aging Archives - Page 5 of 6 - Adulting: Second- Half

Hello Washer, Is That You?

My husband and I have been in the market for a few appliances. We recently bought a water softener and we’re looking around for a new washer and dryer set. What we are finding is that there is quite a premium on appliances with features that we don’t want or need. It may be an age thing, but we don’t feel the need to communicate with our appliances, remotely from our phones. At all.

When the water softener salesperson came over, the final price came in freakishly high, somewhere around $6000. When we scoffed, he said, “Wait, wait, I may be able to bring the price down. Do you need the Wi-fi option?” Uh, no. All that I want my water softener to do, is to do its job of bringing Florida’s ridiculously hard water (We’re talking chunks of brick. Our regular water here feels like some of the beach is being hosed into the house. On a positive note, it is good for exfoliation.) down to something I actually want to drink and to bathe my body in. I don’t even want to have to remember that my water softener exists, let alone communicate with it, on my phone. My husband would ideally like to chuck his cell phone all together, so no, we don’t need the Wi-fi option. Great, because that brought the price down by half.

A sweet young worker (the smart reader, see previous blog), working on renovations here this week, excitedly espoused about the washer and dryer that he and his girlfriend just bought. He grabbed his phone, told Siri to launch the washer app and showed me how he could turn his washer on, from his phone. Hmmmm, when I’m away from my home, it’s by design. I’m escaping my chores. I don’t want to think about my chores at home. That is why I leave my home, from time to time. Escape. Further, I’m not good at turning things on and off, on my phone. I have trouble getting my phone’s flashlight to turn off, when I accidentally turn it on, somehow. I can only imagine the fiasco of me not being able to get my washer to turn off remotely and having to race home from my “Escape from Home”, to deal with the situation manually, which is all that I want to do in the first place.

I never wanted to become an old curmudgeon. When I was younger, I told myself that I would always remain hip and up with the times. Ha! Those are the things you tell yourself, when you are young. I remember my grandfather exclaiming loudly that he would hang up on us, and hard, if he ever heard an answering machine on the other line. When garage door openers first came out, my parents called them the “epitome of lazy.” Of course my grandfather got an answering machine and who doesn’t have a garage door opener these days? So, probably within a few years my water softener and my washer/dryer will be on my phone’s Contacts list. We may even have a Home Appliance group chat with each other. Never say never.

The Power of Earrings

I went to Target (otherwise known as Tar-jshay) with my daughter yesterday evening. I found a pair of earrings that I liked and I decided to put them on right away, at the cash register, because I had forgotten to wear earrings when I was getting ready. The earrings are long dangles with all different colored tassels. They are playful and fun and surprisingly, not heavy. When I put them on, our cashier exclaimed, “Oh yes, those are great! They make you look happy and young.” She then started stammering something about me actually “being young” and then I didn’t need anything to make me look young, and then she turned as red as her red Target shirt.

I just giggled and said, “That’s great. In that case, I’m never going to take them off.” I mean fashion earrings are a lot cheaper than a face lift or even some of these wrinkle creams on the market. Still, it was one of those moments in life when you notice a shift. Years ago, I was the young person giving stupid, backwards compliments to older people. (unintentionally and meant to be kind, of course) Often I would say, “Wow! You look great for your age!” Note to young people – just stop at “great.” Another thing not to say is “Wow! You look great for having four kids!” Again – just stop at “great”.

I would like to pretend that the comment didn’t bother me at all, but that would be a lie and I wouldn’t be writing about it this morning. Still, the cashier’s comment bothered me only slightly and more, it made me reflect. We put such emphasis on looking and being “young”, yet as I’ve aged, I’ve experienced many, many benefits to being older. Younger isn’t necessarily better. It’s just different. I took the earrings off last night before I went to bed. Maybe today I’ll wear one of the many vintage clip-on pairs that I have collected over the years. Instead of “young and happy”, perhaps the vintage earrings will make me look “older and sage.” I like having the option. It makes me feel free.

Madonna’s Butt

I have to confess that I am not above reading Hollywood gossip, as much as I don’t like that quality in myself. The other night, I found myself clicking through a series of articles discussing/criticizing/critiquing the possibility that Madonna had recently invested in rather unflattering, butt implants. Madonna is aged 60. The overall consensus of the articles that I clicked through, seemed to be, that Madonna takes herself too seriously and that she is not aging gracefully. Many Madonna fans are finding it disconcerting to see her show a level of insecurity that she never seemed to portray before, with her current seemingly unending quest, for hopelessly trying to retain her youth.

