The Queen is a Crone: Really?

Okay, I’m done for the day. I’ve learned my daily fact and honestly I am not happy about it. What I stored into knowledge today was the definition of the word, “crone,” which means any woman past forty. I protest; I am not a Crone!

I am not a withered old woman; I am not a biddy. Yes, menopause has come and clothing at a moments notice can be optional. Yes, my body has decided to take up Chinese and I no longer have any idea of what it is saying to me. Yes, I sometimes feel the need to try and make rhythm with my cracking joints and yes, I do find simple surprises around the house like I knew that is where I put those keys, but I am not a Crone.

It is very disheartening to awake one morning and learn you have entered into a stage of life that has such a nasty sounding title. To learn that your age  even has a title except for the yearly total it represents. What man came up with this one? I know, the husband of the woman who coined, “coot.” I’ll bet this whole thing started as the result of some long ago domestic dispute. “You old coot;” “You old crone.”

What brought this on was seeing a group of women who have decided they did not like the term “crone” and would rather be called Queen of their life. Hum, wonder if the Queen realizes she is a “crone?” Well, I never. I’ll bet if someone told her the definition of crone would be revised.

While I do not like the term “crone,” I’m not sure I like “queen of my life” any better. I’m not one for tiaras and such, I think I will just stick to my own definition of me; “Old enough to know better and still doing it.”

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