Impossible

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 Impossible

I is for Impossible in the Alphabet Series. There are many fabulous words beginning with the letter I­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­. Words like; impromptu, improvise, improbable, and imply to name a few and therefore it was difficult to choose.

Then I woke-up today and have a crazy habit of reminding myself of the date, day of the week, and how many days are left in the year. Well, there are only 113 days before we say goodbye to 2023, and hello to 2024. And that’s where impossible became first and foremost in my mind. Impossible, as in never or slim to none chance of happening.

 Yet it did happen! How could I possibly be seventy-five years old? It’s not my birthday, or even my birthday week. My birthday is in June. But every day since then I’ve lamented the impossibility of being this age.

 I could approach this impossibility with an attitude adjustment. Is the glass have full, and I’m lucky to be alive, or half empty, and holy crap; I’m done with the good years?   

 Since I work well towards a goal, I’ve decided to reach 80 (that’s only 5 years away), so let’s make it 90 which is fifteen years away and not be wearing diapers. It’s not impossible  

The View

The Days of My Life Series  She wore unhappy clothes and her hair hugged her face beneath a hood. Even the dog she walked seemed forlorn. I watched her through the front window of our breakfast nook, daily. Frequently, she … Continue reading

Christmas 2022

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Christmas 2022 Poem

The Day After Christmas

It was the day after Christmas the presents unwrapped. The plants nestled and covered. . . taking a nap.

We stayed in pajamas relieved only three gifts go back,

Then what to my wondering ears did I hear, “didsomeonejustshout?”

Confused, I responded, “what are you talking about?”

Bob repeated, “didsomeonejustshout?”

I hollered back.

To which he exclaimed, “WEDNESDAY…THE…GARBAGE…GOES OUT”

Merry Christmas to all!

 Wishing you a happy and healthy New Year

. . .Claudia just saying.

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Day Seven

The next morning, Tuesday, of our trip (no pun intended), would have been day seven of our vacation. However, no one was calling this a vacation. Somehow Bob had sleep and I finally fell asleep only to be awaken at 5:30 by an alarm clock. I guess the previous guest wanted to see the sunrise, and yes; the water bottle urinal had come in handy during the night.

Betsy and Bill brought coffee and explained they had attempted to check out and told; NO ONE EVER GETS A REFUND.She had asked to speak with the general manager and told, he wasn’t in.

It felt like salt was poured into our wound.

Meanwhile, Daniel came by, and asked how we were doing. On the verge of tears, I explained the no refund policy, and said, “I know it’s not the hotel’s fault Bob fell, but it feels mean., really mean.”

His eyes expressed sincere regret.

Shortly after I received a cell call from the general manager informing me, we would receive a refund.

Daniel returned and assisted Bob into the car. No one wanted a repeat of last night.

And so, the 571-mile trek back to Fort Collins had begun. We may have stopped at McDonald’s for fish sandwiches, I can’t remember. We stopped, but. . . Bob didn’t get out of the car. He was unable keep down any fluid, There was no voiding.

On the way I phoned Southwest. “I have a medical emergency and will need assistance,” I said.

They switched our return flight to the next day, and assured me a wheelchair would be waiting.   

. . . just saying

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B is for Brain Power

B is for Brain Power

My joints are stiff, my muscles suffer from atrophy and my brain is rusty. There is no doubt about it. It is called growing old, and the decline goes hand and hand with aging.

But is this true?

What if physical decline is not as heavily tied to aging as we think?

What if our brain is like a muscle that suffers when not used?

The expression grow old suggests a condition we developed. However, many ninety-year old’s have more energy and are less forgetful than peers in their seventies. Some of us become decrepit, some don’t and some maintain a quality of life well beyond their physical ailments. Why?

I thought of Christopher Columbus, not because he was old but because he disputed the belief that the world was flat and travelers would fall off. Yes! I know he didn’t set out to prove the world was round; the hope of profit from the spice trade made him set sail, but his frequent voyages proved the point. The world was round. People had been limiting their behavior based on a false belief.

Is aging a self-fulfilling prophecy? gb_magazine_fall20_cover-1161x1536-1-1

Growing Bolder, a movement to rebrand aging, thinks it doesn’t have to be so. There is a PBS television show, podcast and magazine and numerous resources to support the idea.

“To change the way we age, we have to change the narrative around aging. Growing Bolder is doing just that. Learn how to stop growing older and start Growing Bolder.”

. . . just saying

Check out their website https://www.growingbolder.com/stories/introducing-the-new-look-growing-bolder-magazine/

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A Self Help Look

The Self Help Look

I’ve thought of writing a self-help series to help myself deal with life and aging. You know something along the lines of; tips on how to get out of a chair or remembering where you’ve parked, and planned to hit the ground running on New Years’ Day.