Now I don’t know Madonna personally, so I have no idea what her mindset is and I say, if her butt implants make her happy, so be it. But as a woman approaching 50, the question does come up from time to time, “What does aging gracefully mean for me?” There isn’t always a simple, easy answer.

When I was in my 30s, raising small children, I belonged to a neighborhood pool club where all of the other 30-something moms, living in our neighborhood like me, would congregate with our kids. The 30-something moms, sat in the area in close proximity to the kiddie pool, bathrooms and snack bar, for obvious reasons. The 40-something moms had their own area. Their area was closer to shade and the tennis courts. A lot of times, their teenage kids weren’t even at the pool.

I bring this up, because looking back, while the 40-something moms didn’t have our youthful freshness, our sag-free skin and our budding energy levels, they made up for it all and some, with their confidence, ease and comfort level with themselves. They had nothing to prove. While us 30-something moms offered each other a lot of support and camaraderie, there was also a great deal of competition. Who bounced back to bikini body after pregnancy the fastest? Who packed the healthiest snacks and safest pool toys for our kids? Who managed family, marriage, career, beauty, etc. the best? The 40-something moms had enough experience under their belts to know that the competition game was silly and futile. They knew that time was ticking and it was high time to make sure that their own needs were being taken care of, too. A lot of them were excellent tennis players, who spent a lot of time honing their individual skills. They were lovely in their poise and certainty. They were so attractive because of their easy self-assuredness and confidence and their seemingly lack of care about the fleeting things that really don’t matter.

I read a book many years ago, written by a naturopath. I cut out an excerpt from his book and unfortunately I can’t find the name of the source. Still, his wisdom has served as a guide for me, many times, when the reality of aging has reared its ugly head, when I gaze into the mirror on a day when no amount of mental cheerleading makes up for the degeneration that the reflection of the reality of aging, is showing. This is what he said:

“What you need to remember is this: healthy-looking women are way prettier. It’s dumb to think you’re ever going to look young again. You are not. If you set your heart on looking twenty-eight or thirty-eight, you’re going to break it, no matter what this cosmetic maker or that plastic surgeon tells you. Ain’t gonna happen. The best you’re going to do, if you go down that road, is look like a vaguely delusional woman of precisely your age who has gone to a hell of a lot of trouble and expense to achieve a slightly weird look. The real goal is much simpler and easier to achieve. The real goal is to be a terrific-looking woman . . . of precisely your age.”

I think that is what Madonna’s critics are trying to say. Be the best version of yourself at the age that you are currently living, Madge. You don’t have to be young Madonna. You were already her. Be the version of Madonna who has experienced a lot of life and knows the serene value of that wisdom and experience. Be the beautiful image that reflects the irrelevance of the fleeting, and the in-depth beauty of the experienced and the enlightened. Continue to be the renegade to help guide others to what really matters – the inner core of self-awareness and the confidence to let that boldness and fearlessness fly in a way that moves past age and decay. That boldness is timeless. And incredibly beautiful.

Friday’s My Favorite

Buddy the Elf’s Manager: Why are you smiling like that?

Buddy the Elf: I just like to smile. Smiling’s my favorite!

Buddy the Elf’s Manager: Make Work your favorite. That’s your favorite, okay? Work is your new favorite.

Ha! It’s Favorite Things Friday and there is no way, ever that work is going to make the list. Smiling can make the list on Favorite Things Friday, but not work. Nuh-uh, no way, no how. New readers, on Fridays, I keep things light and happy and smiley. There are no deep thoughts on Fridays. I typically list about three things, songs, apps, websites, twitter feeds, etc. that make the experience of my life just a little bit grander. I would love for my readers to get involved in the comments section and add to the favorites list so we all can have an even grander experience is this game called Life.

Today, I am going to expand my list a little bit because I’m only going to discuss nail polish colors. Now, I have hideous fingernails and I’m too lazy, impatient, cheap and rough with my hands, to get acrylics. However, I have always had pride in my feet. I think that I have decently pretty feet. I also love a good pedicure, even more than a massage. Even though “work is not my favorite”, if I had a dream job, I think it would be naming nail polish colors. I think those people are among the most creative people in the world, and I’d love to be part of that colorful crowd! Here goes:

In the brown family: Essie Partner in Crime (a dark, chocolate brown) and Essie Mink Muffs (a light, chocolate milk brown). Also, OPI Krona-logical Order (a greyish, earthy brown).

