Sunday, September 30, 2007

Brrrrrrr!

The first real rain has arrived in the Pacific NorthWet and brought
enough damp to mix with the fall chill that my extremities are
turning into frozen expressions of discomfort. I no longer wonder why
the dwellings of older folk are kept at slow bake. If I weren't so
darned stubborn (It is too blamed early to turn on the heat!) I'd
have it barely sub-sauna inside. Hibernation in a cozy burrow is
sounding nice.

Wake me around quarter to Spring, okay?

Friday, September 28, 2007

Some of the things that set me off:

Rap Music.
Boys with their pants belted in the middle of their butts.
Crop tops and lo-rize jeans - together.
The cost of health care.
Violence as entertainment.
Dogs barking at night.
Drivers on cell phones.
Hummers.
Gas prices.
Anybody driving a car that gets less than 30 mpg.
Bottled water.
Cosmetic surgery to "look younger".
New Age music.
People who talk about the Good Old Days (including me!)
Rudeness.
Kids in any group larger than one (exception: my grandchildren)
Spiders on the ceiling.
Spiders anywhere else.
Tailgaters.
Land yachts.
Wrestling.
Living without DSL.

(To be continued...)

Thursday, September 27, 2007

LMAO or GRRRR?

Getting older must be an abderian pursuit* unless one is to sink into
being an absolute curmudgeon. I seem to be undecided which route to
the ancients is best. I leap frantically from one to the other.
Tuesday at ten I'm hysterical with giggling over a recital of the
myriad aches and pains ("Where doesn't it hurt, Indy?") and at ten-oh-
five I'll be growling in my whiskers (damn menopause anyway!) over
the fad of reality TV.

Each extreme suits me, by the way. It's been a lifetime emotional
roller-coaster and probably won't change. Part of me wistfully holds
out the ideal of mellow aging like a fine wine, the rest is aware I'm
more likely to end up a smelly old cheese.


*look it up!

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Oof!

Sometimes the awareness of getting old comes like a punch in the
stomach. The air goes out of you and there is dizziness as your inner
self struggles to adjust to a new perception of "Oh God! I'm an old,
old fart", an Oof!

Yesterday I was listening to the local oldies radio station. I didn't
recognize a single song they were playing... Oldies from the '90s.

Oof!

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

How We Communicate

This isn't so much about getting older, though living a distance away
from friends and staying in communication is more an adult than a
child thing. It is about differences in people.

I am gifted with excellent friends. These are people who have been in
my life a long time, the longest, (Ohmigod! ) 45 years. We remain
friends through communication. Early on, as we went our separate
ways, it became obvious that to stay friends in the way we understood
friendship, we had to our share lives. That meant communication. For
me that equaled writing but for them it was the telephone.

Talking is not something I avoid. Anyone who has met me is well aware
that talking is an art I relish. Two pals once visited and we talked
non-stop for over 15 hours. You can be sure I did more than my 5 hour
share! But while talking in person is a delight, talking on the phone
is not. Something is lost over the wire. Is it physical presence? The
little signals on sees in eyes and posture? Probably not since
written messages suit me fine, and I'm happy with email which is
faster than hand-writing a letter (agonizing) and slower than texting
(unintelligible).

The universe gets its jollies from little jokes: like marrying an
early morning person to a late nighter, or partnering a vegetarian
with a junk food nut. Those mysterious gods had a field day showering
me with incredibly wonderful friends who read my email and then call
to chat for an hour or two. I want each of those women to know that
I'm thrilled to hear their voices but after the first half hour my
ears hurt and my bladder gets full. (Hey, maybe it is a senior thing
after all?) After an hour I 'm done. There can be a lot more to talk
about (remember the 15 hours?) but something inside me is ready to
quit. "Done now. Love you, but I gotta go." Often some excuse
arrives: a door being knocked on, or a meeting to attend. Or I break
down and confess the bladder problem. (Telephone chats while on the
toilet? Gimme a break!)

No! I don't want their calls to stop. They aren't going to email and
they know I'm allergic to telephoning out. We have the best
compromise available under the circumstances. The friendships endure
-- no, flourish. And we can sit in our respective homes with them
saying, "She never calls!" and me saying, "She never writes!"

Ooops! There's someone at the door. Gotta run!

Friday, September 7, 2007

"G" as in Gravity

Today's word is Gravity.

Gravity - as in the solemn way time plods along refusing to side step
for me and instead plants a boot over my drooping back and poises to
stomp me firmly into old age.

Gravity - as in seeing the gravity of the situation. Extreme or
alarming importance as in global warming, religious fervor, and
television violence. The gravity of a government lying to its people.
The gravity me of lying to myself.

Gravity - as in the force that attracts a body toward the center of
the earth. It acts upon my body every day as flesh sags, bags and
melts downward. It pulls on bones and tendons making my orbit of life
a bit closer to the ground, until eventually gravity will become
grave, and bury me in the earth.

Monday, September 3, 2007

It Isn't All Bad

Getting older hasn't all been bad. Aging has presented me with some
goodies and time to time they are the ones I notice. Perhaps they
should be mentioned.

Perspective.
Terrific thing. Lack of age = lack of experience = lack of
perspective. When life gets rough and emotions get off kilter age has
promised that "This too shall pass". It has before. It will again.

Wisdom.
Okay, this point is debatable, but even my severest critic (moi!) can
see some improvement from the past. Wisdom being an infinite line,
forward and back, a bit of progress has been made this lifetime.

Patience.
Again there is far more to be achieved, but while I cast one eye on
the lessening days remaining to me I find myself more willing and
able to wait. And far less apt to erupt over the little hassles.

Along with these goes a quality not easily named. It is the
willingness to admit I don't know everything, mixed with being okay
about that. Humility? Not exactly. Maybe more of a widened field of
vision? An awareness that truth isn't an absolute?