The DMV

It was that dreadful time. The drivers license renewal. I had recently gotten new glasses and was confident about the eye test, but lordy have mercy I was NOT ready for the photograph! I want to know what evil monster is behind the invention of the camera that takes license photos! Maybe my new license is haunted and that's actually a snapshot of the ghost inside!

Driving home I said aloud to myself "If I just looked ten years younger I could live with this!" 

Once home I took a few quick selfies first thing and low and behold I did look at least ten years younger than the license photo! After breathing a sigh of relief I mumbled "did I just waste a secret wish on ten years? Should've said twenty."

I know I'm getting old. I get that. I also understand I'm not in a tax bracket to afford a facelift. I mean, if I was offered a free facelift if I got to the plastic surgeon's office in 20 minutes I wouldn't have to think about it for even a second. I would break traffic laws to get there! Until that happens I do what I can. Every morning and night I scrub my face and apply a good moisturizer. I also take a hyaluronic acid supplement daily to help retain moisture in my skin. 

I decided through this experience it was time to take a new photo to replace the over a decade old one I have been using in profiles. Some looked like I was constipated. Others had the "resting bitch face". After many tries I settled on the "has-been comedian" pose. It's not bad for 61 is it? It's heads above the DMV at least! 

Do I really have to remind you not to steal my face? Just in case, you do not have my permission to use my photo.

My new profile photo. I can honestly say it's better than the DMV's.

Stolen Thunder

A year ago I was invited to a wedding. While we were/still are in the Pandemic, the bride assured me there would be safeguards in place including having the ceremony outside and spacing the guest chairs. To say I was excited to BE GOING SOMEWHERE is an understatement. I was bonkers excited! I wanted to scream I was so happy! BHP and I even left a day early so we could visit his grandmother's grave and shower it with flowers. He hadn't been to visit since he was a teen so I was more than happy to go. Yeah, this part is off topic, but grave visits are important in my opinion.

Anyway it was an amazing wedding! It incorporated a nod to their shared Scottish heritage and I was blown away by her dress! BHP probably had a bruised shoulder from the number of times I banged on it through the updates leading up to and the wedding itself. They're! Taking! A! Train! To! Chicago! For the honeymoon! I want to take a train anywhere some day. It just seems so romantic to a person who lives somewhere passenger trains never come.

I need to get to the point of this post!

When our (20 yo) son was first out of high school he was gung-ho to start an algae farm. He recently dropped the idea because his research showed it wasn't as big of a moneymaking idea as he was first led to believe. I was so proud of him for researching! But at the wedding reception when the mother of the bride asked me how the son was, I started talking about the farm what was then still a future possibility. She stopped me and said "oh, yea, *insert relative's name* told us." I was taken aback why this person who has several children of their own not to mention something like 18-75 grandchildren AND 7-559 great grandkids and who HAD to have some damn news they could have talked about instead from at least one or two had to steal my thunder about my ONLY CHILD. I guarantee the relative rolled their eyes and laughed when they told her. I vowed right then to never tell them anything else ever again!

But... I started thinking... "hum...will that bring me joy?" I mean, I'm not going to go out of my way, but I made a point last time they called of mentioning the 6' tall, freezer on the bottom, refrigerator the son bought us for no reason other than he had a vendetta against the old one. Something fell off the top, broke the plate he was carrying which cut his hand so it was on! I figure that pissed them off. Maybe enough to glare at their own brood and possibly enough not to share it with the whole family tree because it's something good. Time will tell by someone else mentioning it to me as they're the only one I told as a test. Will I make stuff up and see how far it travels through the family? Tempting but no. I have enough trouble remembering real events. I don't want to have to remember fake bs.

Seriously though, he's really a great kid- or young man really. A few years back he said he's not cutting his hair until the world is a better place. Of course it's beautiful!      

 

Shut Up Imaginary Woman!

I woke after a solid 6 hours of sleep this morning. I hadn't been sleeping well, so I was happy to know I'd be starting this Friday more rested than I had been. From there the morning went downhill. Yay.