In the orange family: This is my only go-to in the orange family and I go-to it a lot! Essie Playing Koi (an dark, autumn-like, rusty orange)

In the green family: My skin tone looks terrible with light greens, but this rich, foresty, dark green is fabulous!! Essie Stylenomics

In the blue family: Blue is another tricky color with my skin tone, which bums me out, because I love the blues on other people. That said, I can get away with this light, sky blue version. OPI No Room For The Blues

In the red family: I know Russia is a touchy subject these days, but this is the only red that works for me. Dark, mysterious, maroon-ish and metallic. OPI Midnight in Moscow

My two long-term favorites of all time: Essie Smokin’ Hot (a fabulous milky, dark lavender) and OPI Nein! Nein! Nein! Ok, Fine! (a gorgeous, sophisticated grey)

To give you a frame of reference, I am a natural brunette with brown eyes and medium skin tone. I often have been asked if I am Italian (one very southern woman once asked me if I was in the EYE-talian Mafia, true story), Spanish (a lot of people just start talking to me in Spanish), Middle Eastern, and Native American (this one is more related to my maiden name). Truth be told, according to DNA tests, I’m not at all exotic, much to my dismay. I am mostly English and Irish and a little bit of German. Anyway, readers please share your favorite polish colors!!

Buddy the Elf answering his father’s office phone: Buddy the Elf, what’s your favorite color?

Come on readers, what’s your favorite color??? Happy Friday!!!

The Most Important Lesson

“One of the Best and Most difficult lessons you can learn in life is that no one owes you anything and you owe yourself everything.” – FofF twitter

We have started to get close to the crescendo of the holiday season. I see it in my family and I see it in our stores. I see it in the local restaurants and I see it in my neighbors’ faces. There are parties after parties, food overloads/comas, last minute stresses, shopping and shipping fiascos, final exams, and on a personal level, our family spent most of yesterday on a wild trek/scavenger hunt for the last, decent, real Christmas tree in our part of Florida. (we found it, thank goodness!)

Over Thanksgiving, our 18-month-old Labrador dog, Ralphie, was a frenzied mess. We had 16 people in our home and a lot of those people were teenagers who liked to swim with him, in our pool. He was ecstatic and on total sensory overload. At one point, someone made the comment that he was like a toddler who was beyond exhausted and just didn’t know what to do with himself. With his long tongue sticking out, he aimlessly started pawing at everyone and everything with a wild, blank expression on his face. I think that this is the state that a lot of us get to at some point in the holiday season, and I think that it is starting right now.

It is at this point in the season, that it is so important to stop, pause and just breathe. Nothing is as important as we have built up in our heads or that our stressed bodies are making it feel like. Everything that is truly important will get done. Everything that is meant to happen, will happen and all will be fine. All is well.

I love the opening quote because sometimes during the holidays, often us females particularly, try to do so much to make the holidays “perfect” with the hidden expectation that if we do everything just right, Santa or someone else is going to make the holidays “perfect” for us. Deep down though, we know that this is not how it works. As we are finishing up the season, we must bring the focus back to ourselves. We must remember that no one can fill up our mind, body, spirit needs except us, and that “trifecta of filling up” is our biggest responsibility, to ourselves so that we can be there for others. Today, we need to be honest with ourselves about what we need. Those needs should be on the top of today’s holiday “to-do” list.

“Slow down. You’re too important. Life teaches you how to live it, if you live long enough.” – Tony Bennett, on what advise he would have given to Amy Winehouse

Happy Birthday Beethoven!

Happy Birthday to Beethoven and to me! Beethoven is 248 and I am 48. I’ve actually reached the age that when someone asks me how old I am I have to roll my eyes up into my head, think, do some math and finally come out with the right answer. When I was a kid, I used to think that was a lot of bunk when adults did that, but I now realize that forgetting your age, really does happen. You reach middle age and you know that you are in a certain age range, but the actual number never sticks with you. I’m not sure it that is a sign of early dementia or subconscious rebellion/denial, but I now know that whatever causes it, it’s a real thing. However, for today, I know that I am 48.

I guess being 48 means that I really am approaching age 50, in a very serious way. Honestly, I really don’t mind. My body is definitely slowing down, and that gets frustrating. I wore some pretty high heels to the Christmas party last night and I feel like I ran a marathon in record speed this morning, my body aches so much. Still, from a mental, emotional, and life stage point of view, I am very optimistic about my fifties. I feel like I know myself better than I have ever known myself. I think I approach life with more curiosity, appreciation and acceptance than I ever have before. I no longer try to conquer and control Life. I’m better at letting Life flow.

