Zero Ending Birthdays

Posted on by

7

happy-birthday-ornament-backgrounds-wallpapers

Aging & Attitude

A dear writing friend, Marsha, recently celebrated a  zero ending birthday or a “big one” and shared her thoughts about the occasion. She offers an interesting perspective I think you’ll enjoy.

Zero Ending Birthdays

                                      by Guest Blogger, Marsha

Birthday Blog

 (to no one in particular – just because I feel like writing a blog)

I recently celebrated one of those “milestone” birthdays. For the last ten years there has been just a one digit change to the years of life number, but now all of sudden both digits have changed! That comfort zone has been lost to a whole new era of unfamiliar and intimidating numbers. Plus there is this new theory that you are actually ten years younger than your age now, based on the wonders of baby boomers living longer than their predecessors, which presents an entirely new issue of confusion.

Graduating to the new number has also brought to light the birthday cards designed for the consumer to address this milestone. And for some reason, many well wishers seem to think they need to send a card with the new number boldly emblazoned on the front of the card. I hadn’t received a number card before that I could recall, although I probably did for the big 40 (can’t really remember at this point – and it was probably a funny card), as we see a lot of decorations available for this particular birthday milestone in the party stores.

But my recent birthday seems to have prompted a bevy of different salutations that shouted “you should feel excited to be alive at a time when you are really free to live”,” liking what you have become”, or “ this day is to celebrate the beginning of the most beautiful years of your life.”

Seriously – does this make me feel good? Is this a happy birthday greeting?

I’m sorry, but I find this disconcerting and almost downright rude. Do people really think we want to hear this stuff? Isn’t it enough that we are in the quagmire of not yet qualifying for Social Security, dealing with healthcare insurance issues and grappling with where to invest our hard earned retirement money?

You have probably guessed my new number by now.

Please understand that I don’t mind the aging process. I can live with that. What I object to is being reminded that my double digit birthday is a landmark that is being shouted from the rooftops by these ridiculous cards that come our way at a time when you would rather celebrated the day with a simple “Happy Birthday” or a piece of cake……

As my friend Claudia would say

                            ….Just saying

Bored On The Fourth Of July

Posted on by

8

 Photo: For guaranteed fireworks on the Fourth.

Aging & Attitude

We have been to the beach in the morning, a barbeque in the afternoon and are walking to the Town Green for evening fireworks.  Mr. Wonderful spies a stone wall spot, wide enough for two fannies, on the Green and inquires of the boy sitting next to his family, “Are these taken?”

The space is available; we sit and attempt to get comfortable on the hard rock.

The kid has a sour face and being a Grandma, I poke him with my elbow and say in a friendly way, “You don’t look happy.”

“I’m bored,” is his response.

“What’s wrong with being bored?”  I ask. “It isn’t an illness; people get bored, great thoughts are given birth by boredom.”

His perplexed look is memorable, not rude and I continue talking. “How long have you been bored?”

“A few minutes,” he mumbles but sits up, straightens his back.

I have his attention, now what to do with it. “You must have an exciting life if you’ve only been bored a few minutes.”

“Actually I do, have you ever heard of Malaysia?”

I nodded my head yes.

“I was born in Malaysia, before my parents got married, then we moved to California. They got married and I have two brothers. Now we live in Georgia.” He informs me with animation.

His mother’s glance in my direction confirms my inclination not to ask questions. I lean forward to see his brothers who look nothing like him.

Thinking, better bring the conversation back to boring I say, “Boredom could be time for your brain to rest, or think. You seem thoughtful, how old are you?”

“Why don’t you guess?” is his baited reply.

I study his intelligent eyes and sudden smile, and decided to err on the side of older. “Thirteen?”

“Gee, most people say ten or eleven, I’m twelve.” He answers not hiding his pleasure.

“Seems you’re a thinker, does your school encourage thinking?” He knows my point without further explanation.

“Well you see, mostly you have to have the right answer, but the teacher lets us fight but everyone yells and I…

I interject, “we called it discussions or debates, and the yelling, heated or passionate, like John Adams and Thomas Jefferson did in Congress.”

His mind fast, forwards, “Well, have you heard of  the Marshal Art Taekwondo? See I’m a black belt, the, master is very strict with me, well, like if I don’t do something I have to do push ups, because I will be like a  leader, like keeping peace. Well, it’s like teaching etiquette, or right, have you heard about etiquette?”

“Like a Benjamin Franklin?” I ask, and watch him absorb my comment as the first fireworks explode across the sky.

We are both quiet for the next half hour and enjoy the special effects of our conversation.

Leaving, I ask, “What is your name?”

