Age is Just a Number, I Think

Age is Just a Number, I Think

In a few months I will turn 65.  There I said it.  I don’t know why I am letting this bother me so much but I am.  It seems like I am feeling more aches and pains as time goes on.  In my mind I think I am younger than my real age.  But when I go to the mailbox, it is full of letters from companies that want me to choose them for my health care needs, or consider their site as my final resting place.  These are things I don’t even want to think about.  I just can’t be old enough to have to make these decisions yet. 

            If you have ever been on the Queen Mary do you remember that in the passenger’s rooms the lights were softer and the mirrors made the ladies look better than they actually did?  I think I would like one of those mirrors in my bathroom, along with softer lighting.   Some days the mirror is kinder to me than others.  When I wake up I see new wrinkles where there were none just the day before.  How could this happen overnight? Should I buy some silk pillowcases?  Does this just happen to me?  What will come next, a wart on my chin and a hair that grows out of it???  I hate this aging process.  But I have a friend who always says that any day above ground is a good day.  I wholeheartedly agree.

            With age comes wisdom, right?  I do remember those younger thinner days of my youth but I would not want to go back there for anything.  I think that for me being 64 is a lot like being 12.  When I turned 12, I was no longer a little girl but I was not a teenager either.  I didn’t know quite how to act.  I feel like that now.  I am not really old but I am not young either.   I guess I just have to take each day as it comes.  If I need to slow down a little then I will just accept it and not feel bad about myself.   Even if I move a little slower at least I am moving.  My food choices are never going to be perfect every day, but I am much more aware of what I put in my mouth.   Getting older is going to take some time for me to adjust to.  I am going to have to keep in mind what my friend says.  Any day above ground is a good day.    

             

Idle Hands are the Devil's Workshop

Idle Hands are the Devil’s Workshop

Have you ever heard this saying?  I have heard it most of my life and have pretty much bought into it.   As a child, I had to help out a lot at home since both of my parents worked.  Each day and especially on the weekend there were so many chores that needed to get done.  I am really going to date myself when I tell you I know how to operate a wringer washer without getting my hands or fingers caught in it.  I have wiped off the outside clothesline before hanging anything on it.  I learned the hard way what happened if you didn’t.  I was ironing clothes at a very young age and still take pride in how well I can do this task today.  There is not a wrinkle that can stand up to my skillful hands when it comes to ironing.  The house I grew up in did not have carpet.  Each floor was covered in shiny linoleum and it had to be mopped and waxed every week.  To this day I hate mopping.  I will take laundry over mopping any day of the week. 

            I think the phrase idle hands are the devil’s workshop was meant to scare me into never sitting and doing nothing when there was work to be done while I lived at home.   As a child I did not stop to think what this meant exactly, but I knew I wanted nothing to do with the devil so I just kept on dusting, washing and ironing those clothes, and mopping and waxing the linoleum.  Out of necessity, I also learned how to cook at the early age of seven or eight.  I could fry potatoes, make cornbread, and cook beans.  Those were my specialties.  Any southern girl should be able to make those favorites any day of the week.  To this day potatoes are one of my favorite vegetables, right next to fried green tomatoes, which are number one. 

            Last night I had the privilege of spending several hours at a Halloween party at the happiest place on earth.  It was one of those rare times when all of us could be together as a family.  When we have to juggle four schedules, it is not often we can all be at the same place at the same time.  Even though it was amazing, my little short legs were so tired after walking around for five hours straight. 

When I got up this morning, my first thought was, “Today I am not going to do anything.”  My second thought was, “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”  Then my third thought was, “ I am not buying into this any more.  I am retired and I have put in enough years not being idle.”  It feels like I am throwing a temper tantrum today but frankly I don’t care.  I went to the garden to water the vegetables and I was delighted to see that there are two green tomatoes growing.  They are about the size of a large marble, but it is a start.   The plot next to me has two huge tomato plants growing and as I looked more closely I saw that there were several green tomatoes about the size of softballs.  Oh I was briefly tempted to take one, since there were so many. But then I remembered that idle hands were the devil’s workshop.  So I quickly exited the garden and drove home.  I think I will get busy and bake some cookies.  My hands won’t be idle and cooking is one of the things I love to do.  I can still have my day where I am not going to do one thing I don’t want to. 

