No one really ate out much.  Mostly everyone cooked their meals at home.  I bought my tofu and brown rice and organic veggies (that usually looked kind of wilted) at a funky health food store, not the posh Whole Foods-like stores of today.

I’m not dwelling on the past!  I just want to share this clip of something that I found kind of funny…enjoy!

NANCY

I miss Andy Rooney, and, in tribute to him, I am going to air one of my pet peeves.  I’ve gotten so I read through the obituaries, partly for that feeling of having won a little lottery when I don’t see anyone’s name I know (so at this point, I still win a lot) and partly to read about strangers’ lives and marvel at the detail in some of them.  I have to admit that I also look to see mentions of a beloved pet left behind.  I do that with wedding announcements, too, and feel instantly connected when I see a pet in the picture with the happy couple.  I guess I should disclose that my dog “Pasha Bird” shared space with me in my college yearbook.

But, back to obituaries!  Often I see a picture of a young person staring out at me, and I gasp to myself, thinking, “how sad,” but then, when reading on, I discover the person is actually way past 60.  It happened just today in the Chapel Hill News.

Are we trying to say we are now forever young?  I don’t get it.  There was a flapper not long ago in the Raleigh paper, hair flattened down with tight curls, in a roaring twenties dress.  So, of course she was in her nineties.  Would any of our current acquaintances recognize us if we put our high school picture in our announcement?  Is it the families that do this?  Or do we, upon reaching a certain age, pick out our best shot from fifty years ago and designate it as our ‘parting’ shot?

I can see that some people may just not have a more current picture, but in this digital day and age, I would think they would be in the minority.

So, for heaven’s sake, anybody who doesn’t have a recent picture, please ask your grand kids to snap one of you, so we won’t have to move you through all three focal levels in our glasses to figure out even that we knew you!

Now I’m going to look up Andy’s obit to see what his picture was like.  Here it is:

ANDY ROONEY'S OBITUARY PHOTO

Annice

For the last month, my Saturday night entertainment has been Animal Planet’s Pit bulls and Parolees. I am a devotee of this show that brings together an amazing cast of tattooed characters and critters. For starters, there is Tia Torres, a tough red-headed super hero mom over 50, who founded Villalobos Rescue Center(VRC) to save abused and abandoned pit bulls. With her on this journey are her family and a crew of ex-cons who work tirelessly caring for almost 200 pit bulls at their 10-acre facility.  It’s a story of wounded souls to the rescue, and I love it. No job is too difficult for this dedicated and tattooed team. I’ve seen them spend days out in the scorching desert waiting to capture and rescue one scared dog.

Tia and friend

This past week, I witnessed Tia and her crew trek out to Alabama (from CA) to help rebuild a dog rescue center that was destroyed by the tornado there. They conducted a memorial service for the twenty some dogs that were killed and at the very moment during the service when the name of each dog that perished during the tornado was being called out, the other dogs on the premise were howling as if they, too, heard the names and were saying good-bye. And don’t forget to keep a box of Kleenex close by…

The drama is gripping. Not only does this amazing super hero, Tia, run the rescue for these four-legged friends but a rehabilitation program called Underdawgz for the parolees.  Tia believes both pit bull and parolee have been maligned and feared and both are in need of training and rehab, and Tia is committed to that — no matter how long it takes! I love her.

Showing the Love

But if you’re thinking about adopting one of these doggies, Tia doesn’t make it easy. She is is very strict about who adopts these animals because they are not for the bleeding hearts, and she wants everyone to know what they’re getting into. It takes commitment and hard work to own one of these rescues, but from what I’ve seen on the show, the reward is great.

FLIP, FLOP, and FLORIAN

The quince bush has started to flower. Some of the dandelion flowers have bloomed. It’s cold and below freezing at night, and sunny and reaching in the 50′s in the daytime. It’s the warmest winter that I can remember in the 13 years that I’ve been in these parts.

But me and the 3 new baby bunnies we got gifted to us are very happy!  We like sunshine and blue skies. And we like it crisp at night.

A non-profit animal rescue shelter nearby had just too many baby rabbits. So we agreed to take these three.

It’s always interesting how our animals get their names. In this case, we had to fill out a four page form and sign in front of a witness, saying that we would never eat them, that we would give them fresh water and food  daily (listing what kind of food and what is the source of our water), and then there were 3 blanks for their names. After reading all these pages, I decided to write in those blanks, “Finger, Lickin’, Good.”

Oh, just kidding! Flip, Flop, and Florian are what they will be called.

By the way, the one on the right in the picture, he really is smiling. His name is “Flip”.  “Florian” is the one in the middle, making “Flop” on the left.

I love all of our animals. I put flower essences in their water, or make tea for them when it gets really cold. I grow 3 different types of mint for them.  As well as lemon balm, basil, thyme, rosemary, oregano, parsley; I know they like the sprouted bread that I like from the store, so I will toast the ends for them.  I wish I could eat them beacuse I bet they would not need much seasoning!  But no, it would be like eating a close relative for dinner.

In return, I am gifted with the most wonderful manure that I could hope for. Rabbit manure can be put directly in the garden, without any composting. The only other manure is bat guano. But that is hard to come by.

The daffodils are up and have buds. Which is different, since there are no crocuses appearing. Nothing can be done. And, nothing matters…words from Osho that I find comforting these days.

I hope you are enjoying your life.

Life of flowers from VOROBYOFF PRODUCTION on Vimeo.

JANE

So, I’m back from Africa and settled back into my life (after considerable jet lag).  It’s hard now even to believe that just a week ago, I was driving around the wilds of Botswana in a safari vehicle, looking at rhinos and giraffes and elephants.  It all seems like a movie that I went to see, and now I’m out of the theater, dazed by the  bright outside light and realizing that I ate a little too much popcorn (or, in this case, one too many ‘fat cakes,’ a Botswana staple consisting of a big ball of friend dough dripping with grease).

This trip to Africa made me feel both younger than usual and older.  I felt younger to realize that I still had the nerve to go exploring and camping in remote places, with my 2 girls and some camping equipment.  It also made me feel younger to try new foods, meet new people, and to see new things.  However, the trip also made me feel older, in that I had more anxiety about things than I had ever had in the past.  Part of this is probably due to the fact that it was Africa I was visiting and not Wales (where I ventured when I was 19 and traveling by myself for the first time).

Part of my anxiety was also due, I’m sure,  to the fact that I didn’t have my husband with me—for the first time in about 28 years!  After all, Tom is always so on guard against every possible hazard to our kids that it makes it easy for me to relax and be laid back.

But the biggest part was probably just due to the fact that I’m 58 years old and a little too aware of the bad things that can happen to good people.  While Becky was excited to see the very interesting lizard on the roof of our camping tent, I couldn’t help but imagine that lizard dropping down on us in the night to give us a fatal, poisonous bite.  While Becky and Josie both enjoyed steering the rental car through the sandy roads into Khama Rhino Sanctuary, I kept imagining us stuck in the sand on a backwoods trail, with no one to come and rescue us or bring us water.  It made me feel old to be conscious of every mosquito bite, fearing dengue fever or malaria.

JANE ON SAFARI

I have to admit it:  when our plane touched down in Philadelphia, and I knew, for the first time, that I had gotten at least one of my girls safely back on this side of the ocean, part of me breathed a huge sigh of relief.

But then, I have to remember that there was also another part of me that was ready to pack up and go again.

I guess there’s still some life in the old girl.

APPLES PILED HIGH

After realizing that I only spent 3 minutes, 10 times a day on FB, I decided to try and see how many “real” hours a day I was spending on the computer.  It turns out I average around 5 hours.  By stopping FB, I had only managed to cut out 3.5 hours per week.  Hmmm.

I thought it would be interesting to find out how I compared with my friends, and found out that working and retired people alike spend about the same amount of time, an average of 8.5 hours a day…reading books, watching YouTube, texting, answering emails, being in chat rooms, playing games, working…whatever.  Some were on for around 16 hours per day, while others were just on it an hour.

I am not trying to turn back the hands of time here.  I do realize this is the norm now, this being on the computer for hours and hours and hours.  I just realized that being on the computer has replaced and surpassed the amount of time spent watching TV.  I went to get my eyes examined the other day, and my eye Dr. told me that I should get a pair of glasses that I use just for the computer, to avoid eye strain, which I do have.

So since I can’t cut down much more, I can take breaks: baking, gardening, painting.

Apple Charlotka

Here’s a recipe from the Smitten site (one of the few food blogs that I like) that I have modified to make gluten-free.  I’ve also cut back the sugar a bit, and sprinkle some of it on top to get a bit of caramelized glaze on top.  You’ll see.  It’s easy, not too sweet, and very yummy. The original recipe calls for all-purpose flour, by the way, which of course you can use.

Sadhvi’s Apple Charlotka

Butter or nonstick spray, for greasing the pan

• 6 large tart Apples, like a Granny Smith
• 3 large Eggs
• 1/2 cup Sugar
• …and another 1/4 cup Sugar to sprinkle on top towards the end of the baking time in the oven
• 1 t. Cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon Vanilla extract
• 1 cup of Pamela’s Baking & Pancake Mix (this replaces the flour, it is gluten-free, and, it tastes good!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Line the bottom of a 9-inch springform pan with parchment paper.

Butter the paper and the sides of the pan.

Peel, halve and core apples, then chop them into medium-sized chunks.

Put the cut apples directly in the prepared pan.

Meanwhile in a large bowl, using an electric mixer or whisk, and beat eggs with sugar until thick.

Beat in vanilla, then add the cinnamon.

Now stir in Pamela’s Baking & Pancake Mix with a spoon until just combined. (The batter will be very thick.)

Pour batter over apples in pan, using a spoon or spatula to spread the batter so that it covers all exposed apples. (i.e. spread the batter and press it down into the apple pile. The top of the batter should end up level with the top of the apples.)

Bake in preheated oven for 45 minutes or so.

Then sprinkle that reserved 1/4 cup of sugar on top.

Bake another 5 minutes or so.

Now move the pan up a rack, and put on Broil.  (At this point, watch the cake to make sure it does not burn!)

When done, cool in pan for 10 minutes on rack, then flip out onto another rack, peel off the parchment paper, and flip it back onto a serving platter.

Eat plain, warm or at room temperature, with some whipped cream or sour cream on top to get fancy, if desired.

Enjoy!

It's Good!

1) Seeing a mother warthog with her 3 babies:

2) Seeing a herd of elephants rolling in the mud under a hot, hot sun at Madikwe Game Reserve:

3) Watching the sun set at Tuli Game Reserve while elephant shrews and lizards ran around the rocks at our feet:

4) Visiting the little town of Serowe, with its fabulous museum that features a room dedicated to the life of novelist Bessie Head, as well as great exhibits about the Khama family (rulers of Botswana over the years):

5) Seeing a leopard—a very rare sighting—out for an evening stroll and watching lions drinking at a watering hole:

6) Catching a mother and baby rhino in our spotlight on our night drive through Khama Rhino Sanctuary

7) Playing “Categories” with my girls while waiting for our afternoon safari drive at Tuli, while a monkey stole our opened can of tuna fish!

Realizing that we probably weren’t going to die out in the wilderness, even though our 2-wheel drive rented car was having considerable difficulty navigating the sandy roads at Khama and the rocky, potholed roads at Tuli

9) Hearing about the incredibly lucky Australian girl who survived a broken bungee cord at Victoria Falls—and realizing that Becky was now not going to try that jump herself

10) Cooking outside at Khama, while scurrying away a pesky hornbill who was determined to peck away at the windshield wipers on our rental car

11) Buying Mopane worms at Main Mall in downtown Gaborone and watching Josie eat one

12) Taking a cold shower outdoors, under a full moon, at Tuli

13) Driving on the left hand side of the road, on the right hand side of the car, and surviving!

