Tic, Tic, Tic

Loving all the seasons of life, and doing OK.

 

This year my birthday was one of those that was divisible by 10.  I am not going to say,  "Where did the time go", because in contemplation,  I know where it went.

 I didn't notice it going by so fast when I was raising four loving children, nor did I notice it as I accumulated lifelong friends.  I didn't notice it when working in my gardens because every summer I would plan what to do the next year.  I didn't see it when my children reached all the milestones in their lives because I was always so proud.  I didn't notice it when I went on vacations and had wonderful adventures and made memories.  I didn't notice many things, because I was living life.

However, I did notice it when I held my first grandchild in my arms and knew that part of me will continue on for generations.  Time tapped on my shoulder again when I retired and I missed people who I had come to see everyday and loved being part of their lives.  I also missed purpose, but then I reinvented myself and found joy. 

I am more mellow now, life is not as busy, but still interesting.  I can walk six miles without breaking a sweat (on cool days), put in large gardens that fill my soul, and hold my grandchildren close. I always look forward and attempt to ignore the negativity that surrounds me.  I try never to say no, although fear now creeps in.

I embrace my age as I have lived longer than many, but gosh darn it, I wasn't done being young.

Stalkers in the Midst

We had a beautiful snowfall this week and I am doing OK.



A few days ago, hubby came running into the bedroom yelling, "Arleen, Arleen, look outside."  Not fully awake but startled by what he said, I stretched over and peered out the window.  There, sitting on a backyard tree were two large turkey vultures and they seemed to be looking into my window. I checked my pulse, and yep, I still had one.  I jumped out of bed, did a little dance and yelled for them to go away.  Heck, there is still plenty of life in this old girl yet.

This was not quite the happy New Year greeting I wanted.  I was hoping for the Bluebird of Happiness.

I Am Still Here

Beautiful days, crisp nights and I am doing OK.

It was the summer of my 21st year and I was living life in the spirit of what that age gives to you.  One evening I was in the latest and coolest of the local clubs, dancing to the sounds of The Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan.  The room was crowded with 20 something aged party-goers but off to the side I spied a group of older patrons  and wondered what they were doing there. I thought they were taking up the space that belonged to us, the young, the vital, the hip. 

Time marched on...

I  am not the sort to spend my time looking back.  Life, for the most part has been good to me, although like everybody, there have been pitfalls and sadness.   I miss those that have gone before me and do think of them often, but try to dwell on only the good times shared by us.

I often hear contemporaries use the expression of "In my time.", meaning their youth.  I look at my time as now, because heck, I am still here.  It is the whole journey, not just a portion.  Each decade brings with it new adventures, new acquaintences, and new things to learn and experience, no matter if it is good or bad.   I may not be as limber as I used to be, but I am still vertical.  I can still think, although constant changing technology can befuddle me, but most of the time I can put a few words together and make sense.  My time is yesterday, today and I hope, many more tomorrows and I have tried to use it as best I can.  Because I have reached an age of invisibility does not mean I have no purpose.  Of course, that purpose is defined by me and how rewarding and meaningful I make it.  I am always a work in progress.

My friends and I are still vital and hip, even if some have hips that are made of titanium and yes,  I am still dancing. 

 

Having One of "Those" Days

It must be Monday and I think I am doing OK, or maybe not.









I have seen/heard this joke many times, but it always makes me laugh.  Maybe because it has become my life now.

Laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you weep alone.

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

Wow, May flew by like the wind, but I am doing OK.

Because I have lost weight this year, I have had to purchase some new clothes.  I no longer really enjoy shopping like I once did, as running around stores to buy things to add to my collection of "stuff", is no longer a priority.  I already have too much "stuff" which I am trying to give away, and adding to it defeats my purpose.  However, right now my pants hang on me like a hip-hop teenage boy, and believe me, it is not a pretty sight.  I have to bend down quite a bit doing my gardening and the moon shot that I give off could send small children screaming to their mother's side.