On the way to pick up BHP and our son from work (they both work 3rd shift) I decided I didn't like the truck in front of me. They were going the speed limit and weren't driving in any way erratically, but the unknown driver was getting on my nerves for existing within my field of vision. Lucky for me there were two lanes, so by switching I was able to change scenery to a little car that wasn't annoying and on I drove.

The boy immediately irritated me by getting in the car and saying "hello", and his dad I think tried to be funny in the grocery store that to my ears sounded like a personal attack. The freshly made old-fashioned style donut BHP bought me at our favorite donut shop was a smart move on his part. All the sweet glaze on a deepfried circle of dough gave him and our son a few moments of reprieve. It was unfortunately a fleeting moment in a sea of storm whipped emotion.

After my passengers finally decided to shut the hell up and let me sulk in quiet, this stupid voice in my head started telling me how grateful I should be to not be alone and to suck it up! Let me tell you I told that imaginary woman off and where she could shove her advice! The nerve of her!

My joints ached and I just wanted to be alone with a mug of coffee or tea somewhere. I don't get waking time by myself much, and this morning I really wanted some while knowing full well it wouldn't happen. I mean, sure, BHP and son go to bed in the late mornings, but they're still in the house. At that moment the circumference of my bubble had expanded to include said house, so they were invading my personal space.

I tried to sit on the porch with our pointer/hound mix. The neighbor across the street almost immediately walked out of his house and began to use his leaf blower. Come on! Really?! 

I know this mood will pass and I'll feel "normal" later. My guess is it's tied to that lovely, lovely menopause which I'm still waiting to go away. The night sweats thankfully ended and I'm grateful for that, and I would have to say the Linda Blair level mood swings have been limited to just a few with this one being the worst in my opinion. 

Maybe a nap? I don't know, but it sounds like a plan.

My porch companion, Emrys. He barked at Mr. Leaf Blower. It was just a single "borf" but he got his point across. I told him he was a good boi. 

Do not copy. He's our good boi not yours.

Cliques

I graduated high school in 1980. It would be five years before The Breakfast Club would premiere in theaters showing how five kids from different cliques would discover they had more in common than any of them knew. I've seen it many, many times over the years, but in high school did not live it. Cliques I mean. I wasn't popular, but I also wasn't hated or shunned by fellow students and felt no animosity towards them. Other students would say hello to me in the halls, and while I wasn't invited to any cool parties, I was more apt to hang with a few close friends or at my brother and sister-in-law's house. I was once told it was because my family had been in the area since the late 1800's so I got a pass as being "local". I have no idea how to verify this as true or false, so I don't know where to add to or link it in my imaginary storyboard or where to run the red yarn from the pushpins.

I did experience "rejections" later in life though.

When my son was in preschool a few of the younger mothers had a odd little clique and one mom especially would quite hatefully make sure I knew I wasn't invited to join their circle. I found it amusing that these young women were, I assumed from the dozen times I had watched The Breakfast Club at this point (see how I tied that together?), trying to relive a high school experience they had had or missed out on. Like being the "cool moms" maybe?

I became a mom at 40, so was at such a different place in my life than them. I graduated college with a BA in Communications, burned through millions if not billions of brain cells in my 20's and 30's, and I may have mentioned I met fricking WOLF MAN JACK! 

One thing I wonder about is if I'm going to run into cliques as I age. I don't plan to move to a retirement home, I don't plan to move anywhere, but I also know most things that will happen in my "golden years" won't be planned or even possibly wanted. Is it a common worry or a common experience? I have no clue but I assume any time you put a group of people together, like the preschool mom's I mentioned, there will almost always be "those types" who will want to be seen as better than everyone else.

“With age comes wisdom, but sometimes age comes alone."

                               -Oscar Wilde

This is me getting ready to graduate high school and conquer the world.

