Month: July 2019

So Much Sense

Image result for funny tortoise pictures

I learned a new word this morning. I get a daily email from word genius and like an annoying, smug, little know-it-all kid in your honors English class, often I look at the “word of the day”, that comes on this email and I say to myself, “Oh, phhhh, I already know that word.” Well, lah-ti-f-ing-dah! (that one is not actually a real word. It’s not likely to be featured on word genius any time in the near future.)

Today’s word is a lovely word. I absolutely plan to add it to my vernacular. Today’s word is Senescence, pronounced Sa-ness-scents. It means “the aging process.” Now if you are thinking, “Oh, phhhh, I already know that word,” to you I say, “Well, Lah-ti-f-ing-dah!” I personally don’t recall ever hearing the word, senescence, and I think it sounds a hell of a lot better than the totally annoying, abrasive, constantly overused word “aging”, that seems to be coming at me at all angles, these days. Doesn’t Senescence Home sound like somewhere you’d actually want to got to, versus “Old Age Home”? Even “Anti-Senescence Cream” makes me want to put the cream back on the shelf, saying to myself, “Maybe I actually want some senescence. It sounds mysterious, sensual and sophisticated.”

Us second half adulters have earned our senescence, which to me, seems to really mean “the essence of sense.” We have so much sense now that we have matured, that we have lengthened the word “sense”, to “senescence”. I’m proud of my hard-earned senescence.

word genius likes to give you fun little facts about the “word of the day”. Today we read that tortoises have what is called negligible senescence, meaning that with proper care and exercise, tortoises can live indefinitely. I think that I might come out with a whole new skin care line. (because we don’t have enough of these products, right Ulta? Ha!) I will call it “Tortoiseshell Luxury Shield Cream – for elegant people who only want to experience negligible senescence.” Anyone offering seed money for this promising enterprise?!?

You’re OK

I’m getting “back to normal” (whatever that means) today, after a busy day of appointments and being out of the house, all day yesterday. For reasons that I cannot fully explain to myself or to others, I have been in a particularly “feeling good”, centered, calm, “go with the flow” kind of a mood, the last few days. (Take that, middle aged hormone fluctuations!!! You can’t keep me down!!!)

I read one of my online meditations today. (Think Smarter – I just can’t get enough of these tweets). I really liked the last line of it. I think this is something that we all need to hear, to know, to absorb, to feel, every single day of our lives. Here goes (you are going to want to enlarge it, print it and keep it somewhere cemented in your mind):

No need to worry just live and let be.

You’re OK and everything will be OK.

Hanging or Holding

I am sure that I have written about this before, but it is so striking to me that the first half of adulting seems to be so much about building things up, attaining, creating and while there is still some of that momentum going on in the second half of adulting, a new, greater emphasis seems to be on the “letting go.”

One of my meditations this morning talked about the difference between perseverance (hanging in there) and just holding on. When we are just desperately “holding on”, sometimes we are not letting go of a situation or a person or a lifestyle or a job title, etc., that has long passed its expiration date. That’s not perseverance. This type of holding on can turn to desperation, and an inability to move on with our lives.

Anne Wilson Schaef writes this:

“Perseverance is continuing to work at something for as long as there is value in working at it. Perseverance is being appropriately related to ourselves, the situation, and others involved. It is the commitment to seeing something through to completion and the ability to recognize when the completion has been reached.”

I think a lot of us are really good at the stubborn, “dog-on-a-bone”, toughly hanging on, aspect of perseverance, but the understanding when the time has come to let go, is actually the much harder part for many of us. We have been taught not to be quitters, and to always have hope. But I think sometimes we are confused between the real conclusion to something, versus the happy ending that we are deeply attached to, in our minds. Or, sometimes, coming to an ending of something is difficult for us because it is just our individual time of conclusion, in a particular happening – kind of like the passing of a baton, in a long race. It is hard to comprehend that when we are a part of something, that we won’t necessarily always be the ones to see it through to the end, if there really even is a true ending. We have a hard time seeing ourselves as just one part of a long story or journey or adventure. We fear missing out.

It’s interesting to me that when we are blessed enough to reach the second half of our adulting, a time when we have hopefully gained a lot of experience, and the wisdom that comes from all that experience, life shows us that sometimes the hardest lessons often aren’t about the determination to attain something. The dedication to achieve a worthy experience of living, and the moxie, and the stamina, and the steadfastness it takes to even make it to our second halves, while all very important, has all been building to what is sometimes the biggest challenge of all. The hardest lesson, that which we have prepared for, with all of this spunk and all of this persistence, is really the ability to know when a particular lesson, experience, and/or adventure in life, has been exhausted of all that it was meant to teach us. It has been wrung out and we have to take the exit sign, on to our next, new journey. The upside of this, is that we can transfer our hard-earned perseverance to our new focuses in life. When we allow ourselves to surrender to the conclusion of an old adventure, we realize that the immense relief that we feel, frees up new, vital energy that we can put towards new, exciting adventures, making us feel more alive than ever. And, at this second half stage of the game, we now have the wisdom and confidence of knowing that we have the perseverance to see the new experience through to its end, and we also have the knowing that we have the strength to let “it” go, once that ending has arrived for us.