14) Never getting tired of the sight of a giraffe’s neck looming above the trees

15) Exploring Dubai airport with Josie and napping together in a “Snooze Cube” (which you can rent for an hour or two of much-needed sleep)

16) Realizing that every zebra has its own unique pattern of stripes

Annice

I was inspired to cook a hardy meal for a friend who spent six weeks in the hospital after suffering from a perforated colon.  She left the hospital weighing 90 lbs having lost 20, and when I asked her what she’d like to eat, she said, “meat – red meat.”

I immediately thought of one of my Dad’s favorite dishes, Hungarian Goulash.  Being Hungarian, it was a dish he often made in the winter and one that that I love but rarely make.  Of course goulash doesn’t have the same mystique of Proust’s madelaines, but it still conjures up childhood memories.  And while I wasn’t able to deliver my goulash with fresh crusty rye bread, it was every bit as delicious and authentic as my Dad’s.

As you might have guessed, my Dad never used a recipe, so neither do I.  I’ve tried my best to construct one for you.  The key, I might add, is to use good quality paprika.  After all, you want to be sure to get the vitamin C found in paprika.  And, did you know, it was Hungarian Nobel Laureate Albert Szent-Györgyi who is credited with discovering vitamin C in paprika?

Serves 6-8 people

DAD's GOULASH

Ingredients

• Oil
• 3 ½ – 4 lbs beef chuck cut into cubes (my Dad liked beef shank or shoulder)
• 3 large yellow onions, chopped (my dad always picked the largest onions)
• 4 large potatoes, cubed
• 4-6 carrots, cut in circles
• Garlic, crushed   (not too much)
• 2 tablespoons Hungarian paprika
• Salt and pepper
• Water

1. Sauté the chopped onions in oil until they are a nice golden brown.

2.  Sprinkle the onions with the paprika, stirring to prevent the paprika from burning.

3.  Add the beef and sauté until they are a bit brownish in color

4.  Let the beef simmer in its juice and add the crushed garlic, some salt and pepper, pour water enough to cover the content of the pan and let it simmer on low heat for a while, stirring occasionally.

5.  When the meat is half-cooked (approx. 1.5 hrs) add the carrots and potatoes, and more salt if necessary.  You might have to add some more (2-3 cups) water too.  ENJOY.

ME AND OUR DOG, BELLO

I just deleted my FaceBook account, which oddly enough, was not so easy.  Actually my account will not really be deleted for another two weeks. FaceBook wants me to be sure, so that in case I change my mind and feel the urge to log in and see what any of my 597 “friends” are posting, then I will be “reactivated”.

You might be wondering, what prompted this?

Well, it’s been building up…this kind of feeling of wanting to pull the plug.

For starters, I hate that there is no privacy any more on the web, and especially with having a FaceBook account.  Then I recently got my yahoo account hacked into, which ticked me off, wondering why would anyone want to do this kind of thing?  And then during the Holiday season, I kept seeing ads for places I visited on the web and especially while on FaceBook.  And then there are my friends with smart phones: the reception is not the best, so either I can’t hear them, or they can’t hear me very well, and often we are cut off and that is the end of that “cool”connection!   Misspelled smart phone emails are so common-place that I seriously wonder if anything matters anymore.

Oh, and you and I can now be arrested without a warrant and put in jail indefinitely without a trial date.  This is to protect us from something…ummm, what was it again?  Oh yeah.  Terrorists.

So for me there are many reasons.  And if something feels very overwhelming, bothersome and not much fun for very long, and if I’ve had one too many constitutional rights taken away in the last couple of years, something has got to change!

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So no more cool ways to connect for me.  Goodbye to Linkedin, to Google+, to all the other ways of connecting that I never could get into: Twitter, texting, & yes, Pinterest too.  God I feel better just writing this!

It’s time to spend less time on the computer, and more time with my dog and husband.  And doing things I love, like painting.

I will continue to write for Oops50 every Friday, and will do so until I no longer enjoy it.

I don’t have the boundless energy I once had, but I still have enough to draw and form boundaries of what is good for me and what isn’t.

Thank you menopause for making this all possible.

I think being a woman over 50 , a crone, an elder even, is going to be just fine.

Oh, in case any of my FB friends want to contact me, my email is:

SadhviSez@oops50.com

Unmillo's Hibiscus

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We arrived in Africa after a grueling but fun 29-hour trip.  The heat here is overwhelming…a constant sauna…but, since it’s dry heat, you can tolerate it.

After getting situated in the place we are staying, we walked to a nearby mall and had a delicious dinner of Indian food and went to see “New Year’s Eve” in English–at an air conditioned theater.  We could easily have been back home, except for the “chicken” flavored popcorn.  The next day, we explored Becky’s city, visiting her university and moving her into her new dorm room.  We were also visited by a stranger, who scaled the wall and the iron gate at the house, apparently to rob the house.  But, since I thought he was the gardener, who was due to come that morning, I went up and introduced myself to him and said, “You must be Mr. Mompati!  How nice to meet you!”  He looked startled and said, “Yes, Mr. Mompati.  Can you let me in?”  He was pointing to my host’s office door.  I said, “Yes, I can, but I need to go get dressed first,” as I was in my bath robe.  When I came back out, he was gone.  I didn’t realize his true identity until the real Mr. Mompati arrived the next morning with a big smile on his face.  I thought he was trying to pull a fast one on me, until I realized that he knew all about me and my girls–and my purpose for staying in the house.  After some discussion back and forth, I realized how close I had come to letting a thief walk right into my host’s office!

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We tried to start the big jeep of a car that we were going to borrow–the one with an extra tank for long hauls–but it wouldn’t even turn over, so we have ended up renting a car.  I can’t say I’m too disappointed:  1) it is automatic instead of manual, and I was having anxiety attacks thinking about trying to shift with my left hand, while getting used to sitting on the right side of the car and driving on the left side of the road 2) it is gloriously air conditioned!  It doesn’t have 4-wheel drive, which might be a problem in the game reserves, but I’m hoping we can work around that.  Now, if I can just stop putting on the windshield wipers every time I want to signal that I’m going left or right (since even the hand controls are reversed on the wheel).

Tonight, we take our malaria medicine and get ready to leave early in the morning for Khama Rhino Sanctuary–and Tuli Game Reserve–that is, if we can find our way to the road!

Love from Africa!

Jane

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ME AND OUR DOG, BELLO

I honestly don’t feel like there is a small gap between me and the next generation any more.  It  feels too big to say that. 

I don’t like FaceBook much any more either.  In fact, I find myself wanting to be on the computer less and less, but more and more time is spent there.  Hmm.

I’ve been trying and cannot seem to take a break from my computer and cell phone for even one day.  It is a true addiction.  Just wondering, how many hours do you spend on your computer each day?

One night this past week, my husband and I were making dinner together.  I am cranky by nature, and people who know me understand.  I mean, I am not used to having him around helping me in my, I mean, our kitchen, so he put on an old Cat Stevens CD, and within a few minutes I found myself in a really nice space.  Music will do that to me.  I imagine my Mom and Dad had similar experiences, but with Buddy Holly. 

So I am getting old – damn it!  Since there isn’t much I can do about it, except whine a little from time to time, I want to share another song that takes me back to a time that makes me feel relaxed and in a mellow space.  Enjoy!

Joni Mitchell playing with James Taylor, singing background harmony on the song: “You can close your Eyes”.

Oops, I was supposed to post this for Jane as she was flying off to Botswana with Josie to visit her daughter, but I had too many things on my list this past week.  So, here is Jane’s post -  just a little late!  Annice

Tell me again, whose idea was it to schedule a surprise birthday party for her husband’s 60^thbirthday one week before Christmas?  It was worth it—I’ll say that.  The party was a blast.  Tom was surprised beyond my wildest hopes.  Our friends and relatives came from far away places.  My wonderful niece and her husband came from Virginia with their two baby girls to complete our workforce made up of Lizzie and Janson (her fiance), Josie, and my wonderful friends Heather, and Nora, her daughter.  Together they decorated, cooked food, took pictures, arranged the room, welcomed guests–and generally made it all possible.  And Sadhvi gets an Oscar for her acting job that led Tom into the room “to borrow chairs for the weekend.”  Josie made an incredible 4-tier cake with the theme of “A Man For All Seasons” (with a season on each tier).  I got so wound up from seeing so many people  I love in one place that I’m still having trouble unwinding!  It made turning 60 seem like a great thing, and I’ll let you know about that in a few years.

Tom, Josie, and the Birthday Cake!

But whose idea was it to schedule a trip to Africa 3 days after Christmas?  This trip promises to be an adventure, and, most importantly, I’ll get to see my baby girl instead of missing her for another six months!  But, needless to say, I’m not ready for Christmas, and I’m not ready for Africa.  I’m guessing it will all come together, “one way or t’other,” as my mother used to say.

Here is what remains to be done today:

1) Shop for about five things that are still missing for Christmas

2) Find a plug that can convert to African power, so that I can plug in my C-PAP machine and sleep at night while I’m traveling around Botswana

3) Buy wrapping paper and wrap presents

4) Get international texting put on my daughter’s phone so that we can let my husband know that we arrived safely in Botswana

5) Call my credit card company to let them know I will, in fact, be in Botswana, so that they don’t kick out every transaction I try to do

6) Find the passports that I stored in a safe place for the trip

7) Get one of those passport holders you can wear around your neck

Go to the evening service at our church for Christmas Eve

Jane and Josie

9) Breathe deeply

10) Pack for Africa

11) Clean the house

12) Bake Christmas cookies.

I have a feeling that numbers 11 and 12 are probably going to go down the tubes!

Happy Belated New Year to all of our readers!  Off to Botswana!

SADHVI

There doesn’t seem much time to share much lately.  Sorry.  It’s all spinning!  I did want to share something though that I really found quite amazing: if you put red wine in a blender for 30 seconds or so, what comes out is really so much better.  I got this tip from my Cook’s Illustrated magazine, and wanted to share it:

Aerating Wine in a Flash

Annice

This is one of my favorite recipe’s from my dear friend Va at Sheville.org.  I tried to make this Tequila Christmas Cake recipe for Chanukah again this year, but it didn’t work out so well.  So, I’m trying again for New Year’s Day.  Here goes:

 Ingredients 

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Sample the tequila to check quality.  Take a large bowl; check the tequila again to be  sure it is of the highest quality.  Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer.

Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.  Add 1 teaspoon of sugar.  Beat again.  At this point, it is best to make sure the tequila is still OK.  Try another cup just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy.  Break 2 eegs and add to the bowl and chuck iin the cup of dried fruit. Pick the fruit up off the floor.  Mix on the turner.  If the fried druit getas stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the tequila to test for tonsisticity.  Next, sift 2 cups of salt, or something.  Check the tequila. Now shift the lemon ice strain your nuts.  Add one table.  Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.

Greash the oven.  Turn the cake tin 360s and try not to fall over.  Don’t forget to beat off the turner.  Finally, throw the bowl through the window.  Finish the tequila and wipe the counter with the cat.

Too Much Tequila

Pahhpy New Gears!

Sakshi the Swiss Chestnut Roaster

It’s the most wonderful time of the year.  Really.  Because it’s that time of the year that is the most hectic, with all the shopper’s and all their frustrations, and all the family gathering’s that have to be planned and all the gifts that must be bought and wrapped and then it gets dark so early and it’s cold and maybe it’s gonna be bad weather and! and! and!

Since I bake and send my gifts to my family, I don’t shop, I don’t do any family gatherings, and, we don’t have kids.  We don’t even celebrate Christmas.  Actually, I kind of like it that the more crazy it gets “out there”, the more I slow down and go inside.