Reflection

Yesterday morning we had some grocery shopping to do. I was in the frozen section and caught my reflection in the glass door and it made me sad. Some days I forget I'm as old as I am for a moment and then I see myself. That whole "growing old gracefully" is BS. 

It's normal to feel down sometimes. We're allowed to have our moments of grief, sadness, anger, or whatever you're feeling in any given moment. Just don't stay in that darkness. You deserve better than that! It's also okay to tell someone who quips 'it's better than the alternative' to fuck all the way off. I hate those people.

Where Are They Now?

Have you ever been sitting doing nothing much and suddenly thought "Huh. I wonder what such-and-who is doing?" In this age of the internet you can do a search and possibly find out. Many times the choices involve obituaries as you get older. Sometimes you're not surprised and other times it can be sad knowledge that darkens the rest of your day. Of course you may find them on Facebook or other locations and you get to see a familiar face smile back though now older.

I've been looking for one childhood friend every-so-often for several years. I don't know if I would contact her if I found her, but I would love to see her smile.

John Farnham

I've been keeping up on John Farnham's surgery. He was Little River Band's lead singer from 1982-86. If you haven't heard he had a marathon 11 1/2 hour surgery on 8/23 to remove a cancerous tumor from his mouth and jaw reconstruction as they had to remove part of his jaw. Today the hospital reports he's awake and in stable condition. 

I just wanted to send healing energy and hope for a speedy recovery. 💚

Reminiscing

I took this picture several years ago. Notice the chunk out of it's wing, yet it still flew away.

Someone may wonder about how my "Going Fangirl" post helps with getting older? Beats me! I mean, this blog is just the ramblings from a "mature woman".

Although... I have noticed my thoughts turning backwards more than it did when I was younger. I even gave it a Google and now I have "Reminiscing" by the Little River Band stuck in my head. Granted, it's a good song and does kinda fit this subject.

It's perfectly fine to think of the past. It's your choices of thoughts that matters. To throw yourself a pity-party and roll around in bitter thought-mud doesn't help unless it also includes remembering how you handled it to have a positive outcome. Not just "I survived" but steps you took then that can help you improve your now. If all you're doing is wallowing in the muck then please try to stop the self torture. It can effect your mental and physical health in the now. I found out anger can increase inflammation, which is associated with illnesses like heart disease, arthritis and cancer, though mostly in those 80 and older. That's from The American Psychological Association.

On the flip side, stop with the "my childhood was perfect because I drank out of a hose and you younger hooligans suck" posts and attitude! What was perfect was not having bills to worry about because you were a KID, having a young body that didn't creak, pop, and hurt all the time, and not having to fix your own and everyone elses meals (which is a personal gripe of mine. My son will roll his eyes when I go off on a rant of how when I was in my twenties I'd eat a can of green beans for dinner and it wasn't necessary to cook full blown meals and WHY DO Y'ALL NEED TO EAT EVERY DAY! Go graze in the kitchen your own damn self! Honestly he's good at that... Oops  Off topic.) But do you honestly think your parents saw your "good ole' days" as their good ole' days? Of course not! 

Thinking back on happy memories, I feel and science agrees, can naturally boost Dopamine and Serotonin. Just don't mentally move there. Like a TV show you return to the present afterwards.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? Isn't this similar? I mean the death part is decades away knock-on-wood, but we begin to ask ourselves "did my life matter in the big scheme of things? Did I make a difference in other's lives? Was I a good person?" Just because we didn't cure cancer doesn't mean our existence wasn't important. 

What did I learn?

I had just enough in my Amazon gift card balance to get Little River Band's Greatest Hits! Yeah!

But seriously, I can check a lot of these boxes of what not to do. I've "won" arguments with a brilliant comeback against someone who's been dead for a decade or more. There are times when anger is needed. Like letting someone irl know you're angry instead of holding it in, or if that anger leads to activism, but to look backwards and be angry at things you can't change can be harmful. One of the good things that has come from the Pandemic is that you can seek help right on your phone. I'm not going to recommend any specific place, but there is NOTHING WRONG with saying "I need help", okay? Okay!