Love In Motion

My two eldest sons are spending the weekend in NYC together. There is nothing that warms a mother’s heart more than her children choosing to spend time together that has not been forced upon them or scheduled for them. Seeing my sons’ adult relationship bloom and flourish makes me smile as I write this. I hope that their relationship continues to satisfy them both so much, that they continue to choose to share spontaneous adventures throughout their lifetimes. Because who else better can look into the excited, awe-inspired gaze of an adult on an adventure, and purely see a glimpse of the once known, thrilled, beaming child that lives on underneath the adult exterior?

Brave New World

Once upon a time . . . in middle America, a middle-aged woman got the understanding as to why nostalgia is such an acute emotion, at this stage of her life. She watched Once Upon a Time . . . In Hollywood with her husband, and they both completely recognized the 1960s/1970s hair styles, the cars, the clothes, the mannerisms, the music and the complete lack of technology – things that were depicted in great and careful detail, in the movie. The woman and her husband came to the understanding that they had reached a stage of life where they had once lived in a world, that looks almost nothing like the world that they live in today. They had reached the age where they could now see that they were no longer in the long stage of growing up and evolving from one time period to another, but that so much evolution had happened, that it was pretty clear that they had lived in two completely different worlds, just in their lifetimes. “How many utterly unique worlds do you experience in an average lifetime?” she wondered. “And why does it sometimes seem so much more acutely obvious, at some times versus other times, that so much change has occurred?” She understood that change is the only constant. She often spouted that tome to anyone who gave her soapbox attention. “But why don’t we see it happening on a regular basis?” she asked herself. “Why does it seem that we have woken up from one dream world to an instant other world with only a hazy idea of how the transformation happened? And only a foggy inkling of how much change has occurred inside of us, to match the now entirely different outsides of us?” It was a lot to think about on a Saturday morning. It was kind of exhausting pondering this deep realization, and there were chores to be done and kids to be picked up and meals to be made. She would have to put this line of thinking to rest, so that she could just live. She would just “do the experience” of another evolution and perhaps she would reach another stage in life where she would become breathless with wonder, realizing that she had yet again, entered a whole new world.

The Face of Friday

Then I would love it even more ❤️❤️❤️

I couldn’t resist this one, guys! I am going to see Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood tonight and I am looking forward to some great acting! New readers, there is nothing but surface stuff here on Fridays, at Adulting- Second Half. On Fridays, I pick three of my favorite items, foods, songs, books, etc. and I encourage you to share your favorites in my comments section. Please see previous Friday postings for over a year’s worth of my favorites!

Today’s favorites:

The Original Make Up Eraser – This is a miracle cloth. I have sensitive eyes, so most make-up removers tend to burn my eyes or make them swell. This item is just a cloth that you dampen slightly and it removes your eye make-up in an easy couple of swoops. I am shocked that it works as well and as easily as it does. It is sort of like a slightly shaggy washcloth, that can be thrown in the clothes washer to clean it. Love it!

SouthEndGirlArt (etsy) – I bought a small woodblock piece of artwork from this artist’s adorable collection and I adore it. The artist, Tiffanie Seiler suggests that their small size is perfect for closets or other small spaces. I actually keep mine in my car, so that every time that I get into the car, a beautiful, whimsical, spiritual looking woman smiles at me with the word NAMASTE resting beneath her ethereal presence. The artist has actually licensed her whimsical mermaids and little girls and cute animal images and they have been featured at Trader Joe’s and even on a wine label. Pick out your own one-of-a-kind piece at her etsy store!

Jardinière – I took Latin, so I just learned this word last week. It is the French word for gardener, in its feminine form. I bought a wonderful, old, interesting vintage flower pot adorned with two dragon handles from a cool retro store in the artsy end of town, last week. The tag had this word on it and I thought that it referred to the actual artist or maker, but I was wrong. Jardiniere refers to any fancy variety of pottery used to house plants. There are a lot of collectors of Jardiniere in the world, and I just discovered that I am one of them and that I have been one of them for quite some time. There is nothing more delightful than a beautiful flowering plant, housed in a unique, eye-catching pot – the house that the plant deserves and where it will be happy to flourish and bloom. Don’t just settle for generic terra cotta pots – you and your plants deserve more! Jardiniere it, baby!