Plus, it’s that special time of the year where I can get my fill of one of my most favorite foods: Fresh Roasted Chestnuts!

I get to help out at the Chestnut Stand, which I LOVE to do.  It is such a pleasure to smell the chestnuts roasting.  To watch people.  Look at their shoes.  Sing my favorite Christmas Song with customers: Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire (The Christmas Song).

To notice how many people are not aware of walking because they are texting or reading a text.  Or an email.  Or on FaceBook.  It’s kinda weird.  But that makes the ones that look me in the eye and smile from their heart really special.  It fills me up.  Oh, there are lots more babies this year.  And lots of them are laughing.

And more people are into chestnuts this year.  Maybe because chestnuts are so good tasting and so good for you?  A complete protein (you can live on them…cooked or raw), they are low in fat.  And alkaline.

This year, when someone asks for a sample, I say that it will cost them a quarter or a good joke (i.e. “chicken crossing the road jokes” do not count!).  It’s been fun.  It also been interesting to see how many people do not know a good joke – unbelievable!

The other day a small boy, maybe 6, who has been coming to the stand since he was a baby, doesn’t want a sample, he wants a large bag of chestnuts, but he wants to tell me his favorite joke.  Which is funny.

Then he says, “So who gets the money?”  It’s me.  Because I am the only one there.  My husband is someplace else.  He gives me the money, I give him the chestnuts, and then he says, “You know, I can’t tell you how shocked I was to find out you are the Chestnut Man’s wife!”.  We all cracked up and laughed and laughed.  I can’t tell you why that was so funny, but it felt so good.

And that is what makes this season special…there is so much of everything, including love and laughter.

Happy Holidays! Happy New Year!

xxx

Sadhvi

GWENDIE

Sometimes I feel like my husk, my body, is getting ready to shed, leaving only “me”—my core, my soul, my essence—behind.  And where will I be then?  Or maybe the question should be, what happens to the core “me”?

Some would say heaven or hell.  Others would say the essence returns to the universe in some other form.  Others say that “I” will be born again, perhaps as some lower being, perhaps as a more enlightened being.  Some might believe that, after death on this planet, the soul returns to somewhere in space where it originated.

All those ideas are attractive to me in some ways, but not completely satisfactory.  I have a very hard time “believing” in anything that takes place after I’m gone from this earth.  Even though I take on faith that electricity makes the light bulb glow, and I can’t see electricity.  But then, almost everyone agrees (has been taught) about electricity.  But not everyone agrees about what happens after the body, the husk, has been shucked.

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My body, the body I’ve never been all that fond of, has proved to be much more resilient than I every imagined it could be.  It has survived, although with considerable wear and tear, numerous and considerable assaults—from chemotherapy and radiation and immune disease and countless episodic drugs for infections and “conditions” like gastrointestinal upsets of various kinds.

I should be more appreciative of this body, this husk that protects the real me, as best it can.  There’s only so much an old husk (I am 70, after all) can do to beat off the many threats to its integrity.  There comes a time when rejuvenation, or return to the original state, is no longer possible.  That’s where my body is now. And I find myself (the real me) frustrated with this.

I miss the good old days when I could come down with something and then get over it.  There’s no getting over it anymore.  As one of my friends says, now it’s just all patch, patch, patch.  Making do with the “new normal”, which changes frequently as my body deals, successfully or not so much, with new challenges—new drugs, new problems in the body, new attitudes in the “real me.”

Lately, I’ve noticed that the general culture has picked up on the insight that positivity is a good thing.  And that “being present” can relieve stress.  So we have lots of platitudes posted on websites and sent in emails and embroidered on pillows and printed on greeting cards, and in fact, just about everywhere.

Be here now.  Smile, God loves you.  Love is the answer.  But I’m still stuck on shit happens! And that’s how I view the wearing down of my body, my husk.  It’s just one of those things.  Shit happens.  And as to what will happen to me, my core, my essence when my body, my husk fails totally, well, it’s always good to have a little mystery in your life.

BE HERE NOW

Annice

One of the newspapers delivered daily to my home is the WSJ.  Oddly enough, I don’t read it for the Money and Investing section but the front page news.  I also enjoy the marketing and technology trends, recipes, and the wonderful week-end section.  And, I usually let the papers pile up and read a few at a time, making the news outdated.  I don’t care, it’s always interesting in the present moment when I’m reading it.  One article, last week, that raised an eyebrow had to do with baby boomers.

Securities regulators and prosecutors are battling what they say is a nationwide surge

in investment fraud against baby boomers.  In many cases, the victims pursued risky bets to

overcome losses suffered during the

financial crisis—a trend that regulators say is worsening. 

Wall Street Journal, December 14, 2011

I'm not home!

Now that’s scary.  I always thought it was  “old people” who got suckered into scams.

Is my generation that gullible?

Well, it seems some of us cared about our future and that makes us vulnerable.  It also forces some otherwise good people to behave badly.

.

I got somewhat scammed myself recently.  I hired someone I knew for a small remodeling job in my kitchen (cabinets and a concrete countertop).  I paid her a deposit after I paid her in full for the finished cabinets.  I’d like to mention she asked to be paid in full when the job wasn’t even complete, and I did.  Then, she made samples for the countertop and after 8 – I could not approve one of them.  Nothing popped out at me, and I got tired of not having a countertop for weeks on end and honestly didn’t think after 8 tries, she could produce a good one.  So,  I decided to go with granite – something she did not do.

I apologized for not liking the samples and asked for my deposit back.  Well, this friendly remodeler basically told me to f—off.  She claimed the samples cost money and she bought the materials (concrete) already and I had to pay for that.  I went back to the contract which did not say I had to pay for samples or material in advance, or that the deposit was non-refundable.  To end the dilemma, I offered to split the deposit with her – for her troubles – and she basically said to to f–off.

Judge Judy

I’m guessing if the remodeling business was booming, this contractor would give my deposit back, but in this economy she’s behaving badly.  I informed her I was going to file a complaint in small claims court because I can’t afford to lose that deposit, but she doesn’t seem to care.  Now I will let a judge decide our fate.

What would Judge Judy say?  Is this a case of nice people behaving badly?

FATIMAH'

I offer my heartfelt congratulations to each of you—to each of us—for at some point on your journey, you may become a Proud & Gratified Parent of a Parent.  Ladies 50-plus, you are my sistah’s in many an unknown way.  Thus the subject and title of my first sharing with Oops 50!

Yes, indeed, one of my highlights in life is having the honor of caring for my parent(s).  For those whose parents are still with us, I say again, “Congratulations!”  And, for the parents gone on, “Thank you!”  Some of my friends say that I have a lot to share regarding the honorable role of care-taking for a parent.  And I just might agree.  Here is my first 50cents on the subject.

Over the years, I have had, and am still having, powerful transformative experiences through caring for both of my parents.  My mom (R.I.P) was challenged with dementia, but this little, yet extremely powerful lady was with us until she was 98.

MY MOTHER

My pape’ is still with me at the tender age of 105.  One thing that’s for sure – the role of parent is not an easy one.
I have come to realize (considering my parents’ ways, ideas, beliefs, habits & histories) they did absolutely the very best they could for me.  From the time I was a little girl until high school, my mom and I had some moments, mainly to remind me that she was the boss, the goddess, the doer, the artist, the one who stuggled.  I now know that within those ‘who’s boss’ experiences, she was empowering me—by standing in her own power.  Little did I know then that her ground rules were roots for my survival – her creative gifts, food for my soul.  Her fierceness was my foundation for growth and empowerment.

MY PAPE'

My pape’, a gentle man indeed, has his ways, beliefs, history and experiences too.  Pape’ and I flow 97% of the time with ease.  The few confrontations we’ve had only began as he got older and realized that his physical self and gentlemanly ways were changing. His man-ness, too, was shifting.

So, from then to now, what have I gained through the honorable role of being ‘A Proud & Gratified Parent of a Parent’ –that makes me congratulate myself…in gratitude?  I’ll start with some critical words for me:

Allow, Trust, Remember, Stand,

Give Choice, Be Responsible, Respect, Create Authenticity,

Let go!

From these engaging and transformative words and ways of being, creative and wondrous experiences happen.  They are mandatory for me within the dynamics of any relationship.  Telling a full-grown adult what they should or should not do is a no-win situation, and when it is your parent, forget it.  It creates separation, mini wars, challenges, heartbreak, sadness and a host of unhealthy energies and experiences…experiences that, in all honesty, we really do not want.
At any given moment, my Mom or Dad makes a choice to do something or say something that I might think will not be good for their overall well being or for their mental & spiritual wellness.  Once I have remembered to say, “It is your choice, and you are responsible for the results,” I have experienced each of them shifting, maybe not right there in the moment, but afterwards. It is an amazing gift to give another.  To be reminded of the freedom of choice, the result, the responsibility, has been an invaluable gift for my parents and for myself.

It is also good to remind them of the responsibilities that come along with choice.  This is my truth, from my experiences.  Learning this through my interactions with my parents has been an invaluable gift to me.
Once the choice is handed back to them, freedom is offered.  Once they get to remember “My Choice, My Results, My Responsibility,” an amazing shift happens.

I have experienced this shift many, many times—both with my parents and within myself.  Freedom for them and for me!  When I am no longer responsible for their choices, I am free to handle other, less challenging aspects of caretaking.

This is where those words above come into play: it is important to allow them to make choices and to give them the responsibility for those choices, and then I get to let go!  Parents are grown.  They have paid their dues.  They all have earned an invaluable place on this planet: to be acknowledged as the gift they are.  And NO, it is not an easy journey for any of us…but PROFOUND experiences, BLESSED moments and more come of it.
My choice has been to be authentic and respectful, stand in my truth, trust, while allowing & letting go, getting creative, be authentic to myself & to them—and I can testify it truly created a meaningful, loving, nurturing bond between my parents and me: a most whole, wholly holy experience.

Part Two of this session will follow.  In the meantime, I thank you for your readership & feedback!

Fatimah’　

SADHVI

I’ve started to get into the Holiday spirit.

It started with the first snowflakes last week, the Christmas songs I’ve been playing while baking the things that I love to send to my family, and the tangible joy I feel when I roast chestnuts as a street vendor with my husband.

This year there are more and more people who are trying chestnuts for the first time.  And loving them.

Knowing that they aren’t nuts, that they are a complete protein (you can live on them), that they’re alkaline, and they contain very little fat might be the reason.  Or could it be that they’ve been growing all summer in Italy, so that you are, in fact, eating “Italian Sunshine”?

HOT ROASTED CHESTNUTS!

Without chestnuts, I don’t know if I could handle winter.  I’ve made a simple Chestnut soup for dinner tonight.  I like easy, simple, and satisfying.

For my family who are far from me every year, I used the recipe that I have for making my Swiss Linzer Torte.  But instead of rolling out the dough for the torte, I just pinch off some pieces and roll it in a ball, press down in the middle with my thumb, and fill with raspberry jam, if I have it.  And some other kind if I don’t.  I bake them for about 15 minutes, and then sprinkle with some of the ground almonds.  Everyone loves them.  You will too!

“Swiss Linzer Thumbprint Cookies”.

SWISS LINZER COOKIES & ST. NICK

It’s not that I’m not happy about the news—or that we think it’s happening too fast.  Lizzie met Janson last summer, and he’s a wonderful guy—with a great sense of humor—who has found his way easily right into our hearts.  She met him through a friend of hers—at a time when she was not expecting to meet anyone.  Isn’t that how it always happens?  And they hit it off instantly.  He seems perfect for Liz:  their temperaments are compatible; they love each other; they share many of the same values.  What more could we ask for?