“Joshua,” he answers with a smile of perfect teeth.

“Joshua, thanks for talking with me.”

I want to say, but don’t, “I’ve heard of discipline and etiquette and feel hopeful for America, you have too.”

The thought lingers in the air.

. . . . Just saying

Help and The Help Button

Posted on by

10

images

Aging & Attitude

Computers are great. I personally have a love hate relationship with them. I feel in the dark and constantly ask, “How would I know that?” Use the help button is the answer.

Is the help button helpful?

Depends, if you ask the right question.

Case in point, I wanted to change the tired saying, “Do a Good Deed Daily,” at the bottom of my email to “just saying”.

I put the message in, surely, I can get it out.

I attempted to use Yahoo help search, typed in delete a note or message, and got nowhere.

After an hour of trying, I emailed Yahoo Mail Customer Care and praise the Lord received instructions from Tito, who told me what I really wanted to do, change the signature and the seven steps necessary to make the change.

Exhausted I moved the email to a Save Folder for later.

In the meantime, I had other dilemmas. My wireless stopped working.

Do you know how the internet works? You can watch the utube video; There and Back Again: A Packet’s Tale – How doe…By worldscifest| 1 video for a quick study.

I attempted to restore my wireless using troubleshooting, checked and double checked the settings, but was still off-line, so I picked up the phone and called Dell for help.

The customer service representative was diligent, but unsuccessful in restoring my service, and finally enlisted a supervisor to discover there is an on/off wireless button on a Dell computer. How would I know this?

Mine had been accidentally turned off.

When our General Electric digital camera worked intermittently, I read the manual to rectify the problem but could not, then called customer service and asked to mail the camera back, it seemed defective.

They telephoned, said the camera was tested, not broken and would be returned it to me.

It still worked intermittently.

I went to Radio Shack to buy a new card, and told the sales person my tale of woe. He reinserted the card and return the camera to me saying, “It’s fine.”

Exacerbated I exclaimed, “It wasn’t working a minute ago!” I opened the flap, took out the card, and reinserted it.

The sales person smiled, “It didn’t  click.”

“Didn’t click. What click?” I inquired.

Evidently, the card is not fully in until it clicks.

How would I know that?

Recently my friend,  Christine, of Words etc, solved a few computer issues for me using the help button and restored the notion the help button is helpful.

However using the help button involves viewing the instructions and the annoying list of how to do that, gives me a headache.

  • Cut & paste the seven steps, in word and print the instructions.
  • Memorize seven steps
  • Scribble abbreviations on a scrap of paper
  • Restore down

I have a better solution.

Use two electronic devices, one to view the help instructions and the other to make the changes or corrections.

Since I have a wireless laptop and a kindle fire, I put them side by side.

On the Kindle Fire, type change signature in Yahoo Help and open Yahoo Mail on the laptop.

Now the instructions are in plain view and I can make the changes, no problemo (I’m part Italian).

                                                                ….Just saying

New Year Resolutions In July

Posted on by

14

images

Half Way There

Aging & Attitude

The Rise & Shine section of the News Journal, informs the reader of the date, the days left in the year and gives a quote.

Today is Tuesday, June 19 the 171st day of 2012 and there are 195 days left in the year.

The quote; “One has two duties – to be worried and not to be worried” by EM Foster a British author (1879-1970)

I worry. We are 171 days into the year and I am nowhere near accomplishing my New Year’s resolutions. Remember, the things we planned to change and have not.

I saw Bubbles at the gym recently. She is not thinner, neither am I.

I have lost and regained the same two pounds many times in the past six months and frequent the gym although, the measurements logged in my journal have not changed. The good news is I am not heavier nor wider.

No, there are not 171 entries in my writing journal even though it was a New Year’s resolution to write every day. There are fifty, well less than forty.

I am moving at a snail’s pace.

How are you doing with those New Year’s Resolutions?

I gave up weeding (number one on the list), but lack a sense of real accomplishment, because I sold the house to do it, literally.

I am eating healthier after attending a Vegan Festival and scared shitless about meat and milk. We eat soymilk, cheese, and margarine. Boca Burgers pass for a real burger. Tofurky has the taste of sausage but the consistency of a hardboiled egg white. The picture shows a recent birthday dinner, cheesy potatoes, kale, and blackened tuna with salsa, quite delicious. Mr. Wonderful raved about the cheesy potatoes made with butternut squash. VegRecipes.org.

It feels like I am taking three steps forward and two steps backwards every day.

However, I am not worried because there are 195 days remaining in 2012 to make those resolutions  happen.

We need a boost, like retail does with a Christmas in July sale.