For fear of the worst, I never enjoy the best.

For fear of the worst, I never enjoy the best.

I was thirty years old when I had my first child, a beautiful daughter.  At that time I did not know she would be my only one.  I was teaching full time and always had such a hard time leaving her every morning to go to work, even though my husband was working at night so he watched her all day.   Because they spent all day together, they formed a close bond that still exists today.   She is her daddy’s girl, unafraid of life and looking for the next adventure.  My husband is the same way.  On the other hand, I am the opposite of them and I would be perfectly happy if she would go to work then come home and eat jello.  This is a running joke in our family.  I am of the opinion that if you just stay home and eat jello, you will not run the risk of choking and nothing bad will happen to you.  Even though I have improved somewhat, I still have a huge problem with worry.

            I thought I would worry less about her when she became an adult.   I see other parents handling this so much better than me.  Why can’t I just be happy for her when she is off on her next adventure?  She has done more and gone more places in her lifetime than I ever have.  In the past she would take my car since her little truck was unreliable.  I would often joke that my car had been to San Francisco but I had not.   As my title says, I fear the worst in many situations.  Sometimes I beat myself up because I know that fear shows a lack of faith.  In the past I heard that the letters in fear stand for false expectations appearing real.  When I let my mind go, the fear can spread like a wildfire. 

            Well, today my daughter left for a three day trip to Yosemite.  Of course I told her to watch out for bears and stay out of the water because it can be really cold and swift.  Then someone told me the deer could also be dangerous there, so that gave me a new worry.  Jeez!  Like I needed that.  Thank goodness she texted me when she got to the lodge where she and her friend are staying.  I counted the hours until I got that text.  The next day her friend decided to play a joke on me and text a picture in which it looked like my daughter was clinging to a rock, a very high rock.  Her arm was stretched out and her mouth was open like she was yelling.  For a moment I was startled and then my cell phone rang.  It was my daughter telling me it was a joke.  Hmmm…. I was not laughing.  My next text to her friend was,  “You are on really thin ice with me missy!”  You had better watch out if I call you missy or mister.   I know most people only think of the good times they are going to have on vacation, but I am one of those who will also worrry about everything that could go wrong.  My mother and my granddaddy are the same way.  Can worrying be inherited?  I don’t know.  I am blaming them for my problem with worry.

            Thank goodness my family loves me in spite of my problem.   They never worry about anything until it happens.  Oh how I long to be able to face life like that.  My husband always says, “Well, when something happens then I am going to worry.  Until I know anything different, I am going to assume that everything is ok.”  He did not grow up with worriers in his family.  I know that for a fact.  So my lovely daughter is home safe from her trip with no regrets.   She drove all the way there, made all the arrangements for the three days of sightseeing, and got back home without a scratch.  I hope one day that I will be more like her.  Until then, I will stay home an eat jello.   Unfortunately, at this time, for fear of the worst, I still have a problem enjoying the best.  

It's All About the Food, AGAIN!

It’s All About the Food, AGAIN!

     Those of you who know me well have heard me say so many times that I am not a religious person but I consider myself to be very spiritual.  So part of my routine is to read from my Bible as often as I can, which is not every day.  I will be the last one to tell you I do this perfectly.  Many times it is hit and miss.  A few days ago I read in Isaiah 55:2 “Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good.”  Wow, I never saw that before, even though I have read all the way through the Bible completely.  That did not register in my mind the first time.   One of my goals when I started this blog was to put myself out there and hold nothing back.  This is going to be one of the most honest postings I have done yet and I hope you will be patient with me. 