Heart Ocean Happy Friday days friday friday quotes friday images best friday quotes

Nine Inch Turnaround

I was reading the reviews of Quentin Tarantino’s latest movie, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, which features the time in Hollywood leading up to the infamous Manson murders. Of course, the internet being what it is, so chock full of information- pertinent and not, that I ended up spending a fair amount of time this morning researching some of even the minor details surrounding Sharon Tate and the horrible, terrifying, mortifying events that stunned America for so long. These Manson murders are so evil, that I have known and heard about the Manson murders for my entire lifetime (they occurred a few months before I was born).

Sharon Tate’s sister has been an advocate for victims’ rights and has been dedicated to keeping her sister’s murderers in jail, for the rest of their lives. She also brought a very important “aha” moment to Trent Reznor, lead singer of the band Nine Inch Nails, who had rented the home where the murders took place in 1992, nicknamed it “Pig” and shot a video there. (For the record, the home was finally demolished in 1994.) This is what he had to say:

My awakening about all that stuff came from meeting Sharon Tate’s sister. While I was working on Downward Spiral, I was living in the house where Sharon Tate was killed. Then one day I met her sister. It was a random thing, just a brief encounter. And she said: “Are you exploiting my sister’s death by living in her house?” For the first time the whole thing kind of slapped me in the face. I said, “No, it’s just sort of my own interest in American folklore. I’m in this place where a weird part of history occurred.” I guess it never really struck me before, but it did then. She lost her sister from a senseless, ignorant situation that I don’t want to support. When she was talking to me, I realized for the first time, “What if it was my sister?” I thought, “Fuck Charlie Manson.” I don’t want to be looked at as a guy who supports serial-killer bullshit.

I went home and cried that night. It made me see there’s another side to things, you know? It’s one thing to go around with your dick swinging in the wind, acting like it doesn’t matter. But when you understand the repercussions that are felt … that’s what sobered me up: realizing that what balances out the appeal of the lawlessness and the lack of morality and that whole thing is the other end of it, the victims who don’t deserve that.

With all of the information thrown at us these days, it is so easy to get desensitized to it all. Even if we all aren’t perpetrating any evil ourselves, it’s so easy to rationalize looking the other way. Life is complicated. It is hard to figure out what hills to die on. Still, I suppose looking at everyone we come across with a little more empathy, trying to really do the mental walk of “a mile in their shoes”, might be an excellent way to start towards the journey of more benevolence, understanding and humaneness.

Relics of a By-Gone Time

I’m so sorry that I haven’t been posting early, the last couple of days. I would like to pretend that it is because I am so enthralled with the seminars my son’s university has put together for us parents during the freshman orientation, but that would be a lie. Since my son is attending the same university that his older brothers have attended, I could honestly run some of the parent seminars myself. I have the slogans and fight songs memorized and I don’t need another campus tour. So, instead of attending the refresher courses this morning, my husband and I escaped to a quaint little historical nearby town, about 20 minutes away from campus. This town is known for its history and its antiquities, not for its WiFi connections. I cannot pretend that I found that fact to be entirely disappointing. This was one of those towns that really did feel like a movie set, a movie set dedicated to a different era – a time period when everything was slower paced, so slow-paced that it was like the town had decided to stand still and stay a while, swinging on the porch, as everything and everyone surrounding it, sped into the future at high-tech, warp speeds.

I wandered into one intriguing shop and got to talking with the owner, a lovely, dignified woman, who told me that she had owned and run the shop for 39 years. Her shop was “a feast for the eyes” and even though it was crammed full of things, she had so thoughtfully and so tastefully displayed everything, that it felt like you were walking through a perfectly restored story book. You started out in a lovely, aromatic garden section, walked through a festive Christmas village, wound around into an old-timey Americana rustic display of antiques and relics that still retained their original charm and now commanded prices ten times more than their original costs, and finally ended up in a corner of delightful Halloween decorations. This holiday corner almost managed to put the Christmas town to shame. The Halloween section was unbelievable, not at all kitschy, even with its bright, glittering orange trinkets covering the walls and the ceiling, from every imaginable angle.

“You really have an eye,” I told the owner. “I wish that I could make Halloween look like this, in my home . . . if it did, I would probably keep the decorations up, all year long, it’s that pretty!”

“Oh, it’s easy. You just need a lot of cute stuff,” she said modestly.

“No, usually a lot of stuff looks like a garbled, cluttered mess, but you make it look like a sensible, beautiful pattern,” I insisted.

She sighed. “You are right. I couldn’t teach any young ladies to do this anymore. They aren’t interested. These types of stores are soon to be relics of the past.”