Today is the first day of the year and the first day of the rest of your life would be the break out sentence. It’s catchy enough don’t you think?

The next day, I woke up thinking; every day is the first day of the rest of your life and readers might be bored. So, I switched to Today is the first day of the end of your life. I thought this funny and was amused with myself. After all, as my golfer husband says, “We’re on the back nine headed to the 18th hole.”

Would readers enjoy my black humor? I needed help and more than likely, unable to help myself. So, I put the self-help series on hold.

Then I found a pair of lost earrings and felt lucky. Perhaps I would focus on a series about luck. The lucky feeling continued when Bernie Sander’s mitten picture was plastered across the news.

Aren’t we lucky to have people like him to lighten the mood?

Perhaps I can help myself. I could call it The Aging Alphabet Series; A is for Attitude, B is for Brain Power, C is for Constipation, D is for Dementia, etc.  

. . . just saying

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What Are You Thinking?

 

Bings Landing, Hammock Florida

A friend phoned to invite me out today, I declined saying I was hoping to have a thought, something to write about, as Sunday is my day to post. I had not had one yet, and explained that these days I have to jumpstart my brain, and in addition, my sister had been visiting and we had been sightseeing. The pictures above were taken at Bings Landing where we had lunch at The Captains BBQ and enjoyed the view.  

The conversation caused me to think about thinking, or my failure to. I take that back, I think but not quickly and grab paper and pencil to write down my thoughts, so I do not forget. It didn’t used to be this way.

Before turning 70 years of age, I could keep a thought or idea in my head to be retrieved later. It occurred to me that maybe there is no more room in my head for new thoughts and perhaps the reason we keep thinking old thoughts, i.e., when I was young milk was 25 cents a gallon is because we have accumulated too many thoughts, many of which are dated.

Is there a way to get rid of old thoughts? Head concussions and strokes cause memory loss although these measures would be drastic. Perhaps we can delete or compress some thoughts to make space for new thoughts by viewing old thoughts from a new perspective. For example, can stale bread be made into bread pudding?

The Daytona Beach News-Journal article, ‘Luckiest guy in the world’ reported on the 100th Birthday celebration for Howard Turner a volunteer ambassador at Daytona Beach Airport. When asked about aging he said, “I’m lucky to be walking around. I don’t have a cane. I’m not in a wheelchair, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” Who could argue with him. He did not talk about memory loss and says he looks to the future, perhaps that is his delete button.

We know the body slows down and the mind becomes stale with aging, but should we throw the loaf of bread out or make bread pudding?

I am thinking of standing on my head, it is just a thought.

What are you thinking?

. . . . just saying

 

The Ten Year Challenge

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You would have to be living under a rock not to have heard about the “Ten-year Challenge” or like me, learned late in the game of the latest social media meme.

What is a meme you ask? Again, I am learning after the brou ha, ha. Merriam/Webster.com defines a meme as an element of a culture or system of behavior passed from one individual to another by non-genetic means, especially imitation. In other words, the latest craze or fad proliferated by social media.

Richard Dawkins, the British Scientist, first used the word in 1976 as “a unit of cultural transmission” to describe behavior. He was not talking about the flu.

The latest meme, the Ten Year Challenge, started on Facebook as a mindless past time; the craze took to Instagram and everyone jumped on the wagon, environmentalists reviewing how the past ten years have aged nature, and intellectual types, like John Dickerson of CBS News, talked about the benefits of aging on character, mind, and moral responsibility, although there was no mention of the President.

While celebrities are flaunting their good looks and comparing themselves in their twenties to their thirties, I wonder how I will look in ten years when eighty. Will I recognize myself?

The fun however, was short lived as suspicion arose that Facebook’s real purpose was for facial recognition, then lead to rumors they are colluding with Russia, and hint of a Muller investigation. The President did not comment on Twitter nor post before and after pictures on Instagram, while Sara Huckabee rolled her eyes and quietly said the rumors are unfounded and fake news.*

Investigations aside, facial recognition is becoming a scary issue for me. Life expectancy for a person my age is eighty and increases with age. My mom is ninety-five and still alive, factor in modern medicine and there is a good chance I will live another twenty-five years. Will I recognize myself?

Probably not, so I am working on a ten-year plan for Elderhood, you know like childhood when you wore diapers and had temper tantrums when told what to do.

The solution, I am going to lean in and embrace Elderhood; lose five lbs, travel more and write everyday.

 . . . . just saying.com

 

*Really fake news and not true, I made it up, unless proven otherwise

 

Make Your Bed Exercise

 

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 If we cannot change the behavior, can we change how we view the behavior?

