Journey of Self Discovery

I was struck by a desire to write a new post for this blog. Maybe "need" would be a better word. I quit writing here to devote my time to a site that actually makes me money, but this was my first blog, and it’s the one I will never abandon.  It means everything to me because it gave me purpose when I needed it most!

I also can’t abandon the ones who come here to find a way through their own

excursion at turning 50. Do I have all the answers? No. But I do have experience at this whole ‘getting passed this landmark Birthday’.

If you sailed right past the big five-oh with barely a blink of the eye, go read someone else. But before you leave I want to ask you to make me a promise. If you have a friend who ISN’T able to enter their 50’s with rainbows coming out their butt, don’t poo-poo their pain. Don’t brush their tears off your shoulder when they come to you for help. This also goes out to the ones who are older and younger than 50. BE A FRIEND! At the very least keep your mouth shut and just give them a hug! Is that too much to ask?

Now that the happy people have moved on to read something else, we can get down to business. I will admit some that you will read in my blog is just my babbling about this and that, but it does all boil down to a few things I discovered and want to pass on to you:

• Cry if you need to. You have entered a sad moment. You need to mourn your lost youth. Trust me, it helps to get all that pain out. So cry, throw a tantrum, just whatever you need to do to get it out. Holding it in can cause illness, and that’s the last thing we need! If it embarrasses you, find somewhere private, or go to a gym and punch one of those bags boxers use. Better yet get in the ring and take a few punches at an actual person! They’re paid to get punched! Yea! I wish I had done that! I really wanted to punch someone when I turned 50. Wish I had thought of that then!
• Comfort yourself. It doesn’t even need to be food, though that’s what I chose for the first week. Get a manicure or pedicure, get your hair cut, or buy yourself a pretty scarf. Treat yourself to anything that makes you feel happy or at least better.  
• I have become more vocal. I don’t have time for games. If something bothers me I say it bothers me. My boyfriend and son aren’t always happy with this, but I refuse to bottle it in and hurt my mind and body anymore! You don’t have to be mean about it, but you can’t believe how the weight on my shoulders has lessened! This one is also for your health and well being.
• Find something that brings you joy. For me it’s writing. It’s my bliss. Maybe I’ll never win national awards, but it soothes my soul and gives my brain a workout. So, discover your love! There’s no rush to find your bliss. You might even try different things before you find ‘It’. Once you do, though, be prepared that some people won’t ‘get it’. Brace yourself against those who will try to dissuade you. I know my boyfriend doesn’t get it. He can’t understand that I HAVE to write every single day! If I can’t write at least a little I feel jumpy the whole day and am out-of-sorts, which is why it takes an emergency to keep me from my keyboard.

I guess that’s it for now. I wish you a wonderful journey of self discovery!

Gray Hairs and All

I once saw a coworker in the bathroom cussing at her reflection. She had black hair and she had a black marker in her hand. She was separating a strand or strands of gray hair, pulling it above her head and using the marker to color it black. I remember standing afraid to move as this usually happy woman cussed at her reflection. She turned to me with a look of frustration on her face and said: "The hair color won't stay in! I'm going to see if this marker will hide these monsters!" (she didn't really say 'monsters') I don't know if it worked long term, but I feel her frustration!

Gray hair is something we all have to deal with. When you hit your 50's it seems to appear in more numbers every time you look in the mirror. I color my hair, but it doesn't help for long because those dang gray hairs throw the color off a few weeks after the application. I have to say I'm lucky that I wasn't one of the people who went prematurely gray. I had a friend that started going white at 30, and it was that "Skunk Stripe" right down the middle. I didn't notice my first gray hair until my mid 30's and they started appearing in a place only my doctor and I could see. Later, I noticed a white eyelash! No grey on the head, but a big fat eyelash! It was followed by friends, and now you can barely see what was once naturally long pretty lashes and have become almost invisible. I did finally start seeing pop ups on the head, mostly at the temples and "sideburns". And my grays have a need to be noticed so they curl up tight and stick out away from the head like they are waving at every passersby. It makes me look like a crazy lady who never brushes her hair as they won't obey any hair care product I've tried.

While I do color my hair now I will quit someday. There is a time you need to let the hair win the fight and let it shine. My maternal grandmother never colored her hair, but her naturally black hair produced the pretty white hair instead of the yellow-gray some are unlucky to have. I don't know the age, but when you start resembling a clown it's time to quit coloring and applying your own make-up. I hope my friends will let me know when that is. It is my friend's job to tell me when I have something in my teeth, toilet paper stuck on my shoe, or my dress tucked into my pantyhose. THAT is a true friend! I want mine to put their arm around me and say, 'Honey, it's time to quit.' I promise to return the favor.

