admin, Author at Adulting: Second- Half

Impossible

Lately I have been letting myself get sucked into the soup of negativity. My moods can turn into a downward spiral and I found myself swirling closer to the drain than I like to be. It is so much nicer to float on the surface. The murky depths were getting to me. So, for me, my best medicine to get my lower self out of my head, is to drive my convertible with the top down, sing at the top of my lungs, and just see where the drive takes me. Yesterday, my ultimate destination was to pick up dinner at The Fresh Market. I adore that grocery store. It makes me feel grown up and sophisticated to shop there. Everything is slower paced inside of the store. The lights are dimmed (almost like candlelight), symphony music plays subtly in the background, fresh cut flowers abound, no one walks fast or talks loudly on their phones while perusing the edible delights that are just about everywhere you look, and even the check out people are uninterruptedly deliberate, unflappable and even-paced. If you have a hard time meditating, just shop in the The Fresh Market. It’s a walking meditation.

Now getting back to my story – before I reached The Fresh Market, I was driving around, happily and aimlessly, and I realized that I was in close proximity to another delightful, unique French boutique that is in my vast collection of happy places. I don’t get there very often because it is a good half hour away from my home and is sort of a hidden gem, with no other stores near to it. I saw on my phone that it was open until four p.m., so with excitement fluttering in my chest, I steered my mechanical baby (my car) towards the boutique. I hadn’t been there since before the coronavirus mess, so I eagerly awaited our energetic embrace. I could feel my moodiness lifting, as I was driving, singing, and looking up to the bright blue sky, as I made my way to my savored destination.

As I turned the corner towards the store, I noticed that the boutique didn’t have their usual array of impossibly pretty planters (or jardinière, as the French say) out by the windows on the sidewalk. As I drove up to the strangely empty parking lot, my heart sunk down to the drain hole again, when I saw an enormous, indifferent “for sale” sign, on the empty, soulless, bare building that once housed a bustling spirit which took you away to France, without ever having to board a plane. I started cursing the fates. Why wasn’t I being supported in my attempts to uplift my energy?! (I have an unhealthy habit of personalizing everything.) Still, even at my depths, I am a ruggedly stubborn optimist. Google said that the boutique was “open.” Google had green open hours connected with my beloved boutique. Google is Big Brother. Google knows everything. Could my boutique have changed locations? I went to the Wizard of Google and I did actually find an alternate address. This address was just five minutes away.

You can guess the rest of the story. My darling little French boutique still exists! It has weathered coronavirus, and while smaller and cozier, its spirit still remains strong and elegant, as the shop owner hands out complimentary tea in beautiful porcelain tea cups, as you peruse her lovely, charming shop. As you know by now, I am always looking for the life lesson in everything. This experience reminded me to not lose hope. All is not lost. Gardens come back after winter, and all robust gardens started out as just tiny little seeds. When there is a will, there is a way. I purchased a CD of various French songs typically played in Parisian cafes (yes, even my husband was shocked to know that my car has a CD player) and I sang out loud, to words which I do not understand (but my heart seemed to know that they were wonderful words) and I headed to my next living meditation, in order to buy my family’s dinner makings.

Vouloir, c’est pouvoir. (When there is a will, there is a way.)

Impossible n’est pas français. (Impossible isn’t French.)

“Dog” Training

Our two male dogs have a love/hate relationship. Similar to my sons, when they were little boys, “rough play” can change on a dime to “fight club”. Years ago, I remember noticing that when my sons were playing flag football in our side yard with their friends, more time was actually spent playing “tackle football” over the interpretation of “the rules”, than any real game time. Still, even after a nasty, loud, teeth gnashing scuffle, our fur boys are always back to being friends in a matter of minutes, much like my sons and their friends were, on the sports fields.

In talking to a dog trainer/animal behaviorist about how to quell this situation with Ralphie and Trip (our male dogs), the trainer stated that with dogs living together it comes down to two things: the energy of the people of the house, and being proactive versus reactive. When the people carry a calm, decisive, in control energy about themselves, the dogs better understand the expectations of their behavior and are more likely to comply. And by noticing one of the dogs giving the other a hard stare and ending it right away, or putting a stop to frenzied play that could soon turn aggressive, this proactive behavior is much more effective, that completely losing it, by trying to stop a dog brawl in action. These two action plans have worked very well, and our household is happier for it, both the human and the canine members.

It struck me that these two rules apply not only to dog training, but to life in, general. The energy which we carry around is sensed by everyone and everything around us. I recently read that you can give yourself more confident energy if you strike the Wonder Woman pose before you do anything hard. I’ve tried it and it works. Confident energy is sensed by everyone and is responded to accordingly. (Either that or people give wide berth these days, to a strange woman in a Wonder Woman stance 😉 ) Being proactive in any situation, saves a lot of energy, resources and heartache, versus constantly putting out fires, by being reactive.