It’s just that, once all this happened—and after I’d come down from the cloud of excitement—I realized that maybe I wasn’t prepared for our baby girl to be taking this next step.  First of all, it seems impossible that she could be old enough.  After all, just a minute ago,  she was only four years old!  I keep thinking of “Fiddler on the Roof” and Tevye’s song: “Is this the little girl I carried?  Is this the little boy at play?  I don’t remember growing older.  When did they?”  How in the world did she get to be 24 so quickly?  And how in the universe could I be old enough to have a daughter old enough to get married? 

How quickly these big, momentous things happen! I guess that’s the terrifying thing:  life is always faster-moving and less predictable than you think it is when you’re stuck down in the weeds, dealing with the day-to-day mess. In any case, it’s great.  They are great!  And I’m going to have a share a picture of the cute couple, so people can see how darling they are! 

 I’m sure I’ll get used to this soon.  I know one thing:  no matter how long it takes me, I’ll adjust sooner than Tom (my husband), who has been laid flat out on the floor!!

Annice

Oops.  I did a really stupid thing.  I was driving around doing errands on Saturday when I looked into the rear view mirror and saw how ghastly my hair looked.  I was in the middle of a hair emergency without an appointment.  I haven’t been happy with my stylist lately, and in fact I’ve been shopping around.  I’m tired of paying a lot, and not being satisfied.  All that to say, I ended up driving to the nearest cheap hair salon I spotted on the highway, and walked in.

After all, aren’t all the stylists in those kind of places recent grads who know the latest techniques?  Aren’t they just working at these cheap places to get experience, build up a clientele, and move on?

I walked in.  “Hi, can someone cut my hair now?”

Behind the desk, the receptionist, sporting a great haircut, looked up.

“Sure.  Give me your coat and take a seat.  I’ll get Terry (not her real name).”

.

Sitting in Terry’s chair, I looked around.  The place was dumpy, looking like the low-end salon it was.

Out walks Terry smelling badly from cigarette smoke.  Her face was covered with deep wrinkles and when she smiled, she was missing a few teeth.  I won’t bother to detail the many different colors of her hair ranging from burnt orange to caramel.

OMG.  I had a sick feeling in my stomach as I sat in Terry’s chair, a prisoner, held hostage by my own stupidity.  It was too late to turn back.

I tried to imagine the best case scenario.  Maybe she was a recovering addict from NYC and came to the mountains to get her life back together.  She wouldn’t be the first.  Or maybe she was a super stylist from NYC.  Anything was possible.

“Is that a natural curl?” she asked.

“Yes, and I happen to have a photo of the cut I like in my wallet.”  I handed the photo to Terry.

She looked at it for a second.

“No problem.  I’m great with curly hair, been cutting hair in Asheville since 1994.  Raised four kids as a single mom cutting hair.”

“Ever been to New York?”  I could only hope.

“Never been out of Asheville.  Never had the desire.”

“Never.  Not even for a visit?”

MY NEW HAIRCUT

“Nope.  I’m gonna  cut your hair dry.  It’s the best way to cut curly hair.”

I knew that was a fair statement and such technique existed, so I did not argue with Terry.

Chop, chop, chop.  Terry cut away until I was left with a short pixie.

“What do you think?  I think that looks about right.”  Terry picked up the photo and held it up to the mirror next to my image. “What about color?  We use a very good color here.”

I could not speak.

“Would you like to schedule your next appointment?”

“Next appointment?  Oh, well, I won’t be needing a next appointment until April – 2013.”

Jane

This joke was sent to me by Betsy, one of our contributors, and I just had to share it.  Apologies to all of you who have already heard it!!! 

(as told by a woman)

I had lunch with 2 of my unmarried friends. One is engaged, one is a mistress, and I have been married for 20+ years.

We were chatting about our relationships and decided to amaze our men by greeting them at the door wearing a black bra, stiletto heels and a mask over our eyes. We agreed to meet in a few days to exchange notes.

Here’s how it all went.

My engaged friend:
The other night when my boyfriend came over he found me with a black leather bodice, tall stilettos and a mask. He saw me and said, “You are the woman of my dreams. I love you.”

Then we made passionate love all night long.

The mistress:
Me too! The other night I met my lover at his office and I was wearing a raincoat, under it only the black bra, heels and a mask over my eyes.

When I opened the raincoat he didn’t say a word, but he started to tremble and we had wild sex all night.

Then I had to share my story:
When my husband came home I was wearing the black bra, black stockings, stilettos and a mask over my eyes.

When he came in the door and saw me he said,

(You’ll love this)

“What’s for dinner, Zorro?”

Sadhvi the Roasted Chestnut Vendor!

I got a lot of emails, wishing us a Happy Thanksgiving yesterday.  Facebook postings from friends were abundant.  It was nice.

Being far away from family AND chestnut roasters to boot, Thanksgiving is always a very busy day after a week of being busy selling  “Freshly Roasted Italian Chestnuts” outside of the health food store here in town.

After chilling out for an hour or so after coming home, we ate a simple meal of  homemade Quiche Lorraine (I always make a few extra pie crusts and freeze them, so that on busy days I can take one out before I leave the house and it’s good when I get home) with salad and greens from the garden.  It was so good to relax, knowing that we have a day off today, and that we could sleep in too.  No Black Friday for us.

I read everyone’s little share about being thankful at this special time of year, but here’s the one that got to me.  It’s all about opening our eyes…I found it beautiful.  Thanks Daniela for sending it!

 Here are 10 things I’m thankful for this year:

1)  We have wonderful friends who make us feel thankful to be alive and sharing this planet with them.

2)  Our daughter Becky in Africa is feeling better, so maybe she doesn’t actually have dengue fever or some other horrible tropical disease (what I immediately assumed upon hearing that she had a fever and muscle pains). And our daughter Josie does not have a stress fracture on her leg—just shin splints!  Yaay!  And she’s going with me to see Becky soon.

3)  Our daughter Lizzie has Janson in her life—a thoughtful, loving guy—and Janson may even have a job soon, thanks to some great folks who read about him in the paper and decided they wanted to go out of their way to help a Marine veteran!

4)  Our son, Parker, is very happy at Bard College—and, even though he won’t be home for Thanksgiving, he gets to have turkey dinner with Janet and Jerry, our wonderful friends in New York.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING FROM OOPS50!!!!

5)  I have three powerful and loving sisters (and a host of wonderful blood kin) and terrific, loving in-laws (how lucky is that?).

6)  Tom can still, after 28 years (is that possible?), make me laugh so hard that I risk embarrassing him in public (but I never really do).

7)  Obama is still in the White House.

  Even though I’ve gained some pounds and need to get rid of them, I’ve managed to keep off most of my weight loss.

9)  Our dog Tater loves to chase a laser around our floor—over and over again—without ever getting bored or tired.

10)  Ultimate Ice Cream (in Asheville, NC), especially the Coffee Heath Bar (perhaps this last one should be avoided). 

Carrots, Kale, and Fall Salad

Good news! The vote November 21st on whether to move forward with the fracking on the East Coast, totally affecting the Delaware River Basin, has been postponed. And of course, just recently so has the Keystone one that would come down from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. I can let out a long sigh of relief. I called people, including President Obama’s telephone number, and Joe Biden’s too (after all, he is from Delaware). It was kind of intense. But, it seems that all the hype (Thank You Josh Fox) helped to put off (maybe forever?) what would be a huge mistake.

And while many of you might not even be aware or care about that issue, I am sure that all of you can feel the hyper energy of the Holiday Season – it has begun!

This year, the Christmas food and even decorations are out before the Thanksgiving things in the grocery store. And yes, even Santa is working overtime and came yesterday to visit with the kids at a festival nearby. Poor kids.  They will start to think that Christmas is before Thanksgiving.

I just want to slow down even more. And take walks with my dog alone, eat comfort food, and bake.

I went out yesterday to take a look at my garden to see what was going on since I hadn’t been out in a week or so…just caught up in other things.

I’d planted some carrots this past summer. I could see that the carrot greens were very nice looking; bright green and robust.  I had forgotten about them!  Which is what I really like about growing carrots – they are always a surprise, quietly growing underground all summer, and come fall, they are ready. I pulled a bunch and made a good soup with them, giving our rabbit, Brownie, the robust carrot greens. I think I saw him mouth, “Thank You”.

The Late Afternoon Fall Sky

I won’t be doing any family things for Thanksgiving…just helping out with the Swiss Chestnut Roaster, and cooking meals and keeping the order and balance in our life.

To finish out this week’s post, and in case you have a moment to click and close your eyes for a few minute’s, here’s some music by Shastro that I really like.

Shastro's Tantric Heart

Ho Ho Ho!

Sadhvi

I didn’t think it would be possible.  I could not imagine how I could ever get there.  I had resigned myself (sorrowfully) to the idea that my daughter would be in Botswana for a year, and I would not get to see her—or to get any glimpse of her amazing new world.  We knew we couldn’t afford to bring her home for Christmas; and we didn’t see any way that we could get over there.  I was just going to have to stop worrying about her and accept the fact that I would not see her for nearly 10 months.

Then, the miraculous happened.  First of all, I had a visit with my wonderful sisters at the beach, who all encouraged me to think creatively about getting there to see Becky.  My sister, Katie, told me about how people can donate frequent flyer miles to other people.  My other sisters talked about ways to raise money for the trip.  My youngest daughter, Josie, said she was determined to go, and, since she suspected I would not let her go by herself, she offered to pay for herself and for part of my trip out of her hard-earned babysitting money. 

Africa, here we come!

After I got back from the beach, my sister, Sheppie, sent me a donation in the mail, “for your trip.” That was just the beginning of a string of incredibly wonderful, generous acts by friends and family.  Here’s a summary:  my wonderful roommate from college, Cindy, donated her frequent flyer miles to me; my incredible mother-in-law, Henny, gave hers to Josie. 

So, we knew we could get to Africa—and that we could even stop in Holland on the way to visit with family!  But we still had no idea how we could afford to do anything once we got there.  And then, the miraculous happened:  a friend of a friend of my husband’s, a wonderfully generous man who will remain nameless (in case he doesn’t want the publicity), offered us the use of his house and his car, for an extremely moderate fee, during our visit.  And, he told us how to see all the things we wanted to see—the elephants, the lions, the rhinos, etc.—without breaking the bank.  He told us about the out-of-the-way nature parks that tourists don’t usually visit.  He gave us tips about how to camp and cook your own food, instead of staying in luxury safari lodges.  As things turned out, he even designed a 9-page itinerary for us, with tips on all the little things we should know, such as which line to stand in for Customs, how much a taxi ride from the airport should cost, what to bring with us from the States, etc.  I consider him our Fairy Godfather for this trip—and this is a man that we will not even get the chance to meet in person, since he and his wife will be away on a cruise when we are in Botswana!!!!

Beautiful Beach in Capetown, South Africa

In any case, this post is the first in a series about our trip to Africa.  I thought our readers might find it interesting to share in the adventures of a 57-year-old woman and her 15 and 19 year old daughters, as they take on Africa!  I hope you will, anyway, since I know I’m going to feel like writing about it.  As my Fairy Godfather said in a recent email, “This will probably turn out to the be the adventure of a lifetime for you.” 

Rhino

P.S. The pictures in this post were taken by our daughter in Africa!!!

Annice

What a year – so many friends and family with serious health problems, starting with my husband’s fall last February, the loss of my Dad, and then both my dogs.  There has been no reprieve.  I am shocked about all the friends that have had serious to critical health problems accompanied by extended stays in the hospital as well as long recuperation’s at home.  If I made a list of all the sick people (and animals) I’ve known this year, it would add up to more than a dozen, and that’s way too much in one year.

Just a few weeks ago, I made a huge pot of matzo ball soup and delivered it to four sick friends.

Matzo Ball Soup

It’s depressing and stressful worrying about them.