Why not revisit New Year’s Eve Resolutions in July?

Rather than abandon goals or throw the baby out with the bath water, re-energize, re-organize and re-think strategies.

This is Leap year and there are 366 days in 2012. The 183nd day of the year, halfway to 2013 will be in 13 days or July 2 (for those of you not good in math, trust me).

Rethink failure, join me in celebrating July 2 as “Halfway to Resolution Day”. Forget about fireworks and a big celebration. Sit in a corner, ponder the consequences and let me know.                                                                                           

                                                       ….just saying

(Those exempt from resolution are eligible to comment)

Pedaling Father’s Day

Posted on by

6

card-FathersDay-BikeCTMHAging & Attitude

     The pedaling of an old man riding a wide-tire bicycle grabs my attention as I drive Acoma road. He wears red Ked shoes, the methodical around and around is mesmerizing.  I press the car brakes, slow to a crawl and drop back, to give the senior space, as we approach the corner stop.

A large droopy straw hat shades his face from the morning sun.  He sports a long sleeve plaid shirt and hazardous baggy Dockers.  The blue and chrome fender bike has no basket or hand brakes.

Behind him rides a younger man in a metallic Speedo shirt and black skin-tight shorts.  He wears a helmet and mustache, and he does not pass abruptly. Instead, he moves to coast gently beside the elder, a solid traffic barrier.  They ease the corner together, dance a Minuet synchronized to Chopin.

I stop at the corner, turn right, and follow, absorbing their relationship. It is paternal; head, back and shoulders are an older/younger version of each other.   The son peddles ahead deliberate not to look back, allows his father to ride independently while protected. The old man’s bike wheel does not wobble and the handlebars do not shake. There is an air of pride accompanying his movement. I drive by and see his wrinkled face, guess he is eighty. A full head of peppered gray hair surround a son’s face with minimal expression lines and suggest he  is sixty.

My mind conjures a past Father’s Day, the father wearing the same plaid shirt, Dockers and Ked shoes, the son, jeans and a white t-shirt, both much younger.  Imagine it is 1958, the father, teaching, leads the way with subtle protectiveness and allows the son to celebrate his newly acquired skill, riding a bike. “Daddy, look at me!” He yells with a big smile.

Today is Father’s Day 2012. I watch the pair celebrate with a simple act of being there if needed, pedaling their bicycles.

 . . . . just saying


Careful What You Wish For and George Foreman

Posted on by

7

GE DIGITAL CAMERA

In January, Mr. Wonderful and I turned to each other and said, “Gee, I wish we could sell the house.” January 11th we sat with a dear friend, who is a realtor, and signed the papers.

No fooling, April 1st, we received and accepted an offer.  Our wish came true that fast and we scrambled to find a living place with enough space for our “stuff.”

We fell in love with a Villa apartment about 15 miles north of Halifax Plantation in Hammock Dunes.  It was everything we said we never wanted, a gated community, no garage, no attic, no recycling and because a second home for many owners, alive on the weekends.

However, there are flowers galore, and no weeding (a harmful addiction I have struggled to overcome). We would give up 1200 sq. ft. of screened lanai living area, say good-by to barbecue grilling, and empty the water-bed.

We were not, unhappy, just conflicted and now renters.

Mr. Wonderful hired Two Men and A Truck for moving day, and got a Budget rental truck to transport numerous boxes plus other stuff to Eagles Nest storage facility, while I cried and sold treasured belongings, including the gas grill, on Craigslist.

We have grilled for the past thirty-five years. Yes, with snow on the ground and in the garage protected from downpours.

We started in 1977 using a Hibachi on an apartment balcony in the Bronx.  Hibachi is what Northerners call a small charcoal table grill. You still see them in State parks. Before Mr. Wonderful came home from work, I started the charcoal briquettes in a one pound coffee can that had both ends removed. I filled the can with ten charcoal briquettes, squirted lighter fluid at them, and struck a match to ignite. In a half  hour, they were hot enough to spread out, add more briquettes, and grill a chuck steak.

After a debate about sneaking a grill on the 10 by 12 foot apartment balcony, a George Foreman grill became an option.GE DIGITAL CAMERA

I was skeptical about a cooking device designed by a man punched in the face for a living who named all six sons George, after himself. Surprise, surprise, the grill does a nice job.  Evidently, George has become an expert and there are forty or more models to choose from.  We might have to upgrade.

We have been here ten days.

While unpacking, I realized we no longer use, but are attached to some ‘stuff’.

The packed silver set is a good example. Include, three sets of stainless steel unpacked, and we have thirty-six, dinner forks, salad forks, knives, teaspoons, and soup spoons; a total of 180 eating utensils.

