It not everyday that you begin to question how you look. Recently I started to do this. Mostly I feel I look pretty good for a 47 year young woman, but the other day something happened that made me think that perhaps the upcoming eye surgery can’t happen soon enough.
Hubby and I had gone to our favorite Chinese Buffet. The place was not particularly crowded and we got a good table with a very friendly waitress. We ate and had a great time, and while Hubby was getting his dessert I decided to be a sweet wife and pick up the check.
I got out my credit card and the waitress came over.
“Oh, I have a coupon too!” I said.
“No need.” she said, “I gave you both the senior citizens rate.”
I sat there dumbfounded. Was she just being nice, or do I really look over 65? I looked at my hands, vanity prevented me from whipping out my pocket mirror and checking out my face. I felt a lump in my throat. 65! Why, that’s not going to happen for 18 years right?
18 years. Why, why that just around the corner! Suddenly all the gray hairs I work so hard to cover, and those crows feet around my eyes and the aches ad pains I feel each morning when I get up, they were all telling me, “You Are Old!”
I smiled weakly at the waitress when she brought back my check. Hubby returned from the dessert bar and I told him what had occurred. He laughed at me and smiled.
“It’s just the company you keep.” he reminded me.
Well, I’m not sure I believe him, but just in case I am starting to look old, I have ordered a case of Oil of Olay and made an appointment with my hairdresser for a dye job.
It was one of those days where the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the dogs were frolicking in the back yard and life was good. That was until I tried to carry 2 glasses of orange juice, our silverware and leberwurst into the family room as I was preparing breakfast. Suddenly the juice was in the air, and then on me and on the floor and my perfect day, which had started a mere hour before was shot.
Now I was philosophical enough to know that this wasn’t the end of the world. Into every life a little orange juice must fall, right? So I said, “Oh jeeze, look what I just did!” Then I set about mopping up the floor. No simple job when you’re mopping up orange juice due to the high sugar content. One must mop well or have sticky feet.
Okay. I finished with that and actually got to eat my breakfast and finish my coffee before I started the days work. Nothing dramatic, just some laundry and bed making, and since today I wasn’t stressed I thought I would take some recently purchased music and download that onto a CD. Well, guess what? Good old Itunes had changed their format again and I can’t convert the files. Now I don’t mind buying a song for 99¢, but I really hate buying the song and then not being able to use it on my own CD player! Back in the old days I would buy a 45 record for 45¢ and then I owned that record, unless of course my sister or brother “borrowed” it from me. Tell me, you more savvy computer musical wonders, how the heck can I unlock these tunes so I can play them on my car CD player? My car’s player does not do MP4. And I’ll be darned if I’m going to go out and buy an Ipod. It’s wrong to be forced to do that so I can listen to an old recording of the Monkees sing “Daydream Believer” in the privacy of my own car!
By my third hour on this problem, my blood pressure was up and I was ready to chew on nails!
What had happened to the bright and beautiful day?
I put the problem away. I sat down with a cup of tea and tried to relax. But it’s right there. Even now. Picking at my brain, torturing me, driving me insane. When will it end?
I sure hope I can sleep, and if I do, I pray I do not dream of Ipods dancing through my head!
I woke up to 80° temperatures with 70 % humidity and that was at 6:30 this morning. What is wrong with this picture? I live in the mountains of New Hampshire where it’s supposed to stay cool! HA!********************
Do you know what happens when a woman of a certain age steps outside to, say walk her dogs, in this heat? Hot Flashes. Or what I like to call rolling hot flashes! One after another, after another, after another!
We lived down in Florida for a while. Down in Punta Gorda, where Hurricane Charley decided to come ashore and sort of explode the town. We were there for 6 years. I loved my house, I loved the people, I loved the church that we went to and I loved singing in the choir. What I hated was the heat and humidity. Just going out to get the news paper would find me soaking my robe. I lived in sleeveless tops and shorts and went from my air conditioned house to my air conditioned car, to the air conditioned store. But somehow in the 5 seconds it took to go from place to place, I would soak my clothes.
Gold Bond powder and Deep Woods Off became my after bath ritual. Ah yes, the smell of insecticide in the morning!
After 6 years we moved home to New Hampshire. I kept asking myself why I’d ever left. I guess the answer is, the grass is always greener…
I’ve been happy to be home. Cold winters, warm springs, pleasant summers and deliciously cool Autumns! Yes, you can take the girl out of New England, but you can’t take the New England out of the girl.
So I find this tropical oven we are living in here in New Hampshire, right now, to be pretty disturbing!
On a brighter note, upon checking my garden this morning I found two more “Incredible Hulk Cucumbers”, so another batch of Mustard Pickles is in the works!
You want to know what happens when a little dachshund named Greta goes running through the tall grass in the field behind our house?
The dachshund in question is quickly grabbed and then given a bath with special shampoo, right out there on the lawn. Once she is done, I race in and jump in the shower and wash myself with brown soap and hot water.
Why do I do this?
Because I am incredibly allergic to poison ivy and my neighbor’s field is just loaded with the stuff this year, and when Greta gets the oils on her fur and then rubs up against me this is what happens:
I can’t recall being this allergic to poison ivy before. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t usually go walking through overgrown fields, or if perhaps as I have gotten older I have become more allergic?
I think the best answer here is that I have a sneaky dog who loves to take off and run through the poison ivy and then come back and lcuddle with me! Gotta love that dog!
Now we’re all clean, and no one is going outside again unless they’re on a leash!
A few bloggers I know do a Wordless Wednesday Meme each week. I knew that this wasn’t one for me. Since the day I was born I haven’t been wordless. In fact, my parents considered naming me Chatty Kathy.