One year ago, while struggling to make our Queen Size bed I questioned when did this bedspread become so heavy?

The task had become tedious, requiring walking around the bed about ten times to achieve a wrinkle free look, all the while complaining. I did not have the strength to flip the comforter across the bed.

I recalled working as a waitress/chambermaid at the Green Gables Hotel in Hensonville New York, how we would run upstairs after serving breakfast, to strip and remake beds, each bed taking approximately five minutes. We were back downstairs before the quest left the dining room. The year was 1964, and I was sixteen.

Bob, my husband, said, “Don’t make the bed. It’s only going to get messed up again.”

He is right, however I am a tidy person, an unmade bed was not an option. Call it a routine or habit started in childhood, you dressed and made your bed before breakfast.

I prefer the clean orderly picture a well-made bed creates and remember as a Mom of toddlers tripping over Lincoln Logs, Match Box cars, baby dolls, and diapers in the living room to find refuge in my bedroom and look at a tidy bed, knowing hospital corners were concealed under the spread.

Now, I was not only older, but weaker.

Consequently, I signed up at a gym, even hired a personal trainer, and started treating the task of making a bed a challenge.

The results were slow but steady, considering I wanted to avoid pain and think sweating is highly over rated.

However, in July, we traveled north to escape Florida’s heat for four weeks, and I was at risk of becoming a statistic, most people (80%) stop going to the gym after five months.

13ff6543-74a7-4938-811f-97e6d4c24c9a_1.db6bc136ad0b6ef50bc16d0a248f0d17Luckily, I discovered a PBS program, Classical Stretch. by instructor Miranda Esmonde-White.  Her exercise program is amazing. I even bought her book, “Aging Backwards.” my friends are sick and tired of hearing me talk about her so I have stopped.

However, just listening to her talk while she exercises gave me a new perspective on aging.

She says the notion that muscle atrophy is synonymous with aging is false. The breakdown of muscles, muscle atrophy, is not caused by aging but by lack of use, and can happen at any age, but happens more quickly as we age. She references research to support her exercise approach to counter the premises that muscle atrophy is a side effect of aging.

So making a bed is more difficult at seventy, than at sixteen years old, not because of aging, but because of less activity. Miranda says in layman’s words, muscles not being used are programed to die.

Which came first the chicken or the egg or in this case, aging or less active? It does not matter, the solution is to exercise, all six hundred and forty muscles.

Since doing Classical Stretch, a twenty-three minute program, five days a week I have stopped taking naps and can make the bed in less than five minutes.     

. . . . just saying

 

 

Gray Hair and Feeling Maudlin

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Now that the Christmas tree is back in the box it came in, and the furniture in its proper place, I am excited to start the New Year. Our grand-kids will be visiting this week and my husband, Bob, and I plan to visit Italy in the Spring. The temperature today is sixty-five, and its sunny. Life seems good when Bob mumbles something from the living room.

After forty-seven years of marriage, I am not certain if the mumbling is to annoy me, or he has forgotten I cannot hear with the water running and question what he said, “Really? Alex Trebek is going off the air because he shaved his mustache?”

Bob is watching Jeopardy, and raises his voice to shout, “No I don’t like Alex Trebek with or without his mustache.”

There is something discerning about his tone. I turn off the water, grab a dishtowel, and join him on the couch. “I thought you liked Jeopardy.”

He continues grumbling that if the show had more categories about sports, he would know every answer, and that Alex Trebek is cheap, not giving every contestant all their earnings. I agree, second and third place contestants receive $2,000 and $1,000 respectively not their final Jeopardy winnings.

Understand, Bob can be grumpy. He sports a tattoo; one of Disney’s Seven Dwarfs, Grumpy, however this seems unusual, and I ask, “Are you feeling maudlin?”

He replies emphatically, “Yes! I just don’t know what else can go wrong!”

Surprised by his reaction, I am concerned and say, “Has something happened?”

Now, Bob has had numerous medical challenges and I joke, “He has no pancreas, no spleen, no gallbladder, no thyroid and no appendix but a full head of hair and all his own teeth.” He is a healthy man. So I ask again, “What is it?”

Hesitantly he says, “Today after golf, I showered, and like I always do, combed my hair, head down over the sink, but when I stood up the sink was full of gray hair. I am losing my hair! I can’t believe something else is wrong.”

No wonder he is feeling maudlin, the salt and pepper hair makes him look younger. However, I laugh and through uncontrollable chuckles explain the gray hair is mine, combed into the sink while cleaning my hairbrush that morning, and evidently forgot to wipe up.

“So I’m not losing my hair,” he says and relieved joins me in laughter.

I am reminded of a Betty Davis quote, “Old age is not for sissies.” She is right.

                                                                        . . . . just saying