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Sometimes I think we’re just a bunch of old farts: We play scrabble. We also watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy religiously. And we’re proud members of the Wheel Watchers Spin Club (there’s nothing wrong with hoping to cash in on a bit of those cash & prizes). I cook healthy dinners (often in my crockpot – bonus!) and complain about the noisy whippersnapper above us who blares godforsaken metal music and stomps like a Clydesdale at 2 a.m. We’re hardly ever out and about past 11 p.m. and sleeping in means 9 a.m. The last time I entered a club with drinking, dancing, throbbing music, and glow sticks was definitely 2008. We go to the second run dollar theatre because we’re about the cheapest people on the planet and we’re constantly concerned about our health care, insurances, investments, and retirement funds. We consult our Entertainment coupon book often. We went on an old people cruise to Alaska, on an old people cruise line (Holland America) for our honeymoon and had a grand time! Every Sunday morning we attend 8 a.m. mass and go to Panera for breakfast, with the rest of the 80+ crowd. I’ve discovered a healthy appreciation for quality over quantity, old-timey classic Christmas things, vintage, and I no longer have glow in the dark stars, constellations, and galaxies plastered on my bedroom ceiling (99% because Ted won’t let me). We want to build and maintain a hobby model train exhibit that snakes around our living room. Ted likes pickled herring and I like dried fruit – that’s about as old-fartish as it gets, folks.

And sometimes I think how obnoxious we must be to others because we’re permanently five years old: The Wii was listed as a high priority on our wedding registry, and I still play Super Mario Brothers on my Nintendo DS. We had an entire camping gear related wedding registry too, as well as glow sticks at our reception. We cannot be let loose in Toys R’ Us, The Coolest Toy Store On Earth, or the toy aisles of Target without brazenly testing out every plaything in sight. We bring a bouncy ball to nice restaurants (accidental chaos sometimes ensues and we spend 14 minutes trying to figure out how to retrieve said bouncy ball from beneath the high heeled stiletto of the tramp eight tables over), and I request the kids activity book and crayons at restaurants I know have them. Ted could eat a rotation of mac n’ cheese, tacos, pizza, ribs, and honey bbq chicken wings every weeknight for eternity and never tire of it (please note the astonishing absence of leafy greens or veggies from this menu). I could eat ice cream hourly. We often skip, race, ballet leap, and/or piggy-back ride across parking lots. Ted makes up the most amazing, ridiculous, goofy songs and voices you’d ever hope to hear. Cosmic bowling, black light mini golf, laser tag, roller coaster amusement parks, bouncy castles, trampolines, carnival rides, swing sets, four wheelers, cotton candy/giant lollipops/funnel cakes/snowcones bring inexplicable joy. As do mondo piles of leaves, unattended water hoses, and large snowbanks to push one another into. We have a multi-colored rotating disco ball in our office. Ted can often be found awake at the crack of dawn plopped in front of the TV with a bowl of sugary, colorful Trix cereal watching Inspector Gadget and other cartoons, while I maintain my addiction to animated flicks, Scooby Doo, Halloween costumes, and small animals.

Bandwagons we have jumped onto: Becoming a Mac family (iPhones, iPods, iPads, MacBooks, Apple Airport Extremes, etc.), Angry Birds, Groupon/LivingSocial/CincySavers, Blogging, Instagram photos.

Bandwagons I will not be jumping on in 2012: Twitter (nobody needs to know that much of anyone’s business), Words with Friends (I prefer the real deal where nobody can cheat with a dumb scrabble dictionary), Pintrest (with what time and what money to get addicted to/obsessed with other people’s implied perfection?), and baby birthing (just no, so don’t ask).