All through my childhood, I was one of those kids who just talked. I drove my sister crazy. We would be lying in bed at night and I would start talking and asking her questions and I would go on and on and on. She would kindly tell me, “Good Night”, and I’d reply, “Good Night”, only to go right back to chatting all over again.
As the years passed I moved in with my Grandparents. I would sit and talk to my Grandmother for hours. I would tell her about school, about my day and go on and on.
She once told me, after I had married and left home, that the worst part of my moving out was the silence. The one and only time anyone has said this to me.
A few years ago a friend of Hubby’s’ was driving me across Florida to meet Hubby at another airport. We were driving along and I was doing my usual chatting, hardly taking a breath. Finally he interrupted me and said, “I bet you can’t shut up for 10 minutes”.
Ten minutes? Not a problem. We started the clock. One second, two seconds, three seconds…It was the longest ten minutes of my life! I did, however, make it, although I felt slightly queasy afterwards.
I don’t think I talk as much as I once did. At least I try not to.
Hubby is now laughing hysterically.
Well I am trying!
I had my day all planned. I stripped my bed down to the mattress pad, brought all the stuff to the basement laundry room to wash, and came back upstairs and vacuumed. I pulled out the bucket and mop and started to wash the huge kitchen floor. (I’m talking, really huge!) I was sweating (remember I hate to do that), when Hubby walks in and says that I need to “cultivate the garden”.
Cultivate is another word for back breaking, sweat producing, weeding! So I finished up the floor and put on some junkie shorts and a tank top, and went out to kill myself in the garden. What a pain in the lower back! I got it done, came in changed the laundry and once I finish this I will shower, dress and go out and pick up the mail. Then I need to come back and do about 5 more loads of laundry, as well as two more meals before I can go to bed. Truth be told, I could go to bed now and not feel bad. Of course everyone else would think I was totally insane!
So my day of floor washing and laundry, was interrupted by the garden, but now that it’s done I can, at least sit down in between loads of laundry.
Oh yes! The excitement never ends!
Thirteen Reasons Boston Driving Is Not For A Country Mouse Like Me
1. Since they are still working on “The Big Dig” everything is a mess.
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
2. The signs telling you which exit to take get you in one lane and then end, not giving you enough time to actually get over to your exit.
3. Signs that just do not make sense! I wanted to scream!
4. No one actually seems to know where they are going.
5. The pot holes are literally the pits!
6. Double parking. Bad!
7. There was a policeman who followed us all over the city and I swear to God, was as lost as we were!
8. People cut you off and I wondered, do they care about their car?
9. People just walked in front of your car. (while it’s moving!)
10. Traffic going from zero to 70 mph and back to zero in the blink of an eye!
11. Street signs that are either nonexistent or really small.
12. Previously open roads, are now closed due to the “Big Dig” construction.
13. Narrow lanes due to construction. I just knew we were going to be side-swiped!
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Give me a list and I do just fine. In fact, better than fine. I can accomplish great things. Yesterday Dr. W.’s secretary gave me a list of things I would need to obtain before the surgery. At 9 AM this morning I proceeded to call the doctor who performed the original cataract surgery. I needed to obtain all my records from his office and have them faxed to Dr. W. Of course they needed me to fax them a letter of release. Within 10 minutes I had this done. Whatever did we do before fax machines? Used snail mail I guess.
The next item on my lift is a rather lengthy process of getting a first class physical with my favorite General Practitioner. However, I also need blood work and because of my advancing age, (cough, cough) I actually need an EKG! This is a first.
I arrived at my GP’s office and went up to his secretary’s window and she greeted me.
“Hi!” she said brightly.
“Hi, I’m Tricky!” I smiled and laughed.
“Well, hello Tricky how can I help you?”
She scheduled everything for me and actually had me back out the door in record time.
Then it was off for my monthly visit to the fountain of youth. After nearly 5 years of going to a hairdresser I liked personally, but kept messing up my hair, (you do all remember the ultra short cut back in February?) I have left her and found a new woman. She is a very talented person and I like her work. Still it was hard to make the change.
These fountain of youth visits are taking longer and longer as I get older and older, but I still made it home before the storms arrived.
These were the kind of thunder storms that shake your house and get the dogs looking at you with those questioning eyes that say, “Is this the end of the world?”
The storms have passed now and the sun is setting and I can put my feet up and relax. My list is completed and all I have to do now is enjoy the summer.
The details will now take care of themselves.
It was bath day for my boys today. First up was my 73 pound Fritz. Although his white coat looked clean, it didn’t exactly smell “downy fresh”! So, I locked him in the bathroom with me and forced him into the shower. I always just jump in with him, naked, because no matter what I do, or how hard I try, I am always covered in white dog fur, so I might as well not add to my discomfort with a layer of sopping wet clothes.
We have had wrestling matches in the past and today I was prepared for the worst. However, Fritz surprised me, and was such a good boy, I nearly fainted with the shock of it. The bath went so quickly, that we were done before I knew it.
Of course, I had to wash every piece of cloth in the bathroom. The rugs, the other towels, etc. all had to be laundered as they were soaked and covered with white fur, and since the floor was half wet anyway, I grabbed the bucket and mop and washed that as well.
Time for boy #2. Hubby! I wish I could say that we were the delightful young marrieds that we once were and that our shower was full of fun and frolicking, but let’s face it, he’s just had his second knee replacement, and I’d just gotten done washing a big dog. It wasn’t so much frolicking as it was wash and rest.
How do you know when you’ve been married 18 years? When you shower together and the only thing you think about is actually getting clean!
Am I disappointed by my lack of action in the tub? Not really, giving a bath is more exhausting than being an active participant.
Can someone pass the soap?