I have a sneaking suspicion that most dog training has very little to do with the dogs, and much more about training humans. The trainers just have to keep us confident by reminding us that these simple life hacks, which work to keep a happy pack at home, can also get us far in any situation in life. The trainers have to call it “dog training” in order to protect our fragile egos. Dogs aren’t “smart” enough to have overblown egos. Of course, the best reminder from my recent call with the trainer was that snacks and positive reinforcements do wonders. On that note, I think that it is time to fix myself a morning snack.

Fair Warning

Never pick a fight with a woman older than 40. They are full of rage & sick of everyones shit.

One of my friends texted this meme to our group chat yesterday, and we all heartily related to it. I sent the meme to a different friend group chat and there, I also got a very enthusiastic response. The most relatable response from one dear friend (we are all in our late forties), was this . . . . “Hell, yeah!” My friends are all lovely, fun, interesting women. I wouldn’t accuse any of us of being typical “Karens.” People like us. Or at the very least, we like each other.

However, realizing that I had hit a chord, I decided that this would be a good topic to blog about, so I started looking up articles about female rage in middle-aged women. Unfortunately, though, everything that I perused on the internet, just made me feel more annoyed and irritable than ever. Supposedly, hormones are often to blame for our collective seething anger, and many articles gave suggestions to take hormone therapy (while risking breast cancer) or to take anti-depressants, but with the warning that these medications often have the side effects of more weight gain and decreased sex drive, which are some of the biggest complaints that middle-aged women have about aging, in the first place.

I personally think that there’s a whole lot more to the story of middle-aged female rage, but finding the solutions lost my interest. . . . quickly. Anger can be a very fun and energizing and empowering emotion, when channeled appropriately. In the meantime, others (of different ages, sexes and categories) should take the above warning very seriously. We women of a certain age tend to be highly combustible, and none of us seem to find it particularly necessary nor prudent, to justify why we are this way. Nor are we particularly interested in finding a solution to it and changing it, any time soon.

“Your anger is a gift you give to yourself and the world that is yours. In anger, I have lived more fully, freely, intensely, sensitively, and politically. If ever there was a time not to silence yourself, to channel your anger into healthy places and choices, this is it.”
― Soraya Chemaly author of Rage Becomes Her

Wicked

Hilda: Well, here we go again. Another year of sitting out here, baking in the Florida sun, turning into pumpkin pies, as a lame attempt for some Halloween cheer.

Zelda: Oh come on Hilda, let’s have some fun with this. Did you see that new guy, the huge skeleton across the street? That guy has got it going on, girl.

Hilda: Yeah, he’s a little skinny for my tastes. And his eyes make me think that he might be on something. Just saying.

Zelda: Oh Hilda! Don’t always assume the worst in Halloween decorations. It’s all in fun.

Hilda: Halloween’s passé this year. Masks have become common and outworn.

Zelda: I have a joke, Hildy, to cheer you up. Ready, ready?? What’s the problem with twin witches???

Hilda:

Zelda: You never know witch is which!!!! One more!! One more!! What do you call two witches who live together???

Hilda: Just get it over with.

Zelda: Broom-mates!!!

Monday is Fun Day!! Have a good one, my beloveds!!

Soul Sunday

Good morning, my treasured readers. Regular readers know that I devote Sundays to poetry. I either write a poem or a share a poem written by someone else. Today’s poem has been written by me, this morning. I strongly encourage you to write a poem today (it’s cathartic) and if you would like, please share it in my Comments section. My blog is a safe and loving space, I assure you. Have a lovely Sunday.

The Turtle

Last night’s dream was so magical and intriguing.

It involved an ancient home which had been restored to greatness.

Most every room was purely white, marbled marble,

And you had to take a ride to view the house’s mysterious interiors,

Filled with towering towers and statuesque stairways,

But my favorite part of the ride is when I got to you,

the part which everyone seemed to know that I would love.

The whiteness stopped and there was a huge, golden, flowing pond.

And your enormous, moss covered shell rose to the surface.

It was breathtaking to see the largest turtle I have ever seen, anywhere.

I wasn’t afraid. I was in awe. You were incredible. You were shockingly amazing.

I don’t often remember my dreams, so this morning, it felt important

And necessary to understand your meaning to me,

The Dream Dictionary, told me this:

“Seeing a giant turtle, in your dream is a good sign, denoting that, you are protected by your friends and family and thus, no need to get worried about anything in life.”

