Thursday, January 01, 2015

Welcome, 2015

The older I get, the less time I spend longing for the old days or making resolutions for the new year.  At some point, old age settled in and made its home here, and for the most part, I live in the now.  My new favorite mantra, when I'm meditating, is "I am".  Which, coincidentally, sounds a lot like "om", the chant most commonly used.  I don't say the words out loud, I simply think them, to keep thoughts from entering my mind.  I wouldn't want Cliff to wake up, walk into the living room, and find me with my eyes shut, chanting a word over and over.  He already tells me I'm strange.  I wouldn't want to push him toward a decision to have me committed.    

I sadly watch Cliff get up and walk across the room limping, which is an every day occurrence now.  I've been limping for quite a while, especially if I've been sitting for a long time.  I'm not sure when it started with him.  I look at my hands and see the age spots and transparent skin and realize my hands look older at the age of 70 than my mother's hands looked when she was 90.  I know age spots are caused by sun exposure, and I will admit I have spent lots of time in the sun... and I don't regret a single minute of it!  It's the same with walking:  I've walked for years as an exercise, and that may have had something to do with my arthritic knees.  But I wouldn't trade the pleasure and solitude I got from those walks for anything.

With the recent death of Cliff's brother Don, we've been reminded that every step we take is toward the grave, so we live one day at a time and are thankful for each one.  

We spent some time last night watching old Barney Miller shows from its first season, which wasn't the best season, but it was good stuff.  We remarked on the plaid pants and wide ties of 1975, and commented on how "cutting-edge" Barney Miller was at the time, right up there with All in the Family.  

At some point between 9 and 10 PM, I went to bed.  Cliff said he turned in shortly after 11.  According to him, I was doing an outstanding job of snoring, but he managed to go right to sleep anyway.  

Before I went to bed, I posted one video on Facebook (against my rules, but I knew I was breaking the rule at the time) and my daughter commented "ah-HA!" 

Today I made black-eyed-pea dip and enjoyed it with chips for dinner, while Cliff had a bowl of turkey soup I warmed up for him.  He spent the morning cutting wood and is back at it again now.  He's been so sedentary lately, he said it was hard to get his body moving.  He took a couple of Tylenol tablets before he went back out there.  

There are thoughts that often occurs to me when I'm scrolling down my Facebook wall, mischievous thoughts for which I am deeply ashamed.  For instance, someone posts a picture that says, "Share this if you have a daughter who is beautiful and smart."  And I want to make a sign that says, "Share this if your daughter is stupid and ugly."  (Mine isn't, by the way.)  
Sometimes it's "Share this if you love your grandchildren" and I want to post "Share this if your grandchildren are brats and you can't stand to be around them."       

It's just the twisted way my mind works, or maybe it's the idea that, of COURSE everybody considers their kids and grandkids good-looking and smart, so is it really necessary to put a sign on Facebook stating the fact?

Then I remember some pretty stupid stuff I've posted myself, and decide to let sleeping dogs lie.

Here's the video I posted against my rules last night:



Getting older is a pain for sure when it comes to legs, knees, hands and the like. I don't do Facebook and do not think I would like it with all the shenanigans that go on about various things. I think posting songs would be a nice feature, though. Happy New Year.

Margaret said...

You have a great and accepting attitude. I hope I am the same when my knees start hurting due to running and I have to give up activities that bring me pleasure. I get grumpy even thinking about it. The posts that make me laugh/want to comment something sarcastic are ones like, "Share if you're against animal cruelty/child abuse/etc." Because is anyone really FOR those things??

Pudge450 said...

I really dislike the phrase "Good ole days". I will soon be 65 years old and my good ole days are right now. I love everything new and technologically cutting edge. Those old days were before DVRs, iPads, smart phones, digital everything, Internet, cable television (also soon to be out-dated), microwave ovens, satellites, audio books, digital books, (my favorite) and instant everything. There is nothing good about the good ole days. I'm working double-time trying to keep up with changes and loving every minute of it.

Who would have ever believed you could decide you want to read (or listen to) a book and have it in your hands in less than a minute. Or sit in your living room and shop for something and have it delivered to your front door the next day. Or call your grandson and see him on screen while you are talking to him.
These are the best of times.

Lori said...

Funny you should mention age spots on your hands. I have been examining my hands periodically for the past couple of years, wondering when I will see a lot of age spots. There is one spot on my left hand that I noticed two years ago, and I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out if it was my first age spot or a mole that had always been there. It's still the only one, but I'm going on 49, so I expect them to crop up at any time. I haven't spent much time out in the sun since I was a teenager, but I do a lot of driving and I usually get a "farmer's tan" or a "truck driver's tan" from that, so I figured my hands would have had a lot of sun exposure. I can remember a lady I worked with when I was in my thirties who, at fifty, looked incredibly young. We were complimenting her on this fact one day, and she said, "Yes, but look at my hands. You can always tell a woman's true age by her hands. You can get a face lift, but you can't hid age spots on your hands." And sure enough, she had quite a few age spots on her hands. I think that's why I keep expecting to see them on mine as I get closer to 50. But I guess genes and environment have a lot to do with it, and everyone is different.

Average Jane said...

That's why I like you - you're sassy!

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