For the ages

The Grim Reaper age estimator consistently assesses me as ten years younger. I could pretend that student life keeps me fresh and hip, but we all know it’s the hopping, the hopping, the incessant hopping that makes me look like a goofy kid.

Can you guess a stranger’s age? I’m woefully inaccurate, unless I perceive the stranger to be objectionably dressed or groomed, in which case my ability spikes eerily. Odd.

Are you a sweet widdle baby on Jupiter?

The graphic representing the sudden and astonishing popularity of my first name (which, N.B., is not Elsa) will crush you all!* See how popular your name has been over the decades, at The Baby Name Wizard.

*When I was 17 and working in retail, I was routinely assaulted by chastizing maternal voices scolding me. “[Elsa], put that down!” Each time, I would spin around, startled by the vehemence of her order, only to find it was yet another mother speaking (of course) to her five-year-old daughter.

A couple of years ago in a college classroom, I was musing over the popularity of the same name for the 18-year-olds sitting around me; it was not uncommon to have three or four of us in a 50-person class. Then I was truck by a jolting realization: these 18-year-olds were the same generation as the five-year-olds. I’m the one who’s fifteen years late.

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4 thoughts on “For the ages

  1. I’m so happy to see we’re posting again, I’ve wondered where we were and if we were okay! Oh wait, it’s just you who’s writing. It’s so nice to be commenting again!

  2. Hey! your grim reaper thingie says I’m only 31! Woohoo! Yes, like you, I guess it’s the hopping. And climbing the occasional tree. Plus thinking about sex all the time.

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