So now I am down to a size with a single digit, a feat I thought I would never experience again.  This does make me feel quite good, however, the parts that used to fit into this size, are no longer in the same places.  Because of this, "separates" are the name of the game and structured underwear is a necessity. 

Now I am feeling very fashionable in my straight leg pants (not to be confused with skinny).  At first I got some cool boots with heels to wear with this very popular style, only to realize this was a form of suicide for women of a certain age.  I have settled on wedge heels which, so far, have kept me vertical.

As my friends can tell you though, my foray into new hip clothes has not been without incident.  It seems that manufacturers like to put cellophane labels on their apparel.  Aren't the two or three tags that they attach enough?  These labels usually go up the side of the leg of jeans and on left side of the chest  on tops.  I don't always notice them as they are clear except for the size printed on them.  I have now been told by complete strangers that I have forgotten to remove these.  Last week I was out having dinner with friends and I saw someone take a quick glance at the shirt I was wearing, and I knew right away, something was amiss.  No one stares at a mature woman's anatomy, unless of course, they are sickos.   I looked down and there it was, a large M circling my now lifted mams (with the help of my erector set like new undergarments).  It could have been worse, it could have said XXXL.

I can't say this is all new to me.  Back in my perkier days, I used to do my shopping during my lunch hour. Once I went into a store looking for a sweater for my son and bent over a display where they had their merchandise stacked on pyramid-like shelving.  Not finding anything, I left the store and then walked around the mall for another half hour.  Upon returning to work, I walked into my boss' office to give him some paperwork and noticed a  look on his face.  "Arleen", he said, "you have something on your dress", and he made this hand gesture across his chest.  I looked down and sticking to my clothes was a sign saying "50% off".  It must have become attached to me as I leaned over the array of sweaters.

For half an hour I walked around a crowded shopping center with this advertisement.  After thinking it over though, I was not sure to be embarrassed or insulted.  Gee, 50% off and no takers.

Brain Farts, It's Mind Boggling

Moving out of the fog and doing OK

As we age, we become more sensitive to and frightened of "losing it".  I read recently that people fear getting dementia more than they do cancer.  This is understandable, since many cancers are treatable, but a disease of the brain is a dark journey where no one wants to go.

I have always had the theory that the minute you have children, the degeneration begins.    Actually, I think they start sucking out your brain cells while in utero.  By the time they leave home, you are no longer the person you once were, and much of the grey matter has been depleted during the intervening years.  My life in the past few years has been all about:

Where are my keys?

Gosh, I just had my glasses.......

"How come I can't work the TV any longer?

What am I looking for?

What is that word I want to say?

What was I talking about?

and it is all driving me crazy.
(so to speak)

However, according to LiveScience.com, many of the things that you worry about are just natural occurrences and not to be worried about.   For example:

-    How often have you walked into a room only to forget why you are there?  It is not Alzheimer's catching up with you, it is the door itself.  Psychologists have discovered that passing trough a doorway triggers what is known as and "event boundary" in the mind, separating one set of thoughts and memories from the next.  Your brain files away the thoughts you had in the previous room and prepares a blank slate for the new locale.  The answer might be to move into a one room house, with no closets.

-  Talking to yourself might not mean you are crazy.  Studies have shown that it can actually benefit thinking and perception.  Besides, we will never find a more interested listener.  
 - Zoning Out.  No matter how hard we might try to stay focused on an everyday task, such as brushing our teeth or queuing for coffee, we simply can't stop our minds from wandering. Fortunately, those bizarre bouts of cognition sans awareness known as "zoning out" are actually a good thing. They’re vital to creativity and imaginative thought.

Instead of staying completely focused on a dull and familiar external stimulus, neuroscience research shows that our attention waxes and wanes, and we spend 13 percent of the time "zoned out." During this time, we are free to float along internal streams of consciousness, following wherever our minds randomly take us — perhaps arriving at a "eureka!" moment, or at the very least, a spontaneous and interesting ideathing and perception.  Works for me!

As I have been questioning my capabilities lately, this was very good news indeed. It turns out I really am  OK, at least until I go through a doorway.