So, I created a way to cope with the year of sick friends.  I built an imaginary wishing well in my heart and when I’m about to do a yoga practice, (whether in class at One Center Yoga or in my home), I dedicate my practice to all those who need well wishes.  I sit in Sukasana and take five long breaths and say their names in my head and breathe them out and down my wishing well.

Sukasana

Today, another friend just told me about her Mother who suffered a major heart attack after falling and breaking her hip and knee.  Tonight, I will add her to my ever growing list of well wishes.  I hope it helps because I don’t know what else to do.  Like chicken soup, it can’t hurt, right?

SADHVI

These days I am increasingly aware of how much information I take in while not reading newspapers nor having any TV to watch.  It’s all from the internet.

So, with this post, I want to share a personal sigh of relief:

President Obama has delayed the Keystone XL Pipeline! Say thanks, and ask him to reject it once and for all.

And to bring awareness to another MAJOR issue that is going to affect a whole lot of people.  People who happen to be my family.  My friends.  Maybe yours too?

It’s about a decision to start drilling in land that will affect the Delaware River basin after a long moratorium.  Not just one drill, but a LOT of drilling.  Just the idea that lots and lots of fracking is about to occur, and that the Delaware River basin is going to be affected by all the chemicals that will flow into it makes me nauseous.

I could pretend that it’s all awesome and that it won’t be that bad, but instead, I choose to bring awareness to it.  And for those of you who are afraid of awareness, don’t be.  Because in times like this, it’s OK to to notice and say that the Emperor is not exactly fully clothed.

You might not be able to physically participate, but you can call to say something.

Call the Governors from the member states and President Obama Monday – Friday from 8-6pm.

Just tell them,

“Hello, I am calling you to express my serious concerns about hydrofracking.  Please Don’t Drill the Delaware!”

Governor Christie’s office:609-292-6000

Governor Cuomo’s office: 518-474-8390

Gov Corbett’s office: 717-787-2500

Gov Markell’s Wilmington Office: 302-577-3210

And the White House comment line: 202-456-1111

In case you don’t really feel like it, you might after you watch Josh Fox‘s video of what is at stake.

SAVE THE DELAWARE from JFOX on Vimeo.

And lastly, I was listening to some NPR on the radio in my car the other night, and a singer came on and spoke, and then sang and played.  She is not a newbie to the music scene, but she is new to me.

Abigail Washburn.  I really liked what I heard. I felt comforted.

And these days, it is about finding the balance between being aware of how fragile it all is, and moments of comfort and joy.

Wishing you Well,

Sadhvi

JULIA

My thoughts on learning that I am going to be a Grandmother are as follows:

Okay, so I had more than 10 thoughts in a row.  This doesn’t happen every day.  I just had to write them all!

Julia Coward lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, in a house made entirely of dog hair.  She has held many varied and interesting  jobs in her career as a person, but her favorite has always been raising and caring for people and pets in all different ages and stages of life.  Plants have to fend for themselves.

Dee Charlton

I’m grateful to be one of the lucky, reunion re-connections that formed over the past 18 months with Annice, one of the co-founders of this wonderful blog Oops50.com.  Our friendship goes back to 6^th grade summer camp, and if my math is right, that’s 47 years ago.  The camp was devised by the school district to facilitate kids from several grade-schools to meet and spend time together prior to the major transition into the adult world of 7^th grade!  We became fast friends.  We were 12 years old.

October 23, 2011 – I turned 59.  How strange it feels to be writing for this blog and and saying, I’m almost 60 !!   How did that happen? The Bonnie Raitt song; “Nick of Time” keeps playing over and over in my head, especially the lyric; “… no matter how I tell myself – it’s what we all go through,  those lines are pretty hard to take when they’re staring back at you..”   In the Nick of Time  You ain’t never lied sister Bonnie!

My husband, Scott and I have been traveling the country in our motor coach since April.  We just returned to beautiful Sarasota, Florida Nov. 1^st, and I’m sitting in front of the computer looking at our wedding photo taken in Italy.

Dee's wedding in Italy

Next to that is the photo we had taken last month in Las Vegas, it was our 5^th anniversary – wow.  What a life, what a journey this has been!  I can’t say I remember what I wanted my life to be when I was younger except that I wanted to be independent and travel, and now I can say yes to both of those goals.

I’m also feeling how fortunate I’ve been to experience the wonder of this country – the canyons, the mountains, the Bad Lands, Death Valley, White Sands, Alaska and hot air balloon festivals.  I’ve even jumped out of an airplane and para-glided off a mountain.  I’m grateful for it all, and for Scott.

Next - Pilot's license

Back to my birthday – it was harder than I expected it to be.  All day, I was fighting back tears.  I know I’m not afraid of death, I’ve been faced with it on more than one occasion.  So what was tearing me up?  Aging?  Vanity?  Am I that vain?  I guess I am, but is that worse than death??

I think it finally hit me when I texted Fran (my wonderful step-daughter) something my mother said to me on my birthday: “Welcome to the last year of your 50s!”  Thanks Mom.  Her stand-up routine could use a little refining, but I love her anyway.  And thank you Fran for letting me cry on your long distance shoulder.  For every year that passes me by, I come one more year closer to losing my Mom, and that hurts a lot.

Dee with Mom

Honestly, I’ve just gotten to know my mother well about seven years ago, and I cherish her as my real best friend.  I am a lucky 59 year old woman in so many ways!

Born in Collinwood (Cleveland) OH, Dee’s family followed what she likes to refer to as the Italian Migratory Route from Little Italy in Cleveland to the ‘burbs where her mother still resides. 

After graduating from high school, she struck out on her own in her first apartment, later to be hired by the same people who built, owned and managed the complex.  

Her career in Property Management took her to New York, New Hampshire, and finally Florida, a place she wanted to stay.  In the early 90’s, Dee was hired by a national company and traveled the country promoting motivational speakers to help people get rich quick – just like they did.  It wasn’t unusual for her to come home with half a million dollars in her briefcase.  Eventually, Dee settled down in Sarasota.where she met her husband, Scott, and married in Santa Maria di Castellabati, Italy, just south of the Amalfi coast.  Today, they live in Sarasota during the winter months and travel the rest of the year in their motor coach.

College Boyfriend's Horse Pic

There are the people who go through a horse period, when their child is taking lessons.  Maybe they even buy a horse.  But as soon as the child loses interest or the horse becomes unusable, they’re done with it.  That horse may get passed along to the next brief enthusiast and the next, then maybe to a riding stable, but eventually there’s no real use for it—other than just being a horse.  What happens then?  More than likely, the horse ends up in a bad situation, gets put down or goes to the slaughter house.  

One of our horses came with a long line of impressive show wins, and with a little notoriety from his time at a local barn, so, after having him for about 10 years, I called the previous owners to let them know how he was doing.  I could tell from their response that they thought I was nuts.  Like a lot of other people, they had no interest in finding out what had happened to their horse after they were finished with it.   

I’m fortunate in that we have a farm, so we have never had to board our horses.  Of course, that is a double-edged sword—because if we had had to board them, we’d have never ended up with so many horses.  Some we got as sad-story rescues, such as the horse show jumper who wasn’t ever supposed to jump again who was being used as a jumping lesson horse, or the retired thoroughbred with the bent leg, or the little Arab, “Rosie”, we found on the side of the road.  (When I was little, my parents accused me of yelling “pick me up!” every time we passed some unfortunate creature on the side of the road.  I guess they never imagined I’d find a horse that way.)

Jackson

Rosie was a mess.  She was loose that day, grazing beside the road, but she normally lived in a muddy garage with a piece of barbed wire across it, right next to a busy road.  She’d gotten out in an ice storm and fallen.  There were wounds all over her.  When I found the owners, I offered to pay them $200 for her or to call Animal Control.  We brought her home that day.  Local men that came to help us pick up hay that season knew her.  They said she was always in a local parade.  One day I put a saddle on her.  It felt unnatural.   I wasn’t used to her high-head Arab carriage.  It was unnatural for her, too: she associated riding with fear, noise, and stress.  I never road her again, and that was ok.  To see her put on weight and just be a horse in the pasture was payment enough.  She has arthritis now, and one leg is bending at an odd angle.  When it gets cold outside, I blanket her, but every morning she’s there with her ears perked up, waiting for her food.  I doubt she’d be alive if we hadn’t brought her here.

When people adopt dogs they are forewarned to be prepared for a lifetime commitment, but horses aren’t viewed that way.  Just because we don’t eat them, are they as disposable as pigs or cows?  Anybody can buy a horse with no questions, such as are they properly able to care for them?  Fenced yard? (please no barbed wire)  Enough yard? (2 acre minimum per horse) Intent to breed? (ever check Craig’s List to see how many are looking for homes??)  Will they be able to handle yearly worming, hoof trimming, vaccinations and feed, for goodness sake, all essentials for a healthy happy horse?

Nobody polices potential horse owners to see if they “get” what all is involved.  In this day and age, when Bob Barker is pleading to our lawmakers for protection for circus animals, there ought to be some kind of minimum requirement for horse ownership—and not just the last resort intervention of animal control when the horror story makes its way to the local news. 

People watch “The Horse Whisperer”, “Secretariat” and soon “War Horse” and marvel at these magnificent creatures and all they sacrifice for us.  It shouldn’t be a one-way street.

Dinner Time

Years ago, when I would get a new puppy, I’d calculate what my age would be when the dog reached the end of its life—and would figure that, by that time, I’d be able to handle it better.  Somehow that never worked out.  When my husband surprised me with a weanling about six years ago, did he calculate how old I’d be when it reached 30?  I just hope that, at 86, I can remember to go outside and feed it!

THE LIGHT OF AUTUMN

We belong to the local “Swiss Club”, where we get together every so often to eat good, traditional Swiss food, chat, watch a movie, and generally have a good time.

One of our friends is a cook in one of the resorts here, and we started to talk about “Rot Kraut”, a favorite fall dish.

Then the whole table took turns telling how they make their version.

Every person had a different way to make it, and everyone was excited and thrilled to hear how.  I love those kind of conversations…so much better than trying to top each other on the latest bizarre news of the moment!

I don’t remember eating “Red Cabbage” while growing up in Cleveland.  I did eat it in Switzerland though, where people went crazy over it, as a side dish to other fall specialties, like homemade “spaetzli”  served with wild boar sausages.

MITSOUKO by Guerlain

So if you like “Red Cabbage”, I think you will love this “recipe” I got from a French house guest we had staying with us.  She also was the one who introduced me to the Guerlain perfume house, and my favorite perfume, Mitsouko.  I can’t remember her name, it was over 20 years ago, but I will always remember her.

She got this recipe from her great-great grandmother that is absolutely delicious.  Funny, but when I told the friend who’s a cook about how I make it, he said he had never heard of doing it like this before with garlic.

By the way, he uses apple sauce…something I will be sure to try in the months to come.

Sadhvi’s Red Cabbage Recipe

1.   Take a head of red cabbage and wash, remove any outer leaves that don’t look good, core it, and cut it up into the desired size.

2.   If you use a pressure cooker for everything like I do,  then you know how to do the timing, etc.  If not, throw the cabbage into a big pot with a tight fitting lid.

3.   Take a whole head of garlic (or so), peel, and put one or two whole cloves into each piece.  This makes taking them out very easy after cooking, because you don’t want the cloves after it’s done.   Place them amongst the cabbage in the pot.

4.   Now sprinkle some good balsamic vinegar over the cabbage.  It’s maybe a cup, maybe a bit more?  It doesn’t matter!  We have a store around here that has really cheap prices on really good condiments.  So I understand if you don’t want to use your really expensive Italian Balsamic Vinegar.  Use whatever you have on hand.  No need to go out and buy anything special for this recipe.