Going Fangirl

I took this picture at a motel I used to work at. Originally I captioned it "If he doesn't stop staring at me I'm gonna cut him"

I've met a few famous individuals in my life. IMO these are the highlights:

I met and got a photo with Mr. Greenjeans and the puppet Mr. Moose from Captain Kangaroo when I was 7-8 years old. The photo is nowhere to be found now.

This one is wild! When I was 13 these two guys performed at my Junior High. I got their autographs and later discovered one of them became my coworker at the ABC affiliate in Springfield, MO 12ish years later. Wayne Milnes would play Sammy B. Goode and I would be his Audio Technician. He was a busy man through his life and worked all over Branson, MO including Silver Dollar City where we also crossed paths when I was 15 when he played skits as the judge. I had a photo but lost that one in the memento box crime I'll talk about in a bit. He was an incredibly talented man and a great guy may he rest in peace.

While at the same TV station (KSPR) I got to put a microphone on John Goodman and lightly chat with him. He was in town for a telethon. The best part is this put me 2 degrees from Kevin Bacon in the game Six Degrees from Kevin Bacon! They've been in 5 movies together.

Now, at this point I've led you to my "fan girl" moment. After KSPR-TV, I went back to radio. This would have been around 1990. The station, KLTQ (Q-96) FM sponsored a concert with singers/bands from the 60's and 70's. The MC was Wolfman Jack from movies (does American Graffiti ring a bell?) and for me most importantly the late night TV show "The Midnight Special" that was broadcast through my teen years. The GM of the station asked me if I wanted to meet him. I said sure, and the moment I saw him just sitting in a chair relaxing before the show this SQUEAL rose out of my throat and I started shaking. WOLFMAN JACK WAS RIGHT THERE! WOLFMAN JACK! RIGHT THERE! SITTING IN A CHAIR AND NOW LOOKING SLIGHTLY ALARMED... I tried to calm down and asked him to sign the T-shirt in my hands which he did. But the BAD part is every time I've mentioned this no one seems to understand. Actually I was a bit surprised at my reaction but I'm not the least bit ashamed at going total fan girl. It was Wolf-freaking-man-OMG-JACK! The bad part is I didn't get a photo of us together to lose later. Damn it! But cheer up! I did lose the T-shirt. Actually it was stolen out of a U-Haul when I was packing to move by myself across town. The whole box of demo tapes, mementos that included my autograph book from Junior High, my picture of Wayne as the judge at SDC, and my music cassette collection swiped out of the back. People suck, except Wolfman Jack. Howl for the Wolfman!

Funeral Playlist

About a year ago I heard a beautiful song on a local LP (low power) blues/jazz radio station. It was a song by Anthony Gomes titled "Darkest Before the Dawn". I highly recommend listening. It's absolutely beautiful! But I bring this up because I had a thought I had never had in my life before as the music washed over my soul:

"I want this played at my funeral". 

Such a weird thing to think yet there it was. I'm healthy, no physical problems to worry me, and beyond an occasional fleeting idea of maybe I should decide where I want to be buried (though definitely cremation as I'm claustrophobic) I really haven't planned anything.

I called my best friend and asked her if this had ever happened to her. She got very animated and began telling me about her "funeral playlist" that she had had for years. Then she rattled off the top ten songs. You have to understand she has never shied away from the subject of death. She has worked in nursing homes and funeral homes at different points in her life. She would volunteer to sit with people at the nursing home in their last hours so they wouldn't be alone in the end. She has told me it's a peaceful experience. She's also a very organized person. She has her plot bought and has had it paid for since her 30's.

Then there's me who has one song and the idea of cremation. Am I supposed to be on this thing? Should I have this wrapped up with a bow by now? My parents did. My brother has already asked me if I minded he take the last space at our paternal family plot in our home town. Of course I said yes and he put his marker in place. 