Well, I am still making pasta salad for eight; hoping more than two will show up.

                                                                               ….Just saying

$100,000 Harvard Pay Toilets

Posted on by

6

Toilet_bowl : Several hundred dollar bills in a toilet bowl about to be flushed Stock Photo

Aging & Attitude

I sit in a doctor’s office waiting room. After about twenty minutes, annoyed with myself for not bringing a book, search the magazine rack and decide upon an issue of Time, dated March 12th. The news is still new to me, I have not read the magazine. In the business section, a small heading grabs my attention.

     $100,000  Pay Toilets Your Name Here

I am familiar with naming opportunities; a benefactor donates a huge chunk of change and a building is named for him.

The good news jumps across the page, millions are no longer necessary. A one hundred thousand dollar donation will get your name on something …a toilet. I continue to read looking for the punch line. It is not a joke.

The article by Josh Sanburn states, “It’s a strategy more universities are employing to raise cash in this strapped economy.”  And cites the University of Pennsylvania as an example. “Plaques saying, ‘This relief you are now experiencing is made possible by a gift from Michael Zinman’, line its bathroom walls.”

Naming toilets is deemed a win-win situation, grab extra tissue to laugh while you pee.

Sanburn explains the benefits to the benefactor, it is affordable, and for the university; necessary because “state government funding dropped nearly 8% last year nationwide”.

The genius who thought of this probably sold the Brooklyn Bridge, too. It gets better.

A recent NPR interview discusses the role of merit scholarships in raising college costs.

A merit scholarship is not awarded for brains or talent. Robert Massa, a vice president at Lafayette says. “The primary reason for awarding a non-need-based merit scholarship is to change a student’s enrollment decision from another institution to our institution. That’s why colleges do it.”

The toilet naming opportunity is not mentioned specifically, however, I speculate NPR will be interviewing Michael Zinman, his name appears on a throne.

Merit scholarships are getting bigger as each college competes for the best students.

Confused? Relax, you do not have to pay to pee at Harvard or Lafayette, yet. Peeing is still free.

Massa continues, “On top of that, the school gives need-based grants to many students. A majority of students get grants of some kind — fewer than 50 percent actually pay the full sticker price.”

The tuition increases.

Colleges pay students more than they need to come to their college and off set the cost by having  students who can pay more.

Now the need for naming toilets makes sense, it covers the difference.

Will people be impressed when you brag, Granddaddy has a bathroom named for him at Harvard Law School, or wonder, whatever?

                                                      …Just Saying

Mommy’s Jumping Jellybean

Posted on by

12

My daughter, Janine will turn forty on May 19 and hopefully this post captures how special she is to me. . . . just saying I love you, Mom

Aging & Attitude

   My daughter phoned a few weeks ago and after a good hour-long conversation told me, holding back tears, I was on her gratitude list. It was not Mother’s Day but it was the best Mother’s Day present ever.  I hung up the phone, and put a long list of ‘if only I had’ in the trash, to reminisce about my little girl.

She was not a fussy infant and slept through the night at six weeks, never cried or climbed out of her crib, and woke with a cheery “Morning.”  By the third call, I would have her in my arms. Asked if she would give baby Donna her bottle, Janine said yes and drank from a cup. She potty trained easily wanting to wear big girl pants like Christie.

Most days, after playing in the park we lingered on the stoop outside to wait for Daddy. At two and a half years old, Janine would climb the brick steps, teeter across a cement ledge and jump to the ground holding my hands. She was long and lean, like a green bean, and called Beaner  Her incessant jumping gave birth to the rhyme, J is for Janine, Mommy’s jumping jellybean.  I struggled to match  my daughter’s  energy and enthusiasm.

The summer of 1980 we traveled to Chicago, by sleeper train, to visit Aunt Judy and Uncle George.  Independent Janine maneuvered the way from our cabin to the dining car, bouncing side to side. You could not hold her hand. The dining tables wore white linen table cloths, and the wine served in a stemmed glass.

I have a vivid picture of Janine sitting in a Winnetka ice cream parlor, her chin even with the table, ready to place her order, a chocolate cone. Uncle George, who was treating, suggested a dish of ice cream might be safer. Determined, she stately sweetly, “I want a cone,” to Uncle George’s continued feeble attempts to persuade her other wise. There was no terrible two-temper tantrum only the pointing of her pinky and index finger like devil horns saying, repeatedly, “I want a cone.” Uncle George did not comment after her pretty dress was covered in chocolate.