And it's not just hair!  I had these big beautiful eyes that I got compliments on when I was younger, but now the brow skin is slowly melting down trying to hide them. I also had pouty lips that I guess developed a leak since the pout is gone and all that is left are thin lips framed with small fine wrinkles. I'll say right here I am not against plastic surgery. I can't afford it today, but if I had a lot of extra money just laying around I would be at the plastic surgeon's office yesterday. But if I do get the chance someday I don't want those fake high cheekbones I've seen on some older women. They just don't look real. What I would do is have my brow skin pulled back up to show-off my eyes again and get some fat sucked out of my waddle and pulled tight. And my jowls removed since I'm there but that's all. Maybe a little plump in my lips to hide the tiny wrinkles (since they have my fat sitting in a jar right there). And maybe my boobs lifted off my belly. And a tummy suck and tuck. Hair removal would be a good idea. But no more! No cheekbones!

I'll tell you, though, that sometimes when I look into the mirror I can still see that the young me is still there looking back. It's not every time, but when it does I can smile at my reflection and see beauty reflect back. But I know it's there every time! I know my reflection hasn't changed. My attitude towards that reflection has! I'm working at it, I hope someday I'll see beauty every time.




It's what I want to learn:

Acceptance.

Dreams

I had a dream the other night. I was sitting in the back of a car in the middle between my boyfriend and my college sweetheart. There was no jealousy or discomfort at the arrangement. Everyone was getting along just fine as we went down the road to I don't know where. The car was driven by one of my female cousins with her husband in the front passenger seat. I am not in daily or even yearly contact with her, though I did recently visit her mother, my Aunt, to say hello.

I wondered what the dream was telling me. I used to keep a dream journal years ago, but have since misplaced it as well as the interpretation book. I do believe there is no one book that covers dream interpretation for everyone. Like if a person dreams of an apple: To a minister or someone who is very religious, it would probably stand for temptation, while a person who owns an orchard would see the apple as money. I did have a book I bought on dream interpretation, but I went through it and any meaning that didn't fit me was covered in white-out and my own idea of what I felt it meant was put in it's place. By doing this ahead of time I was giving my mind the codes to follow in talking to me in my dreams. It was a long process, but at the time worth it.

I had been mulling over the dream for several days, and last night as I was drifting off to sleep the meaning popped in my head:

1. The car represents the physical world and body, which is 'driven' by my DNA (I.E. my cousin driving the car). That comes from the fact that I have been studying my DNA results pretty much on a daily basis. This says we aren't 'in control' (driving) what happens to our bodies.We can't 'decide' not to be 50.
2. Sitting between my past and present boyfriends was me: Past me was young, carefree and only had to worry about passing tests and what bar or party to go to Friday and Saturday nights. (She was also a size six!) Present me is coming to terms with being in my 50's with a child and a committed relationship in tow. She has to deal with bills, what to fix for dinner almost EVERY SINGLE NIGHT (hate that), dishes (hate that too), or basically the daily life of an average, definitely not rich or even close to it 21st century woman. 
3. The fact that these two sides were getting along just fine and I was okay with being the middle of a big-boy sandwich tells me I'm FINALLY coming to terms with the "Big 5-0"!

And THAT is very good news!



What did I learn:

Maybe being in my 50's is okay! At least today.

Pets

Bear 2012

While I was locked out of my blog last fall my son's dog, Bear, died. He was 15 years old and had lost his hearing and site and was starting to have trouble getting to his feet. Being an outside dog (he'd cry if we brought him in) meant I had to go out if he barked and also on a set schedule to lead him to his water, make sure he ate something, and give him love so he would know he wasn't alone. He was a sweet dog who loved children, which is why Damien said he was his dog when he was just a toddler. (he was his dad's dog before) I think Damien was from Jersey in a past life, because he called him 'Bee-ah' back then.

It was a sad time, but I told him when he was ready we could find him a puppy. Time for children is different than for adults. Whenever I lost a pet I had to mourn for at least 6 months before I would even consider a new 'family member'. So, within a month we were into the hunt. I didn't want a pure breed. I wanted a pup who truly needed a home. Finally we found a listing on Craig's list. Someone had dumped a pregnant dog in the country about an hour away in Crane, Missouri and they had five pups needing homes. They said the mom looked like a basset-beagle mix and the dad was unknown. Done.

I had a beagle mix when I was Damien's age and she, Ginger, was the most awesome dog in the world to me. She would let me dress her in my clothes and walk her around the block. She was protective of us children, and slept beside my bed so I could hang my right arm off the bed and touch her when I was drifting off to sleep.

Comet

We drove down and he picked a little boy and soon named him Comet. While Bear was a calm laid-back dog, Comet is a burst of pure energy. He had ringworms when we got him and was covered in fleas and ticks, so to the vet we went for first shots, and worm medicine. The vet recommended jock itch cream for a topical for the ringworms.The vet took one look at him that first time he was at her office and said "His dad is defiantly Jack Russell." Then she laughed and said, "Jack Russell, Beagle and Bassett? You have some interesting times ahead!" and laughed again. Boy! She hit that on the head!