I mean, of course I've had fleeting thoughts through the years. For a time I wanted to have an extended vacation after death at a Body Farm. I discovered the list of future volunteers is longer than needed. I'm also an organ donor and if by chance parts of me can go on to help others I would be turned down for not only a Body Farm but it would make me useless for a medical school as well. That makes it hard to go that route.

I have thought of a few things in moments of entertainment. I don't want a preacher acting like he knows me or even in attendance. No church music, and especially they better not play Green Green Grass of Home which seems to be a go-to at every damn funeral in my family. Ick. I would like an actor from the local theater to act like a preacher-of-sorts. I would love to have someone do their version of Jim Ignatowski (actor Christopher Lloyd) from the comedy series Taxi. Just a brainfried rambling monologue would be wonderful, but no one other than BHP and our son could know it's a performance. I don't see it really happening, but my funeral would be talked about for YEARS! lol

I don't like the whole funeral thing to tell you the truth. It's expensive and my family would have to put up with extended family who suddenly show up. I think I'd rather my ashes be added to compost and used to grow a tree in a national forest or wherever. Then I can haunt hikers. Maybe even become an Urban Legend. The Bitchy Ghost of the (insert name of forest). 

Touché

Two days ago I opened my email and saw one from a newspaper 2,000 miles from me! I got a bit hot and yelled "Why am I getting this!?" I opened it to unsubscribe, and immediately saw a recipe for Spiced Peach Pie. 

My grandma made delicious spiced peaches! She canned them, and the heady taste of cinnamon and clove in a sweet-pickled syrup was pure ambrosia!

Nodding, I said (yes aloud, because I talk to emails too) "Well played newspaper from across the country, well played." and didn't unsubscribe. They won this round. Touché.

Unless that Spiced Peach Pie sucks. 

The photo is my own. I bought a case of "canning peaches" prepandemic. They weren't pretty, but they made a great ice cream topper/peach cobbler filling I froze for the then future. I didn't inherit the canning gene, but our small deep freezer is very handy. 

Why? Chicken Thigh!

Speaking of thighs, mine disappeared. No abracadabra needed. Just one day I glanced in the mirror and I noticed I had bird legs! Now, I was one of those people who made swooshing noises if I dared to wear corduroy back when it was in style. Now I'd have no swooshing. If it were in style. But thankfully it's not and don't you DARE say it's acceptable! Because LA-LA-LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU! Just ick.

I've read it's "normal" to lose muscle and fat in your arms and legs as you age. It's also essential to eat, for women, 46 grams of protein a day. The problem is as I've aged I don't want meat, or as much as I did. If I can eat half the portion on my plate I'm doing good, but taking in the size of American portions it's actually pretty close to the needed amount? Maybe? I don't know. I'm new to this at the moment. Remember I've mentioned in the past to NEVER take my advice. Just don't.

Good news is my calves still look pretty good. They're smaller, but still nice enough. I've always liked my calves, so I'm happy about that.

What have I learned? 

I'd have to eat THIRTEEN TABLESPOONS of peanut butter to get 45 grams of fat. That's just shy of a cup, or about 24 peanut butter cookies. I'm not going to look up the calories. That would be mean.

(fyi: The picture is some leg quarters BHP smoked. They were delicious!)

There I Am!

 

Back in my 30's I decided I wanted to grow my hair out. I had kept short cuts since High School, and thought (I guess) it would be fun, or sexy, or who knows what was rattling around in my head. After several false starts including a disaster trip to a beautician after mine moved to Colorado that could only be fixed by going extremely short, I finally had hair down my back. Which I almost always kept in a messy bun at the nap of my neck. 

My son, who was born not quite two weeks before my 41st birthday, had never seen me with short hair. I just didn't think about it. I quit dying it and my natural hair is dark while my skin is fair and they never really matched. The dark hair made me look sick, but life was busy so I just didn't think about it.