The first day of  kindergarten she wore a sucker of a rhinestone pin given to her by Great Granny B for dress up, and left the house saying; “Mom, I’m going to be the prettiest girl in the class.” My response, “Yes, you will.”

Early on, she wanted to know if you went to college to be a cocktail waitress, to which her father and I had no reply, amazed at her insight that attending college and waitressing somehow went together.

These days, Janine is miles away, and missed. People notice her kindness, generosity, quiet determination, and independence. She pounds the streets of New York City and a chorus joins me in cheering, J is for Janine, Mommy’s jumping jellybean.

Thank you daughter, for loving me.

                                                                                          …. Just saying

00000063

00000078

00000085

Ha Ha Baby Boomers

Posted on by

20

Aging & Attitude

Statistics show that as you age you laugh less. The elderly lose their sense of humor, no Shit Sherlock! What is there to laugh about?  We cannot see, cannot hear, and cannot remember.

A recent News Journal article informs us of the latest national disaster, sarcopinia, the wasting away of the elderly. Who needs a new word we cannot pronounce, and reminds us of things, we do not want to remember.  It is no surprise, the elderly feel depressed, and lose humor.

I heard that if you cannot get out of the car or off a chair, it is from muscle atrophy. So I started going to the gym, now have muscles and can get out of the car, couch or chair easily.  I just cannot straighten up once I am standing. I am stiff and cannot unbend.  I have termed the condition de-stiff-i-tiz-ing. It is not an official medical condition but most Baby Boomers suffer with it.

We were out to dinner, a table of ten, dear friends who shall remain nameless. After paying the bill, everyone stood to leave and a uniform moan ricocheted off the restaurant walls. A few of us were quick to laugh, covering the additional groans people spewed as they hung to the back of chairs, shook legs awake, and de-stiff-i-tized to reclaimed stature. There was no giggling.

Men actually laugh less and stop laughing sooner than woman, around fifty. (Mr. Wonderful sports a Grumpy tattoo, gotten on his fiftieth birthday.) That statistic may change once the numbers are in on Viagra, although after four hours a man could permanently lose all ability to chuckle.

The humiliation does not end.  A woman attending a wedding went outside to smoke, after extinguishing the cigarette with her foot, bent over to pick up the butt and toppled in her kitty cat heels. Fortunately, her dress did not blow over her head and no one was around.

This never happened to grandma. She could smoke indoors, did not worry about green and thought gym was a man’s name.

So here are my tips for Baby Boomers. (Will someone think of a better term, PLEASE)

  • Replace old toilets with new Hi-Boy’s(the taller  ones).
  • Park in the same spot at the mall everytime.
  • Write down the make, year, and plate number of both cars you own and keep the information in your wallet. (Forgetting where you parked is one thing, forgetting what you parked is another.)
  • Stop telling people you do not remember their name.  They do not remember yours either.
  • Do not smoke when wearing high heels.                                                                                             
                           …. Just saying

Betty Blasé and New Horizons

Posted on by

8

Aging & Attitude

“I’ve become blasé,” said a woman at the New Horizons Brunch for new members, ending our conversation that threatened to become passionate. She smiled, and took a step back to distance herself from me. She wore ‘big-girl’ shoes with a large fake rhinestone separating her first two toes.

“Blasé what a wonderful word,” I respond, but fail to keep her engaged. The crowded breakfast nook engulfs her lack of interest. Soft wrinkles languish her face, her tone aloof as she snaps her neck to suggest she was not always apathetic, it is an acquired skill.

She wears it well like a sophisticated article of clothing, dance attire.  I want to be blasé. Blasé could be  equivalent to Botox or Juvederm injections and cheaper.  Her skin glows.

My mind escapes to a fantasy world and I morph into Betty Blasé, a new and improved self.  When motorists drive in my trunk during the day, I flip the rearview mirror to ‘night-vision’, instead of yelling, “wrap yourself around a tree, see if I care,” and as they speed by, adjust the air conditioning, calmly.

I feel in control of my emotions and straighten my back to stand a little taller. The room is decorated in damask lined drapes hung high upon the wall and sparkling glass tables.

Surely, I can learn indifference when the Bagger in Publix double wraps my chicken in plastic after I hand him cloth and painstakingly explained the chicken gets naked next to my eggs and butter at home in our refrigerator.

Several New Horizon members drift towards the front door ready to leave.  I promise myself the next time a group of kids covered with tattoos and reeking of profanity pass by I will NOT mumble, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

I exchange goodbyes with the host and mosey towards my car thinking, it is conceivable to yawn at newspaper stories debating those guilty of pet abuse; Obama, who ate dog or Romney, who transported Seamus, a pet, crated on a car roof.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Just Saying