I wanted to assure her that she was wrong, even as I sheepishly thought about how much of my own shopping habits have changed over the years. I probably shop for at least 80 percent of my purchases online and have them conveniently delivered right to my front door. The shop owner and I talked some more and I opened up to her about playing hooky from parent orientation. I admitted to this perfectly lovely stranger that I was growing out of the occupation (motherhood) that had been my major purpose in life, for over 23 years, and that I was struggling to find my next thing.

“That’s a hard stage. It’s hard when things come to a close,” the shop owner sighed again. We looked at each other knowingly, kindly, comfortingly. And then I purchased a beautiful Christmas ornament, fashioned from antique porcelain which was dressed up with a bow that the owner admitted that she had added to it, because her discerning eye knew that it was the bow that was the needed, magical touch. She wrapped my ornament carefully in beautiful colored tissue paper, and placed it gently in a brightly colored bag. And then, as I reluctantly left the unique and charming store, a store that reflected the love and creativity of the owner who nourished it, she smiled at me as she followed behind me. Then, she hesitantly turned the sign, the attractive sign hanging on the front door of the store, the sign adorned with a delicate, carefully considered ribbon of rope, to . . . Closed.

Loosening of A Strand

I’m at my third child’s freshman orientation for college. So obviously, this is not my first rodeo. In fact, he is attending the same large, wonderful university that his two elder brothers attended, so this is really not my first rodeo. In some ways, I feel comforted. I know what to expect in many regards. I know that while our relationship will definitely change, he won’t disappear on me. In some ways, our relationship will mature and ripen in wonderful ways, with a mutual adult respect and a curiosity to get to know each other on a more personal, level playing field. We’ll discover things about each other, that for years was kept under the wraps of more parental guidance and authority, than he will need now.

Still, every child is unique. Anyone who believes that a child is a “blank slate” doesn’t have multiple children or is too blind to see the swirling, beautiful, utterly unique energy and soul, that is encapsulated in the body of each and every child. That soul just needs to be nurtured, loved and coached out – certainly not painted over with forced, blind, uniform expectations. And because every child is unique, every relationship that you have with each of your children, is unique and special and sacred.

I have raised four children. I carry four strands. And today marks the day that I have to let go of my tight grip on one of my unique, beautiful strands. I have to loosen the string and let it wind out to new directions, directions that will no longer be in my control. I have enough experience in this territory now, to not fear the loosening so much. In fact, I’m excited to follow the strand from time to time, to see where it is going, now, almost entirely in the care of my wonderful, capable son’s direction.

Time for a Lettuce Cleanse

This past weekend I got a reminder of how much I love certain gastro-perfections that I had retired due to over-gorging in the past. On our Saturday night date night, my husband and I stopped at a frozen yogurt spot for dessert. I covered my dollop of yogurt with the equivalence of probably about three Reese’s peanut butter cups and a bag of almonds. The overall concoction was divine. We hadn’t been out for fro-yo all summer and I had forgotten what I was missing. I’m sure I’ll be headed back there . . . . later this afternoon.

Yesterday, we drove my daughter to a summer tennis camp several hours away, and she brought along microwave popcorn. I think I retired microwave popcorn after spending hours scouring my microwave and burning a hole in my stomach with Aleve, afterwards. I was trying to get rid of the soreness in my muscles that happened as I tried to remove the burnt popcorn smell from the permanent built-in fixture that our microwave is, in our kitchen. However, all it took was just one handful of the perfectly salted fluffy delight, for me to realize that microwave popcorn is going right back on to our snack menu. Immediately. Stat.

At lunch yesterday, I ordered boom-boom sweet chili shrimp. I used to get that concoction about bi-weekly from a local restaurant, for lunch. I ate so much of it, that eventually just a waft of its smell, would make me physically sick. I haven’t had boom-boom shrimp in years. After yesterday’s lunch, I think I will be getting back to my bi-weekly schedule. I had forgotten what a food-gasm, boom-boom shrimp is for me.

Am I the only one who gorges on food that I love until I hate it? I probably have eaten enough Chicken Parmesan for three lifetimes and I rarely give it a time-out. But every once in a while, I do put it on a menu choice hiatus. I believe in the statement “all things in moderation”, but in practice, with foods that I love, moderation gets thrown out the window, until gluttony sets in, and I take a lettuce cleanse. I eat so much of something that I love, that I swear I’ll never eat it again, but then I have a weekend, like this past weekend, full of delicious reminders and the cycle starts all over again.

“There is no sincerer love than the love of food.” -George Bernard Shaw

“The secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.” -Mark Twain

“My weaknesses have always been food and men — in that order.” – Dolly Parton


“The only time to eat diet food is while you’re waiting for the steak to cook.” -Julia Child