“Thank you for the reminder, gorgeous turtle,” I whispered, with a sheepish smile.

“Thank yourself. Your dreams come from you.” you replied. “And so do I.”

And then, you plunged down to the deepest depths again,

Leaving the surface of my mind in a still and tranquil state,

As I began another day, assured and hopeful and loved and protected,

Knowing that my shell of loved ones, always keeps me safeguarded and secure.

Peace, Today

My writing ideas haven’t been flowing to me these past few days. Sometimes I get a surge of so many ideas that I have to run to my computer, or to at least to a scrap of paper, so that I can copy my inspirations down to keep up with my racing mind and my surging passion for what lays on my heart. But this week, I’ve been distractible and I’ve been trying to make sense of things that I am probably never going to completely understand during my lifetime on Earth. So this morning, in my perusing of different writers whose work I like to read, I came across this excellent thought by C. Joybell C. The way she describes her mothering is what I have always strived to do, as a mother, sometimes more successfully than at other times. Still, the way that she describes it, is so beautifully put, and it is probably incredibly comforting to her son:

“Kids go out into this world and try to escape everything they know, try to escape the strings they’re tied to, try to escape the pedestals they’re put on, try to escape the spoons shoved into their mouths: why? Why do their souls flee their nests? Because their nests are cages. My son is never trying to flee because his nest is me and I am the sky: a vast blue space that he can fly around in! His nest is me, his nest is the sky. Let me tell you, when the sky is your home, you never want to escape that.”

I reached out to C. Joybell C. once. We share a love of writing (and of perfume), so we had a really nice interaction. Writers love to hear from their readers (this I know). I’ve had some really nice correspondence with authors over the years. If a writer’s words really make a difference in your life, make the point of reaching out to them. I can almost guarantee you, that they will write back to you. Writers love to write, in all forms.

Peace, friends. Give yourself a long, cool glass of tranquility today. When the fear thoughts, or the worry vibes start to take over, stop yourself. Say, “Not today, self. Today, I give myself peace.”

Oversized Friday

50 Best 'Friday Quotes' to Kickstart A Happy Weekend — TGIF!

Hi friends! Welcome to Favorite Things Friday!! On Fridays, I keep it on the surface level here at Adulting – Second Half. On Friday, I typically list three favorite things, places, foods, songs, etc. and I strongly encourage you to add your favorites to our Comments section. Friends, I don’t have three things today. I am at a loss. Without getting out as much as I used to, I have a hard time coming up with three new favorites every week. This week I have one BIG favorite. I don’t plan on buying one (much to my daughter’s chagrin), but I am thrilled that Home Depot has added such a fun member to its Halloween collection, at a time when all of us could use more lightness and fun and happiness! Several people in our neck of the woods, already have these guys on display in their yards. Today’s favorite:

Friends, this is Home Depot’s 12 foot Giant-Sized Skeleton with Life Eyes. Isn’t he grand!! (literally and figuratively) Whatever it takes to have fun this year, do it!! Have a great, fun, silly, oversized weekend!!!

The Year of Acceptance

Happy October! I was not particularly fond of September 2020. Bye-bye September, don’t let the door hitcha on the way out! My theme for today is “acceptance.” (You: Oh great. Not this again. She needs to learn to accept “acceptance” and to move on.) I read a quote that made a lot of sense to me a little while ago, and I wrote it in one of my journals. I’m sorry, but I don’t know who to attribute it to:

“Knowing and understanding are not the same as accepting. Give yourself space to process.”

If ever there was a year that we have been forced to wrap our heads around things, 2020 would be it. Major changes and societal issues and health issues and economic issues, all on top of any of the usual personal life issues which any of us have to deal with in any particular random year, have made dealing with “acceptance”, practically an every day occurrence.

Like the above quote states, we can know things intellectually, without fully accepting these same things. We can understand, for instance, how wearing masks can help save lives. But have we fully accepted that wearing masks may become the norm for the unforeseeable future? Acceptance takes time. Acceptance is always the final stage in any grieving process. Acceptance is not equivalent to approval, but it is the knowing and the ability to sit with, “it is what it is.”

My daughter and I watched Good Will Hunting, the other night. We have seen the film several times, but it is one of those rare movies that is worth watching, again and again. The following scene is one of the most traumatic, poignant scenes in the film, that perfectly illustrates why knowing and understanding are not the same things as acceptance. Friends, the overwhelming events and negative circumstances of 2020 are not our fault. The strangeness and onslaught of changes that have come to our daily lives is not anyone’s fault. Hopefully, we will all be able to come to an acceptance of that fact, and just rise up and do our best, every single day, keeping our faces turned to the sun. Keep the faith!