5.   Now sprinkle some salt over the cabbage.  And now some nice olive oil. 

6.   Cook.  Voila!  Enjoy…now wasn’t that easy?  It’s even better the next day, by the way.

"ROT KRAUT"

While on the operating table she had a near-death experience.

Seeing God she asked, “Is my time up?”

God answered, “No, you have another 40 years, 2 months, and 8 days to live.”

Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have a face-lift, liposuction, and a tummy tuck.

She even had someone come in and change her hair color.

Since she had so much more time to live, she thought she might as well make the most of it.

After her last operation, she was released from the hospital.

While crossing the street on her way home, she was hit by a car and died immediately.

Arriving in front of God, she demanded, “I thought you said I had another 40 years – why didn’t you pull me from out of the path of the car?”

God replied, “I didn’t recognize you.”

WHITE BEACH MORNING GLORY

Bob Miller

One of the things I love about blogging is the ability to meet people anywhere – anytime.  When Sue Counts (guest blogger) wrote about co-housing a few weeks ago, we got tons of emails and comments from readers everywhere.  One such person was Bob Miller, and the next thing I knew, I was inviting him to be a guest blogger – our first male blogger on Oops50!  Thank you, Bob. 

Annice

My wife and I became members of a co-housing community called Wolf Creek Lodge earlier this year.  The lodge is currently under construction in Grass Valley, California.  We expect to move in sometime late in 2012.  We have chosen Wolf Creek Lodge as an appealing environment for our senior life style.

Future Wolf Creek Lodge

The conventional American living environment can be hostile to the senior species.  They want community, walking access to stores, entertainment and recreation.  They want low maintenance, sustainable housing.

Community is important to me and my wife.  Earlier in our lives we found this at our workplace, through our children’s activities, our extended family, our church and sporting activities.  We no longer go out to work and our children are living their own lives and our older family members have passed away.

We watched our parents become isolated in their later years.  We believe we can do better by taking action now before change becomes challenging.

Who's Slowing Down?

At Wolf Creek Lodge we will have our own condominium-style apartment, one of 30.  However, we will also use the common room, living room, patio and gardens.  We will invite friends to stay in one of several guest apartments.  We will stroll on the adjoining trails, walk to the nearby shops and enjoy the cultural activities of Grass Valley.

Community will be at our front door.  Most evenings we will dine in the common room sharing cooking and clean up activities.  We will join others over coffee and relax on the patio.  We will continue to ski, bike and hike in the northern Sierra, which are only an hour away.

What a Ride

We realize that as the years pass we may become unable to drive and our physical capabilities may become more limited.  The Wolf Creek Lodge environment will continue to work for us.  The lodge even includes an apartment for a care-giver, should we need extra help.

Wolf Creek Lodge is a creation of its evolving community.  The community worked with the architect on the design to oversee the construction and formulate the processes which will guide the members’ common activities.

Already, months before moving in, we are enjoying the community.  We are in constant electronic communication with all the other members and attend the General Meeting in Grass Valley once a month.  My wife has a key role on the landscape committee reviewing the planting plans and identifying members who want to work in the gardens.  I help on the marketing and technical committees.

Under Construction

On the marketing committee I am working to find people to join us and fill the remaining 6 apartments.  It’s fascinating to talk to potential members as they try to understand this co-housing concept.  They pay us repeated visits to decide if they want to spend the rest of their lives with us.  They finally take the decision and pitch in.

We do not really know what it will be like to live at Wolf Creek Lodge.  We are working hard with our new friends to make it happen and having both fun and challenges along the way.

Bob Miller is currently a ski bum in Truckee, California.  Born in England of an English mother and a Scottish father, he moved to Scotland at the age of 11.  After graduating from Glasgow University with a degree in Physics he married Claire, started a family, and moved to the Boston area in 1978.  Bob’s career was in the computer industry.  Since his retirement, he moved with Claire to Truckee.  Besides skiing, he rides his road bike and hikes in the Sierras.

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Every autumn, it’s the same thing: it takes me a while to get used to the idea that all the leaves will fall from the trees, it’s going to get cold, and winter is coming.

I have never lived in a place where there were NOT four seasons, so why does it come as a shock each and every year?

Maybe it’s simply because I don’t like to be cold!

Here’s a joke that I find funny ever time I read it:

On a small iceberg, somewhere near the North Pole, a little bear goes up to his mother and asks, “Mom, what kind of bear am I?”

“You are a polar bear, son,” replies his mother.

“Are you sure I am not a brown bear?” he asks.

.

“Quite sure, son,” she replies, “you are a polar bear.”

But the little bear is not satisfied. “Mom,” he says, “maybe I am a grizzly bear?”

“What are you asking these questions for, son?” asks his mother. “You are a polar bear.”

So the little bear walks across the iceberg to his father.

“Pop,” he says, “am I a panda bear?”

“No, son,” says the father, “you are a polar bear.”

“Not a koala bear?” asks the baby bear.

“No, you are a polar bear,” says his father. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Because,” moans the little bear, “I’m cold!”

So postponing the inevitable is why I like to have as many Zinnia’s around me as possible.  They seem to continue to bloom and flower until the first hard frost, which around here can be in November.  They require nothing more than putting some seed in the ground once the Spring frosts are behind, and then continue to sow some in little corners until mid-Summer.  Oh, and deadhead when needed, saving the spent flowers to use for next year’s blooms.

Remembering to do this is not hard, once you’ve experienced the joy of their colorful blooms.

Wishing you Well,

Sadhvi

Zinnias from a few days ago!

JANE

1) I feel old.  My hair is gray, and there are wrinkles around my eyes and mouth.

2) I will never be a child prodigy on the guitar.

3) The white hairs on my chin might scare young children.

4) I will never win an Olympic gold medal in Volleyball, unless it’s a special competition or old farts.

5) My husband is looking a little older, too.

6) I need more sleep than I used to.

7) I can’t remember anything, especially not anything that happened recently.

People in the South say “Yes, Ma’am to me” and sometimes give me that “what a cute  little lady” look.

9) My parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents—all the people who inhabited my childhood world, and even ruled over it—are gone.  I will never see them again, and my children don’t even remember most of them.

10) My hands are starting to look like my mother’s hands.

PRO’S:

1) I am a much better judge of character than I was in my twenties and thirties.

2) My husband still looks younger than most people his age.  In fact, strangers think he’s my younger brother.

3) So what if I can’t remember anything?!  Unlike members of the younger generations, my life is preserved in diaries, postcards, letters, love letters, even telegrams—not an e-mail or text message in the bunch—and photo albums with actual pictures on paper (although there is a definite shortage of these starting with the year we purchased our first digital camera).

4) My children are no longer teenagers, at least 3 out of 4.  They are also full-grown (or close enough) and capable of surviving without their parents.

5) I know what I like/don’t like, who I am/am not, who I don’t ever want to be.  I’m past agonizing over my identity or beliefs.  My needs are simple: good people, good food, good laughs–and good sleep.

6) I have the courage to speak my mind out loud (that one took longer than some of the others), and I have great friends  (and 3 great sisters) who seem to value that.

7) I do not ever have to Tweet on Twitter, if I don’t want to—and I don’t want to.

8) I’m past being embarrassed about much.  (Old Fart volleyball tryouts, here I come!)

9) I know that life is too short to waste on any of the following:  t.v. ads, committee meetings, red lights after 12 midnight, liver, and cleaning my house more than absolutely necessary to prevent the spread of disease.

10) I always wanted to have hands like my mother’s, where you can see the veins.  To me, they looked like the picture of love and nurturing and hard work.

12)  I actually like my gray hair and laugh lines—it took hard work to earn them both.

13) I never wanted to be a child prodigy anyway.  It was too much fun playing “Kick the Can” or “Sardines” all summer.

Turns out the Pro’s outnumber the Con’s!  Who knew?!!!

Annice and founder, Corinna

The 7th annual SE Women’s Herbal Conference

What a great week-end I had at the 7^th annual Southeast Women’s Herbal Conference in Asheville, NC.  This year, was the biggest conference ever, almost 900 women gathered to learn, connect, and deepen into the Wise Woman Tradition… earth-based healing, local plants, & deep nourishment.  Those of you who know me, know I’m not an herbalist but I tend to use herbs and natural products as my first line of defense when I feel something coming on.  This conference brought together such an amazing group of healers, and not only did I get to attend this year, but the organizers invited me to monitor the Embodiment track.  There were 8 incredible classes ranging from Shadow Work; Making Peace with your Body; Our Predatory Nature; and the Power of the Drum.  Let me just say that listening (and dancing) to over 100 women learning to drum was phenomenal, and these women practically brought the tent down.

What I loved most about the class was the teacher, Kristen Arant, who runs a non-profit in Washington, D. C. called the Young Women’s Drumming Empowerment Project which helps promote self-esteem in young women.  Now why didn’t anything like that exist when I was growing up?

President Obama visits Asheville

So, after an inspiring week-end, I was given a ticket to attend Obama’s kick-off speech in Asheville to promote his “Jobs Act” bus tour. What amazed me was that after living in D.C. for 20 years, I could still get excited about seeing the President and shaking his hand.  I know North Carolina is a battleground state, but hey, he won it before, and it ain’t over till it’s over.

MAXINE'S JOHN WAGNER

Maxine can still crack me up.  Like her, there was always someone around in the family who called a spade a spade.  In the “politically correct” times we’ve been living in, and now, where EVERYTHING IS AWESOME, I can appreciate Maxine’s character even more.  Because most of the people who used to be like her are gone.  And I know I should watch Jon Stewart, but I don’t have a TV.

The other day while at the market, I saw a young girl, maybe 11 or 12 years old, hugging a colorful book to her chest.  I asked her if I could see the title of the book.  It was, The Book of Awesome.  Her mother was behind her, and I asked what the book was about?  She said that every kid is reading it, and her daughter just loves it.  Nothing wrong with love, but this book even has its own Wikipedia page.  Now how weird is that?  What a peculiar thing, that there is a book written for people to read, about things like:

Snow Days, Bakery Air, Finding Money in Your Pocket and Other Simple, Brilliant Things

I wonder what Maxine is gonna have to say about it?

Hey, I might actually read this New York Times bestseller and start to wear a t-shirt with the cover on the front, and start carrying the book around, hugging it!

So who is the person behind Maxine’s character?  The following is taken from the Hallmark website:

John Wagner, Hallmark artist since 1970, says Maxine was inspired by his mother, his maiden aunts and his grandmother, the woman who bought him art lessons when “fill in the pumpkins” was about the extent of his art classes at St. John ‘s Catholic School in Leonia, New Jersey.

When Hallmark launched the Shoebox card line back in 1986, nobody knew that the crabby character gracing the covers of a few cards would become a celebrity.  It didn’t take long for Maxine’s irreverent quips about aging, the workplace, retirement, political correctness, and of course sex (or the lack of it) had struck a cord.

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“If Maxine can get a laugh out of someone who feels lonely or someone who is getting older and hates the thought of another birthday, or if she can make someone chuckle about stressful interpersonal relationships, then I’m happy.  Putting a smile on someone’s face is what it’s all about.”

Why the name ‘Maxine’?

“People at Shoebox started referring to the character as “John Wagner’s old lady”, and I knew that would get me into trouble with my wife,” John says.  So the Shoebox team had a contest among themselves to name the character and three of the approximately 30 entries suggested “Maxine”.   John says the name is perfect.  He’s also humbled by such acceptance of Maxine, and admits he’s proud of her.

So now you know!