When I was on the brink of my forties, my whole life changed in many, major ways. Let’s just say that my husband and I were the Poster Kids for the Recession. Our life as we knew it, completely and irrevocably disappeared and we ended up having to move our large family to a whole new city and state, to begin again. And, guess what? It’s a cliche to say it, but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to our family, on so many fronts. I strongly believe that God/the Universe knows what it’s doing. My faith lies in that.

Years ago, I read a very fun, upbeat book in which the author insisted that everything that happens to you, is meant to guide you to joy. Now, I get that statement can be a tough pill to swallow, especially when you are going through one of those really rough “Why me?” times in life, but if you really look for it, there is a glimmer of goodness and transformation in every single experience. I believe that with every fiber of my body.

I once again want to thank you for reading my blog, commenting on my blog, bolstering me and rooting for me. You, my readers, have been a wonderful gift in my life this year. Happy Birthday to me! It’s going to be a great year and a great upcoming decade for all of us!!

Holiday Hottie

Recently I read this question/answer in Quora. The questioner asked, “What age is considered middle age?” The best voted answer came from a writer named Rufus Evison. He said, “It keeps changing. The important thing is not to give up making an effort. If you are resting on your laurels and getting fatter, that is middle age.”

The truth hurts. Today I am making an effort. I am going into the salon for my pre-holiday beauty refresh. I will be there for hours and hours. That is definitely a sign of middle age for women – the older you are, the longer you will spend in the hair salon. We have a couple of holiday parties coming up this weekend and I am making my effort to try to look like I am just at the early stages of middle age. I’m going to try to make the hours and hours spent in the salon today, look more like an “effortless, popped out of bed, looking this way” freshness at the parties. Ha!

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve mentioned eating cookies and other holiday treats a lot in my blog, in recent weeks. Ugh. It shows. And I don’t live up north, so I can’t hide those few extra pounds in clothing layers, bulky Christmas sweaters and oversized coats. Double ugh. I wish that these parties were costume parties with themes like Best Jolly Santa or Fattest Frosty.

I read once that you can look completely “finished” if you just put your hair in a neat, tidy, nape pony tail, wear over-sized sunglasses and bright lipstick. That’s been my “go-to” look lately. That, or baseball caps, or even just my warm, fuzzy robe, have been the “holiday look” for me, so far. I get that these are pretty weak laurels to rest on, Rufus. So, it’s off to the salon, I go. If I really want to look younger than middle age and look like a “holiday hottie”, I may have to stay at the salon throughout the holidays, and be ready just in time for the New Year’s Eve celebrations. Hmmmmmm . . . .

Llamas, Sloths and Gnomes

Every year, there seems to be a few particularly popular symbols or creatures and true to American form, we take that character and run with it. We put it on everything from towels, to soaps, to cups, to garden accessories, to underwear. This year I have seen a lot of llamas, sloths and those cute, little gnomes, in which the only thing that you can see is their adorable little ball of a nose, sticking out from under their pointy hats. At Christmas time, these items seem to multiply, and usually with little holiday additions, like holly berries and some tinsel, to add to their charm.

I have not been immune to this craze. I have a couple of sloth accessories, several llama trinkets and about 500 versions of the nose gnome. I’ve loved gnomes since I was a kid and this particular version is extremely irresistible to me.

When my husband and I were first married, we became friends with a Swedish family, who came to America for a couple of years, on a work visa. Our Swedish friends said that one of the things that struck them the most about America, was the overwhelming abundance of choices, when it came to just about anything. They said that they even found toothpaste shopping to be stressful, due to the plethora of brands and flavors.

It’s easy to be a collector of just about anything in America. There are so many options available. I think that this is something that many of us take for granted. Truthfully, some of us take this American perk, a little too far, thus the TV show, Hoarders. Every once in a while, I make myself watch that show, just to keep myself in check. I don’t want my readers to watch that show someday and see me buried in a pile of llama, sloth and big-nosed gnome trinkets. I want to still be able to get to my computer and to write. Plus, I want to still have plenty of room for objects portraying the new “in” symbol of cuteness, every single year.

The Old and the New

Today I’m going to see people I haven’t seen in a very long time. This includes adults and children. The “children” are now teenagers who will tower over me and I’ll say the same dumb thing that was always said to me by middle-aged people when I was their age, “Oh my goodness! The last time I saw you, you were only this big!” I’ll put my hand at some arbitrary spot near to my waist and they will smile at me awkwardly, silently wondering how the hell they are supposed to respond to that statement.