We are The People

I’ve mentioned before that I am not a person who cares all that much about politics. There is already way too much political poo on the internet, in my opinion. So, I am taking a big risk here, by leaving my comfort zone of complete silence, concerning the political arena of today. This will probably be the last time that I will bring up anything in the way of American politics, so please don’t turn my Comments section into a grand stand or an argument zone. There are plenty of other forums for that, only a few clicks away.

Everyone who I know and who I care about (all reasonable and loving people), no matter where they stand on the political scale in America – red, blue or purple, is exhausted from all of the ridiculous discord and partisanship that has plagued our country for much too long. On a walk recently, my husband said to me, “What if the masses of us (a vast majority), all of the sudden declared ourselves “independent” voters, what would they do? Who could they pander to?” No one who I personally know, stands so rigidly for all of the dogma of either side. Most of us really are “independent” when it comes to various issues that affect our society and our individual families, if we are honest with ourselves.

Therefore, I have a fantasy grassroots idea/dream in which the masses of us, go to our voter registration card centers, and we change our voter registration status to “independent.” If you want to keep politicians “honest” (as honest as a politician can be), keep a little mystery in the game. Keep the politicians, and the extreme media antagonists, guessing what issues really are hot buttons for the majority of us, as a country and as individual family systems. Make them say where they really stand on issues, instead of appealing to the extremes of our current political parties. It seems like a really good way for us people to take back the power. And that’s what a democracy is, right? Democracy is meant to be a political system, made for the people, by the people. We are The People. No one in today’s political/media/lobby circus, represents the many, many people I have known and who I have loved, in my almost fifty years of being an American, so let’s bring it back to real. We Americans pride ourselves on being rugged individualists, not these cartoon versions of what the extreme sides of either party have become.

As I have said, I rarely dip my toes into politics, but for someone else who loves these grass roots kinds of movements, I put the idea out there. Let’s all change our voter registrations to “independent” and bring things back to balanced and centered. Let’s stop looking at other citizens as labelled cartoon versions of themselves, and let’s find a way to work together again, for the betterment of our beautiful, resourceful, inspiring country, for which so many brave, courageous people have lost their lives, in order to preserve America’s vision of hope and abundance. We are The People. Let’s remind them all of that fact.

Practice Makes Progression

My friend said that recently she woke up in the morning and looked at her bedding and decided that her comforter was getting worn and that she needed a new one. So, when she started looking at her phone, almost immediately all of these ads for comforters started popping up, no matter what she was looking at, on her browser. My friend is half-jokingly convinced that Google/Facebook/Twitter’s algorithms have gotten so good, that they are reading our minds.

Now, I personally think that Google/Facebook/Twitter are just copying, in rudimental fashion, the algorithm that the Universe/God has always had in place, since eternity. It never fails that if I need to hear a message, loud and clear, that message or that lesson pops up in my daily life all of the time, whether it be in books, on my computer, from talking with a friend or family member, or even just walking about in nature, when thoughts and ideas, seemingly “out of nowhere”, pop into my mind. The message that has been pinging lately in my heart, is to remember that we are always aiming for “progression, not perfection” in everything that we do.

Once someone asked me if I was a perfectionist and I scoffed. Ha! “Have you seen my clutter filled desk, or my stuffed closet?” I remember thinking. “Have you read any of my spelling-error-filled, confusing texts?” I am a rather impatient person who likes to get things done quickly, which doesn’t leave much time and consideration for perfection. However, when I thought more about the question, I thought that perhaps it is not so much what we do, that screams “perfectionist”, as it is, how we speak to ourselves about our actions. Do I beat myself up for my messy desk and closet and sloppy texts? Do I think I should live up to someone else’s standards that aren’t really mine? Do I stay away from trying new things for fear of “failing” at these endeavors? Do I judge myself so harshly that it steals a lot of the joy out of anything that I do? When something goes wrong, do I flog myself mercilessly about a mistake?

Salvador Dali quote: Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it.

The quote above is my daughter’s favorite. It is her algorithm to herself. She pastes and writes this quote everywhere – in her room, in her tennis bag, on her artwork and on her social media. I love that this particular Dali quote speaks to her, so strongly. It helps my daughter to feel fearless with everything that she tries and everything that she enjoys. This quote reminds my daughter to remember how far she has come in her studies, in her athletics, in her friendships, in her artwork and probably every facet of her life, instead of berating herself for not being perfect. When we aim for progress versus perfection, in all of our endeavors, this allows for mistakes. And as we all know, mistakes in life are as inevitable, as perfection is impossible.