Enjoy,

Sadhvi

JANE

This news came on a day when we had not heard anything from Becky for a while, since she was traveling with friends to South Africa, so she wasn’t anywhere near a computer—and her phone had no service.  I didn’t think I could stand it, but I had to wait another two or three days before I could actually hear from Becky in person that  1) she was alive 2) she had a fabulous time in South Africa and 3) yes, she was indeed standing less than a foot away from the rogue Great White when it rammed the protective cage, pushing through the bars with its teeth.  According to their guide, that sort of thing “has never happened before.”  He was totally shocked that it happened this time.  Becky said it was “awesome,” since she could see its teeth—and could have put her whole arm down its mouth if she’d wanted to!

Needless to say, I’m having difficulty having my girl so far away this year.  The bleak reality – that hits me in the middle of the night or at times when she is sick or hurts her leg or loses her phone—is that 1) I can’t get to her quickly 2) I can’t get her home quickly 3) I can’t think about what might or might not be happening to her, since I can’t do a damn thing about it.

A few days after her computer died, she lost her phone.

So, for the past few weeks,  we have had no way to reach her in an emergency—no link to her sweet self.  I suppose that, if we had to, we could call the University of Botswana’s International Students Office—and they would track her down.  I think of that sort of thing when I’m thinking logically, but, I must admit, that doesn’t happen very often.   What happens instead is raw panic—usually in the middle of the night—that 1) she is sick with the flu 2) she has lost her passport  3) she’s in an African jail for bumping another car in traffic (this actually almost happened!).

My sister said that the best thing I can do this year is to try to put Becky on a shelf in my head, a nice, safe, little shelf where I can always imagine her safe and sound and healthy and happy.  So, that’s what I’m  trying to do.  I recommend it to anyone sending a student abroad:  it usually works during the daytime, at least.  I also recommend giving your son or daughter the request I gave to Becky, “Next time you decide to do something like go underwater to look for Great White Sharks, please don’t tell me about it until after you are back safe and sound in your dorm room (read, “on your safe little shelf”).

Lynne

Our guest blogger, Lynne Roche Matthews, grew up in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio and went on to study at Kent State University.  After college, she worked in the hospitality industry for over 29 years.  She moved to upstate New York in 1990 and became Vice President for the motorcoach tour & charter company she and her late husband owned until retiring to Punta Gorda, Florida in 2001.  She now spends her time volunteering for the yacht club, chairing the PR & Marketing Committee, and the annual Bridal Expo.  She also is active in city politics, serving on the Planning Commission and Board of Zoning Appeals.  In her spare time, she loves to go boating, read, travel and shop.  AND, she just got married this past Saturday and looks forward to many new life adventures with her new husband.

Thanks to my High School Reunion, I reconnected with Lynne after 40 years.  And, by the way, if you’re going to a reunion any time soon,  just pray you have someone like uber-planner, Lynne, running your event.  This woman knows how to have fun!  After our reunion, I asked Lynne to write a blog post about her experience locating all our classmates and what it all meant to her.  Here is her story.

Annice in 1967

I recently had the wonderful opportunity to chair my 40^th high school reunion, reconnecting with so many great friends that I had lost contact with back in the day.  It was truly an inspirational weekend after planning it for almost two years.  I got on the plane to return home to Florida, only to see one of my classmates, Annice, who had also been at the party, so we sat together on the flight and talked non-stop for a couple of hours.  It was great fun just catching up with each others lives.  So she told me about this blog she started with some friends of hers, and one thing led to another…well you know how these things happen.

When asked to write a blog for Oops50, I started thinking of all the things I could write about.  I’ve often thought about writing a book about some of the crazier things in my life, but I just never had enough time to do ii…ah yes, TIME.  That evil four letter word.  If only I had TIME.  It made me think of something that really stood out in my mind, something that I wish I had made the time for.

Reunion Fun

When I first started working on the reunion a couple of years ago, I discovered a classmate (Roberta) who lived just 5 miles from me, here in Florida.  So after almost 40 years, here we were, almost 1000 miles from where we grew up, living the good life in sunny Florida.  After a couple of months of knowing she was so close, I called her one day (it blew her away), we laughed, we cried and found each other again.

I had already found another one of my BFF’s from high school (Barb) just a few miles away, and she and I have gotten together frequently over the past 10 years to have lunch every month or two.  So we made arrangements for the three of us to meet for lunch.  Here’s where the “if only” comes in.

Roberta announced to me she had just come through a rather intense session of chemo, having a rough round with ovarian cancer.  What a true trooper she was, braver than most, and she was doing well.  Sporting a beautiful wig and her ever present smile, she arrived, nervous as all get out, but we quickly settled in for a wonderful lunch and conversation.  We did the same thing several other times since, hooking up with other classmates I found nearby (there are 17 of us here in SW Florida), and had a wonderful time reconnecting everyone.

There was to be a group dinner with spouses back in late winter of 2011, and she opted out, saying her husband was out of town on business.  And then she cancelled out on a girl’s day lunch.  Well I think you know where THIS is going.  I had a bad feeling, but I just didn’t follow up on it.  And then I got the call from her husband…she had succumbed to that evil disease in May.  I hated myself for not doing what I knew I should have done, but I also know she wouldn’t want anyone to dwell on the illness.  She kept it very private, and that’s the way she wanted it.  But it was way too soon to see her go, and I will always second guess myself for not doing better at keeping in touch.

That's Roberta next to Lynne

I’ve mourned the loss of my dear friend, Roberta, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret waiting to get in touch with this beautiful, kind soul.  It just proves that there’s no time like the present – don’t leave this place we call earth with any regrets, and don’t wait to reach out to those who mean something to you.

If only I had started sooner, I would have had more time to spend with her, and maybe, just maybe I could have helped her get through the times when she really needed me to be there for her.  I know she loved that we reconnected, and she loved the time we spent together.  I just wish there had been more of those times.  So RIP sweet Roberta – I will miss your beautiful smile always, and I’ll see you on the other side.  Dance like no one’s watching ladies – you never know what’s around the corner!

FATIMAH'

I enjoy sharing women that are interesting and Fatimah’ is one of those women.  I recently met her to ask some questions in order for you to get to know her better.  She is so into music and has her own website where she is the DJ.  Finding out that we both listened to Matt the Cat and Kid Leo on WMMS, the home of the Buzzard, back in the glory days of rock in the 70′s was actually not a surprise…

What was the name of the first record you ever bought?

I remember it well…it was “Think”, by James Brown and The Famous Flames.  This song made me dance, and I love dancing.

Who was your favorite female singer while growing up?

It was “Esther Phillips”. Esther’s voice is sultry & unique.  Take a listen…

What is the one thing you have to put on that makes you feel good about leaving the house?

I have to say, it’s an essential oil called “Ylang Ylang” and I only use the one from the company, Young Living.  It makes me feel empowered, seductive, creative, and magnetic.

What is your favorite comfort food?

It’s either Ben & Jerry’s or Haagen Daz’s Butter Pecan ice cream, or, this Greek Honey Vanilla yogurt that I get at the health food store.

What’s your favorite and least favorite thing about being over 50?

If there was anything that is my least favorite thing about being over 50, I guess it would be that I don’t have the physical strength and tenacity that I used to have: I don’t last like I used to!  But my favorite things are I feel more conscious, more aware, and feel like I have wisdom.

What is your most favorite thing to do that is “creative”?

Dancing, singing, drumming, storytelling: I love them all!

Do you feel optimistic about the future?  And, what keeps you going?

Oh yes.  I do feel optimistic about the future!  And what keeps me going are the possibilities.  The unknown.  The trusting.  And the knowing.

What is part of your daily routine that makes you feel good?

I have a internet TV Station, “One Outrageous place on the Internet” ‘Shabazz 7777‘  WRNU Internet TV.

Check it out by clicking here: http://www.viewerone.com/channels/wrnu

I get such a good feeling and so much enjoyment while selecting the music or Informative Documentaries for each show, knowing that those good vibes are being passed along and shared; that is something that I love to do!  Tune in from 7pm – 7am every day to feel it!

SADHVI

I had a lot of Basil plants that I’ve been using in salads all summer long…if you keep pinching back the plant, and never let it start to flower, it becomes very bushy and full.  Which means, more Basil!  Notice how I capitalize the word: Basil.  It’s like a good friend, and I cannot imagine my life without it.

The other day I heard someone say it’s going to get cold, so I harvested all of my plants to make my version of “pesto”, knowing that with just one cold night, all that lovely taste inside those leaves would be gone, and therefore wasted.  I never really FEEL like doing these kinds of things, I just somehow start to move in that direction, and IT happens on it’s own.  I must have it in me from my Slovenia grandma or something. Or maybe from my other grandma, Mabel Carter?  Both women had gardens, sewed their family’s clothes, and both put food up for the winter months.

ONE OF SADHVI'S PAINTINGS

So I got out my Cuisinart food processor, started to pluck Basil leaves (never stems), added olive oil and a little salt, and then blended until I got the consistency that makes it pourable into clean glass jars, labeled them, and voila!  A base for pesto that will last a long, long time if it’s kept covered with olive oil, and in the back of the fridge.  Just let it sit for an hour or so, to make sure the olive oil comes to the top to “seal” it, which preserves it.

SADHVI'S BASIL HARVEST

I had grown hundreds of pots of different types of Basil my first year that I started to garden, way back in the spring of ’94.  I had never gardened before that.  I was too busy with my “life”.

Then we got into a terrible car accident, and I slowed down.

And started to paint and to garden.

I didn’t know how to do either before the accident.

That first year I grew Thai Basil, I grew Purple Basil, I grew maybe 10 different types of Basil.  And you know what?  I only grow 2 types nowadays.  The Genovese Basil and the Greek Basil.  The other ones are interesting, but really, I don’t waste my energy on them, because the taste is only in those 2 I grow!

After harvesting all those different types of Basil that first year, I mixed them with garlic and pine nuts and olive oil and salt and put the mixture in sterilized glasses.  Much to my horror, after a month in the fridge, they were all moldy and had to be composted – my heart almost broke in two!  All that work for nothing.  Well, being the type of person that has to make a big mistake the first time I do something, I’ve since been told how to do it the right way.

BASIL, OLIVE OIL, SALT!

So here’s a very simple way of preserving Basil from Martina, my Swiss-Italian girlfriend.

Martina told me to never add the garlic and the nuts.  Only do that when I am making the meal, she said.  This is the way her Italian grandmother taught her and I’ve been doing it this way every single year since, which makes this year my 15th year.

1.  Take a big pot and fill with water and bring to boil and then add the pasta.

2.  While that’s cooking, take a big mixing bowl and spoon out some of the “Basil, Olive Oil and Salt” into it.  Let it sit on the counter for a while, and then, take a paper towel and wipe the sides of the inside of the jar, removing any of the mix, and make sure it’s covered with some olive oil; not a lot.

3.  Add some fresh-pressed garlic cloves and some chopped walnuts or pine nuts (or whatever nuts you have), and mix.

4.  Once the pasta is “al dente”, ladle out some of the water from the pot and mix in with “Basil, Oil, & Salt”/garlic/nut mix until it’s the way you like your sauce.

5.  Drain the pasta, rinse, and add to the mix and toss.

Grate lots of the best Italian Parmesan cheese you can afford, get a good bottle of red wine, put some Frank Sinatra music on, and maybe a candle or two, and savor the taste of summer, preserved!
p.s. if you want to see how other people make and preserve their pesto, Culinate, which is one of the food blogs that I subscribe to, shares their tips.  Just Click This!

Betsy

Originally from Canada, Betsy lives in upstate New York in the Catskill Mountains, with her cocker spaniel and two domestic long-haired cats.  She is very close to her two sons, both in their 20s.  Her family, 3 older brothers, their wives, children and grandchildren, still live in Nova Scotia.  An aspiring writer and stained glass artist who loves nature and the quiet rural life, Betsy currently teaches composition at the State College in Delhi, NY. 

