert, because I’m a good big sister like that. We stayed over night in a hotel and the next morning, they started playing…something on the mp3 player. I’m not sure what it was, just that the band is a current Indie Darling. I wish I could remember who it was, but they’re Very Very Popular right now.
So I shouted at them to “Turn off that goddamned noise.”
I’m 25–well, I was 25. I’m 26 now. Still, too young to be too old for the current Indie Darling!
My husband has been a crotchety old lady since I met him–when he was 18. I want to give him a cane just so he can shake it at people who displease him–he’s most displeased by “young people” when they “have fun.” Joy makes him scowl. I love him anyway.
There’s a picture of my father that I treasure immensely. It’s from the Sanfermines in which he was 15, riding a toy horse with his two best friends and wearing a HUGE grin (over his red’n’white, of course).
Mom met him when Dad was 17; she says AFASK he never was young. His siblings confirm this. That picture is proof that once, in July of 1953 and for about 20 seconds, my Dad was not a crotchety old man!
Am I the only one who heard “strap on” and “crotchety” and imagined a gun that straps on in the crotchal area. I have no idea how you would fire it though. Maybe by thrusting your hips, so you get a good work out and get rid of stupid people at the same time. Sounds like a win-win.
My biggest problem is that I don’t have the guts to be a full-on crotchety old lady.
I ride a commuter train to and from work most days. The cars are mostly: 2-seater bench, an aisle, and then a 3-seater. It makes me CRAZY that people will sit in the aisle seat and put their crap on the middle or window-seat, while there are people standing. I have gotten on the train in an air cast boot, carrying a laptop and an LCD player and still have to ask people to move.
If I were Crotchety and Proud, I’d give them shit. But instead, I walk up the aisle muttering under my breath, “Really? Your laptop needs its own seat?” and sighing.
I’ll share some of mine. I’m told by my children that my look can wither crops, drop strong men to their knees in fear and make children flee in terror. So bring it on, rude commuters! I’ll give you the Glare of Doom! And if that doesn’t work, I’ll give you a tongue-lashing old school style.
I’m still in the muttery state myself. Yesterday a guy told me to move my car, I politely said okay, then rolled up the window and told him to go fuck himself. He may or may not have heard; I have plausible deniability.