Later it was neutering and more shots. A few months later it was back to the vet for a skin yeast infection, and yet again for the yeast infection. Now, I bet you think I thought we had gotten a 'lemon'. But that little monster fits our family like a glove! We finally figured out he's allergic to dairy, and I was giving him the pills for his itching and yeast infection wrapped in cheese!! So finally no more rash!



Shady and Comet enjoying the snow

My dog Shady hated him for about 24 hours. He had been raised in a home full of senior citizen dogs, so it didn't take long for him to discover this little newbie wanted to play! From then on they were best buds. Running and tumbling inside and out. On the floor and on the bed (usually at bedtime). As a matter of fact Shady lost 5 pounds! He went from 52 lbs. to 47 lbs.. They even sleep side-by-side.



Comet has two speeds: Full-out and stop or sleep. No in between yet. Maybe when he's older, but what I've read about Jack Russell's... He has the Beagle 'Bay' when he sees a rabbit or squirrel. His nose is down on the ground as soon as he goes outside. Once I heard him really making a commotion. I went out and he had is head in the bushes. And then he'd jump back and bay. When I looked I found a snakeskin. About a four and a half to five foot snakeskin! I hope it's the blacksnake we saw once and not a new visitor!

But in the end I have to say he is loved by everyone in this house. Especially Shady.



What I already knew:

Spay and neuter people! And NEVER dump a dog or cat to fend for it's self or think someone will take it in. Comet's mom was very lucky! There are people who will shoot a stray. Just. Plain. Stupid.

P.S.

I Just read the above "Spay and neuter people!" I guess it should have been: "Spay and neuter, people" or "Spay and neuter your pets, people!" But sometimes I think, with some people, it should really be a call to "Spay and neuter people"!






Me (2.8%) Cavewoman

Recently I was perusing this group I joined at 23 and Me that talks about the fact that a lot of people have Neanderthal DNA. We don't know if it's good or bad, but we all agree it's pretty cool. It has become a bit of a status symbol for our little clique as to who has the most and is, thus, king caveman or queen cavewoman. I believe 4% is the highest found so far (haven't checked in a few days). I have 2.8% and my son has 3.1%. His dad is a paltry 2.7%. That in itself caused a stir and some talk in the group, that our son had more caveman than his parents. (He's ours. I checked and the DNA shows he wasn't switched at the hospital) It was decided that I had partial strands that added with some of Paul's partial strands and made a whole strand.

 

The group started with the question: 'Can we increase the amount of Neanderthal DNA in people and get a person who is 100% Neanderthal.' My son proves you can get more in the next generation, but it was by chance. Since Paul has less than me I wasn't attracted to his caveman musk. yuck!

 

You can even buy t-shirts that proudly show the amount of Neanderthal you have. It looked like you can buy one that 'proudly' shows down to .1%, which is sad to me, but the study shows Europeans have the highest, while it is absent in most people of African descent. Asians have a DNA 'cousin' of Neanderthal called Denisova.

Some of the people in the group are REALLY informed on the subject and know a LOT more than I do. Some of what they write is just 'blah, blah, blah' to my mushy brain. Sometimes I find myself wondering if they really know what they are saying or just copying what some scientist said, but either way it's above me, and that's just fine! I'm 51 now, and I would have to give up the words to songs or commercial jingles to make room for all that, and I like knowing the words to the Oscar Mayer jingle:

My baloney has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R. My baloney has a second name it's M-A-Y-E-R. Oh I love to eat it every day and if you ask me why I'll sayyyyyyyyy. 'Cause Oscar Mayer has a way with B-O-L-O-G-N-A!

Back In Black (Ink)

For quite a while I got locked out of my own blog! It had something to do with a change they made to the site and my inability to figure out what they did. I could only stare at what I had written but never add. Big bummer! I enjoyed writing to you. I never got to finish the list I was doing, but I found my way back to you now these many months later, so I will add new with time.

 

I poured out the three two liter bottles of water I had stored for Doomsday. We tore our garage and attached shed or lean-to down before it fell down. A lot of stuff got thrown away because it was ruined or trash. The whole area was a soggy mess with snow and rain and big trucks from the people who tore it down and the roofers who followed. It was SUCH a mess here! But we have a new roof and front porch and a new place to use my 30 year old metal detector. Paul found metal salt and pepper shakers that are shaped like pot belly stoves. Pretty cool! He also found a literal bucket full of rusty nails, most in one giant pile. I found a pile of those weights that make old windows go up and down. I also dug up an ice cream bucket of broken glass and I'm not done. People used to just dump trash I guess! The house was built in about 1915. Before all I had found with the metal detector was a 1976 half dollar, an 1888 penny and TONS of nails and some bottle caps. We decided to keep all the metal and take it in for cash. We might just make 1 dollar! Never know...


What I've learned:

How to get back into my blog, kind of. Actually I really don't know how I got locked out or even how I got back in!