Zoom ahead 20+ years. My hair, already beginning to thin really fell out after I got Covid in 2020 before there was a vaccine. My "oh, well" became "OMG! Ick!" Then, after thinking on it and getting a nudge from b/h/p (boyfriend/husband/partner for those out of the loop) I made the appointment and decided on a "Choppy Bob" before even showing up. The beautician, who I loved, assured me it was a great cut for me and helped me remember how to care for a short 'do. I had 11 inches cut off! I plan to donate it, but it's too short for some places. For the time being it's stored safely. I take after my maternal grandmother. She passed at 79 and was still salt and pepper, though more salt than pepper. So at 60 I have very little grey hair on my head. On my head. Do I have grey eyelashes? Yes. Grey pubes? My first grey hair was there. It's like a warped Dorian Gray. Instead of an aging painting in the attic, I'm storing my grey hair mostly in my "basement".

Anyway, I got home feeling pretty good. I even stopped and bought hair color, medium blonde, and used it immediately. That night while getting ready for bed I was washing my face. It was covered in suds, and I looked up in the mirror. With the suds covering all the wrinkles, the face looking back was that young woman I used to be! I gasped and blurted out "There I am!" It was like meeting a dear friend you haven't seen in decades and are shocked yet totally overjoyed. My heart raced and my eyes teared up. I missed her. I wasn't able to repeat that moment, though of course I tried the next night, but to have experienced it that once changed something inside me. I don't know if I can explain it. It flipped a switch I guess? I'm happier knowing "she's" not really gone, because I AM her. 

What I learned:

Maybe mirrors aren't my enemy after all. 

And maybe I'm ready to love my wrinkled, saggy, flawed self. Sure, it won't be easy, but I'm ready. As long as naps are provided.

Boyfriend/Husband/Partner?

I've been with the same man for 23 years. We've lived together for 18 of those years and yet to this day I haven't settled on how to address him to others. I've bounced between boyfriend or husband. My state, Missouri, doesn't recognize common law marriages, so kind of as an FU to "The Man" I wouldn't initially use husband. Now, I've read if we were willing to move to a state that recognizes common law and then move back after a set amount of time, our state would have no problem with the term. Weird hu?!  That's what happens when you have a state full of red yahoos. 

So anyway, lately I've decided partner isn't so bad, so I've add that to my list of descriptions. Somewhere out there is a person who thinks I'm a hussy and have both a husband and a boyfriend and I'm fine with that. I don't mind being spicy in someone stranger's mind. 

My boyfriend/husband/partner just calls me his wife. No muss no fuss. I think too much on things I guess, but that's just who I am.

I'll have to skip the "what have I learned" part. I'm even more confused today than I was 23 years ago.

Drawing A Line

Consider this is an imaginary line I'm drawing in imaginary sand. 

I turned 60 this year, but since I missed the majority of being in my 50's in this blog I'm going to make a list of the highlights and lowlights and use my imperfect memory as well as my imperfect "wisdom" to go over things from the magical place called hindsight.

I'll also complain, of course. Today is a perfect day to complain about! I mean I woke up refreshed and feeling good. I was even chuckling about a weird dream I can't remember now. THEN I HAD TO LEAVE THE HOUSE! Ugh! Traffic was twice as bad as usual, and when I got back home from picking my partner and our son up from their 3rd shift jobs as well as going to the grocery store there was nothing to eat for breakfast. I settled on a bowl of frosted cornflakes and that's when I realized some JERK had ate all four perfectly ripe bananas I had bought yesterday! In one day! Granted that jerk was me (they were SO GOOD!) but still I'm going to complain because I can. Seriously those bananas were the most perfectly sweet brown freckled bananas I've had in a long time. I mean, I didn't eat them in one sitting. I had two for breakfast with a cold glass of buttermilk (it's something I learned from my mom. A sweet/sour combo that's a comfort food for me.) Then I didn't eat the other two until 8pm. If I didn't have to leave the house I'd go buy another bunch. Though banana pudding sounds pretty darn good... I'll think on it.

So that's my day and it's only 9:45am

What did I learn?

I guess that I missed blogging. Even this short entry makes me feel pretty darn good.

Tah-tah for now.