The other adults and I will politely tell each other the opposite statement. “Oh my goodness! You haven’t changed one bit!” We all know that’s a lie. Someone recently told me that aging is like a toilet paper roll, the closer you get to the end of it, the faster it goes. That is the truth. Still, it will feel good to hug each other and know that even though we all have aged, the familiar essence of the core people we care about, is still nestled into those slightly older, worn for the wear packages, showing that we all have experienced all sorts of life, since we have seen each other last.

I’m expecting the kids to be the most changed, of course. I’m really curious to talk to them individually. When kids are little, you kind of lump them into a group and they like it that way; they are “the kids”. At gatherings, kids would much prefer to be in little bands of their own company versus awkwardly staring at the adults leering down at them, comparing that particular child’s growth chart movement from the previous year. My husband even noted recently that for years, he saw our four children, as more of one entity, “the kids.” Now that our children are spreading out in all different directions, it’s easier to see their individuality and their unique qualities and tastes, more than it ever was before.

As for the adults, even though I haven’t see them in forever, I can already predict their actions, what they’ll say, and how they’ll laugh. I am expecting these peoples’ certain idiosyncrasies to remind me of our shared history and familiarity. Undoubtedly, they’ll be expecting my predictable behaviors, as well. Sometimes, I wonder if this is really a fair way to approach it, though. All parties involved, adults and children have gone through quite a bit of experience since we have seen each other last. These experiences will certainly have molded and molted all of us, young and old.

Years ago, I copied this quote by Azar Nafisi, out of one of my son’s yearbooks. It is a good one:

“You get a strange feeling when you are about to leave a place. You will not only miss the people you love, but you will miss the person you are now, at this time and this place, because you will never be this way ever again. But you are excited for the person you are swimming towards and look forward to the new you that awaits in the distance.”

It doesn’t matter, whatever the age we are, all of us are always swimming towards new versions of ourselves. This will happen always, while we are still alive and breathing. Perhaps I should approach the adults just as I plan to do with the kids, with wide-eyed curiosity, of who they are today and what effects their experiences have had on the persons they are still becoming. Hopefully, they will approach me in the same way and it will be like getting to know new people, but with that familiar comfort of shared experiences long ago.

Character Marks

“Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me, I want people to know “why” I look this way. I’ve traveled a long way and some of the roads weren’t paved.” – Will Rogers

This summer we took some wonderful hiking trips and on one of them I ended up with my legs covered in a rash from poison oak. That’s okay. I would do it all over again. But I do have some nasty pink scars left on my legs that I scratched so much that I think I invited some varicose veins to the surface to join the fun. Sometimes I just “own” the scars, sometimes I cover them up with concealer and sometimes I look up telephone numbers of doctors who inject veins to make them go away.

I think I’m at the stage where I’m on the fence of aging gracefully versus fighting the fight to keep a youthful appearance. When I was in my late thirties, I found a cool magazine clipping and I hung it on my mirror. It had a picture of a beautiful woman with a few lines on her face. It said something to the effect that “Beauty is accumulative and all of these lines are just character marks from the story of your life.” That sounded so right . . . . when I was in my thirties.

“Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.” – Kurt Vonnegut

I love that quote from Kurt Vonnegut’s famous commencement speech. It makes me feel winsome and hopeful at the same time. When I’m 75, I guess I’ll look back at pictures taken of me now and wish that I looked like what I look like right now.

In today’s world of giant, overwhelming beauty stores like Ulta and Sephora, of every procedure available to turn you into whatever boob size/nose size/butt size/movie star you want, of impossibly attractive 80-year-old actresses like Jane Fonda, and households of Kardashian sisters becoming multi-millionaires primarily due to the hustling of their collective beauty, it’s hard to decide what your own limits are to “preserve and protect” versus letting it all go and just being free.

I guess it really does come down to doing what you want, what you value and what makes you feel good with the realization that you can’t stop others from doing what they feel the need to do and be. Do you want to be that perfectly preserved, valuable, beautiful, ageless Barbie doll in the box or the much lived, loved, tattered and torn, worn for the wear, kindly and comely Velveteen rabbit? Probably most of us will end up being something in-between and that is okay. We have to forgive the flawless Barbies and the sanctimonious rabbits, though. They have the right to their decisions and we have the right to ours. Perhaps if we feel love and compassion for all of us as we work through this aging process together, those feelings will glow through and as a whole we will see beauty like we have never seen and it will be timeless.