            When I was in elementary school, about in fourth grade, I started to put on weight.  By the time I got to sixth grade I weighed one hundred thirty pounds and was the largest student in the whole school.  By the time I had gotten to high school, I had gained almost fifty pounds more.  Looking back, I can tell you exactly why I was eating but was powerless to stop.  Food was my friend and my comforter, my constant companion.  The irony is that now I know what I ate over all those years ago because I have spent many hours in therapy finding the answer.  So why am I still overeating?  I am in awe of the human body, how it is made up of so many parts that all work together to keep me going every day of my life.  Why don’t I take better care of myself?  I hear this voice in my head saying, “You have been given this amazing body and what have you done with it?”

            I LOVE to cook.  I have loved cooking ever since I stood by my granny as she made delicious food on her wood- burning stove in Kentucky.  Her food was not fancy, but I would take a meal prepared by her over anything I have ever eaten in the fanciest restaurants in California.  Her food was seasoned with love.  Over the years as I have cooked for my family and friends, I have seasoned my food with love.  One Thanksgiving, I decided I was not going to bake my pumpkin pie or pecan pie that year because I was just too pressed for time so I went to the bakery and bought them.  When I served the pies to my family, my daughter looked at me and said, “This pie tastes awful. Mom, I can tell you that there is no love in this pie.”  I have never served them store bought pies again during the holidays. 

            So I guess in my mind, food equals love and I need both things in my life.  Now I just need to remember that I can eat what I cook but I need to get moving more.  My very talented husband once told me that singing was like breathing to him.  I feel like that about cooking.  It is so natural and brings me so much happiness.  It is unreasonable for me to think I can give up cooking, but I need to find the balance between cooking and eating.  I must admit that since my family came to visit I have put on a few pounds.  But it is less than ten so I know I need to do something NOW to get them off before the total goes any higher.  Do I go back to WW and begin again?  I don’t know.  I don’t have the answer.  For today I guess I just pay attention to those words, “Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good.”

Don't Cry Now That it is Over, Smile Because it Happened

Don’t Cry Now That it is Over, Smile Because it Happened

            My Ohio family has gone back home after being with us for a week.  The visit went as planned and overall I think everyone was satisfied.  Since I had not seen them for two years, I was overjoyed when my sister and I finally worked out all the bugs and they had reservations and an arrival time and date.  We started talking about this in January or February.  It looked like it was not going to happen.  I told my sister that I was just going to start visualizing them all sitting on my back patio with me.  A positive attitude does help. 

            A few years ago I was in a Hallmark store and I saw a card that said, “It has finally happened.  I have become my mother.”  Humm…. I had to think about that for a while.  My mother has some characteristics that serve her well and others that I hoped would never be part of my personality.  However, I can now see a lot of my mother in me.  She worries about everything.  I do have that characteristic and I am certain my life would be a lot more fun if I did not.   Is worry a trait you can inherit?  If it is, I got it from her and my grandfather.  What would a day without worry be like for me?  I would give anything to have a day like that.  I beat myself up at times because I equate worry with a lack of trust in God.  Oh if I could just get up and say, “Ok God.  This day is yours and I am just along for the ride.”  There have been times in my life when if I was in control, I felt safe.  Maybe this was a false sense of security, but it worked for me in the past. 

            It has been two days since the family left and I must admit I have had my crying spells.  I just have to remind myself of the saying I started with and that is to not cry that it is over, but be glad that they got to come in the first place.  We are already planning to go to Ohio to see them the next time.  It's true there is not as much to do in Ohio as there is in California.  But somehow the fresh corn, fried green tomatoes, home made cookies, and long talks with the people I love make me forget that.

            Now it is time to get back to working on myself.  It starts tomorrow with a long walk in the park and some self-reflection.  Time to start meditating and get focused again and take care of myself the best I know how.