Before I sat down to write this blog, I was totally stymied by where to begin.  It’s a long convoluted story that began more than 5 years ago, when my now 23-year-old son, Alexander, was diagnosed with schizophrenia.  And it hasn’t ended yet.  Perhaps I should begin at the end, which is to say, when it comes to mental health care in this country, beware!  Trust your gut about the quality of ‘subsidized’ treatments and if at all possible, pay for private care.

Alex has been hospitalized numerous times.  Each time was a crisis situation – delusions, psychoses, panic attacks – and each time he was patched up and sent home into my care, with minimal follow-up care at the county mental health clinic.  By minimal, I mean only once every two weeks or so.

The county mental health professionals were clearly operating on their own agenda and enjoying the self-imposed power they possess by being the only gig in town (we live in a very rural area).  I can’t even add up the number of hours Alex spent meeting with counselors, with the ONE AND ONLY psychiatrist (who wielded his prescription capabilities like any good autocratic dictator) and with psychiatric nurses, only to be told that he should practice deep breathing during a panic attack, or take Benadryl for insomnia–all the while denying him a medication that was helpful because they didn’t think it was needed.  It was their way or the highway.

Alex, being more intelligent than any of them, had his own ideas.  He began self-medicating himself with alcohol,  in order to get relief.  So here I was dealing with erratic behavior in my son, who was unable to find any relief for his very painful mental health issues.  At one point, out of sheer desperation, I reached out to the county people for help.  I felt Alex needed medical attention, but I couldn’t convince him to come with me to the hospital.  The county people told me they could arrange a “pick up”.  I thought this would be a good idea, as I envisioned a county nurse or some other sympathetic person who would come and, with professional care and sensitivity, convince Alex to go with her.  Instead, two burly policemen came to the door and insisted that Alex be cuffed and placed in the back of their unmarked (oh how sensitive of them) cruiser.  I was horrified.  They had no patience with him, and they threatened him into compliance.  This episode eroded Alex’s faith in the helpful nature of these ‘systems’ in place and shook his trust in me.

When he was admitted to the ER at the nearest trauma center, they had no beds.  According to rules, he had to stay in the ER until a bed could be found somewhere – anywhere – in New York State.  Finally, close to midnight, about 5 hours after he was admitted, they found a bed in Saratoga Springs– about two and a half hours away.  He was transported by ambulance there, where he stayed for the minimum of 4 days, while a doctor who didn’t know him from Adam, diagnosed him with paranoid schizophrenia and sent him back to be followed up with our illustrious county mental health people.

The best thing we ever did was to finally give up on the freebies and hire private care.  This has not been easy.  But it was worth the effort.  Alex is currently stable and improving.  He has a long road ahead of him, managing this kind of illness, but there’s no accounting for feeling well.  As for me?  I’m taking it one day at a time.  Hope springs eternal.

If anyone else should find themselves in this situation, I would say listen to your instincts!  I think we knew early on that the county people were not going to be able to help him, but somehow it just seemed easier and cheaper–at the time–to continue.

Sue Counts

My friend, Sue Counts, retired three years ago as the Director of the North Carolina Cooperative Extension in Watauga County after more than 40 years in government.  During her tenure, Sue initiated educational programs in the areas of sustainable tourism, sustainable energy, Hispanic outreach, and women in agriculture.  Sue says, “At this point in my life, I’m seeking a better life for the Baby Boomers who are entering that stage of their lives known as ‘the senior years’.”  So, when Dene Peterson, the founder of ElderSpirit Community came to Boone a few weeks ago to talk about her life’s work, Sue was there attending meetings about the possibility of creating such a community in Watauga County, NC.  She graciously shares important information on “Retirement Housing.”

IT’S OFFICIAL!  We are now in the “ERA OF THE GOLDEN BOOMERS!”.  On January 1, 2011 the very first Baby Boomer turned 65, and 10,000 boomers will turn 65 every day for the next 19 years.  This gigantic generation has transformed America as they have passed through every stage of life…..and housing for the elderly will not be any exception.

It's Official

Co-housing communities if you will!  These communities bring together the value of private homes with the benefits of more sustainable living.  That means common facilities and good connections with neighbors.  All in all, they stand as innovative answers to today’s environmental and social problems.

According to Charles Durrett, author of Senior Cohousing Handbook — 2nd Edition, A Community Approach to Independent Living, “No matter how rich life is in youth and middle age, the elder years can bring on increasing isolation and loneliness as social connections lessen, especially if friends and family members move away.  Senior co-housing fills a niche for this demographic — the healthy, educated and proactive adults who want to live in a social and environmentally vibrant community.  These seniors are already wanting to ward off the aging process, so they are unlikely to want to live in assisted housing.  Senior co-housing revolves around custom-built neighborhoods organized by the seniors themselves in order to fit in with their real needs, wants, and aspirations for health, longevity and quality of life.”

Elderspirit Community

The ElderSpirit Community at Trailview in Abingdon, Virginia is the living example of a community of mutual support and late life spirituality.  It is the first mixed-income, mixed ownership Elder Co-Housing Community in the United States and in this capacity it is making its way as it “walks the talk.”  The founder of ElderSpirit Community is Geraldine “Dene” Peterson, a “spry” woman in her 80’s who recently received the “Lifetime Achievement Award” at the 2011 National Cohousing Conference in Washington, DC.

Dene Peterson

At eighteen, Dene  Peterson left her parents and ten siblings to join a convent. She ultimately chose to leave the religious order, but her spirituality remained deeply rooted. In 1995, at age 65, she created the ElderSpirit Community in Abingdon, Virginia. Inspired by a Danish model, Peterson wanted to form a co-housing retirement community that would allow friends to live together in a collaborative and supportive setting while also offering some of the autonomy of private dwellings.  Peterson also envisioned an alternative to institutional long-term care, a place where community members would have the emotional support of their peers as well as the necessary medical assistance to live out their lives at home.  Using a creative patchwork of funding from public and private resources, Peterson raised $3.5 million, and her vision materialized.  Construction of the 29 residences, common community building, and a prayer room was completed in late spring of 2006 and houses both the moderate and low-income.  The model has gained national attention, and an ElderSpirit outreach extension program in now helping to plan similar communities in Florida, North Carolina, Ohio, Kansas, and Virginia.

The ElderSpirit Community is dedicated to making possible new opportunities for Elders in the 21st Century.  The ElderSpirit Community values are: To live in a community of diverse spiritual paths; To give and receive support in relationship with neighbors in community; To belong to a community who make the decisions on how they will live together; and To encourage each other to live simply and care for the earth.

SADHVI

There’s a lot of time and money spent on face creams.  Both by us women, and in advertising dollars.  To make us look younger, flawless…perfect!  Just pick up any magazine while you’re waiting to check out at the grocery store and flip through the pages.  The beautiful faces that look at you are simply stunning, aren’t they?

As I see myself getting older, I’ve noticed that there has been the thought that if I get this or that face cream, I will look like I did when I was younger, or at the very least, better.  I have tried samples of Estee Lauder and felt like I’ve been putting something with silicon on my face.  Interesting, but too weird.  I’ve tried Lancome, and nearly got knocked out by the strong perfumed scent.  I’ve tried Chanel and Guerlain, and could not justify the price tag.  Then I thought the drugstore products, like Roche or L’Oreal would be good.  They stung my face, and smelled too strongly of synthetic perfume.

I’ve been big into the natural and organic movement since the ’70′s, way before big companies got interested in the movement, and bought most of them out.  Those were the days when being a vegetarian was considered very odd…cult-ish even!

WILD SAGE BOTANICALS Rose Geranium Face Lotion

So I just wanted to let you know that one of my 2 favorite face creams* is made by Wild Sage Botanicals.  Every product is hand-made by Garima, the woman behind this very cool “company”.  I think I have to say that again:  every product is made in small batches, by hand, by Garima!  With most of the herbs from her own garden. Pretty incredible, really.  With wonderful smells that are euphoric and make me happy.  Wild Sage’s Rose Geranium Face Lotion is my pick for the best moisturizer for my skin.  Check out Garima’s site and see if you don’t just love her products.  She has drawn all the plants and things on the site herself too.  And her prices are very affordable.  Which is so important these days when most of us are watching every penny that we spend.

If you do happen to order some of Garima’s products, please let me know.  I wonder if you will become a loyal fan like I have been for the past 20 years!?  When something is good, I don’t think you have to shout it from the top of a mountain – you just know.

And if you have a few moments, check out this informative clip below.  I think we need a little reminder on why the stuff that is being mass-marketed and fed to us, and readily available is not something that we want to buy!

 *P.S.:  The other face cream that I use is one that is not available for sale, yet!  It’s made by a close friend of mine,  in small batches, and it is what I call, “The Perfect Cream”.  It’s based on a recipe by one of my favorite herbalists, Rosemary Gladstar.  It smells like a bouquet of roses (real ones), and it goes in and makes my skin feel so good.  I keep saying she should sell it.  Maybe one day she will…  I will let you know.  

Reeta Wolfsohn

Nationally known motivational speaker Reeta Wolfsohn, CMSW, is founder of the Financial Social Work discipline and a therapist, author and popular expert for magazines/websites, on money from a psycho-social perspective.  Reeta’s work helps people take control of their money and lives. 

The Center for Financial Social Work offers certification programs for social workers/non-social workers and a dynamic website with a Learning Center and forums that educate, motivate and support sustainable, long-term financial behavioral change.  We recently interviewed Reeta about her work and her life:

1) Define financial social work, as you put it into practice.
Financial Social Work is designed to help people to begin the journey to sustainable, long-term financial behavioral change.  It is an interactive, introspective approach which provides insight into how and why you are in your current financial circumstances and then connects you to where you want to be in the future.  This process allows the creation and completion of a success plan and strategy which is the foundation for a better financial future.
2) Tell us a little bit about how you came to do the work you are doing.

I had my own special events company in NY for 18 years and then returned to graduate school to earn my master’s degree in social work. In graduate school, women’s issues was the topic of my master’s thesis and eventually led me to create the word “Femonomics” and the Femonomics Institute, in 1997.  For me, the definition of the word “Femonomics” is “the gender of money” (based on the fact that women earn less, are traditionally charged more–for products and services–and because women live longer they make up 75% of the elderly living below the poverty line.)  In 2003,  the popularity of my work made it less gender-specific and much more geared to behavioral change, as it became obvious that:  Until and Unless Behavior Changes – NOTHING Changes. That is when it became Financial Social Work and the Center for Financial Social Work.  However, Femonomics holds a very special place in my heart and in my work.

3) What is the most gratifying part of your work?

The work I do fulfills me on every level.  Having the opportunity to help people take control of their money and their lives and knowing how much that can improve every aspect of their future makes all of the time and work I put in worthwhile.

4) What is the greatest frustration?

In these very difficult economic times,  there is an ever growing need for services but an ever diminishing availability.  I am also frustrated at not being able to reach more people with the message that there is always HOPE; it is NEVER too late to improve your financial future.

5) How do you think this work has changed your own life?

My work is my passion and my mission in life.  It doesn’t feel like work because it means so much to me.  Except for spending time with my two-year-old twin grandchildren (Hannah & Robert), I am either writing, teaching, training, keynoting, etc., about the psychosocial aspects of money.

The Center has certified hundreds and hundreds of men and women across the US and in other countries to do Financial Social Work.  Knowing that my work is helping our graduates to help their clients create personal awareness and growth as well as to increase their financial knowledge is an incredibly powerful feeling–which keeps me doing all I can to find new and better ways to help more people.

6) If you had to give women over 50 just 2 pieces of financial advice,
what would they be?

 1.  Make friends with your money and allow it to nurture you, rather than to control your happiness or sense of self.

2.  Every small step you take in the direction of a better financial future moves you in the right direction, so allow your small steps to add up and to facilitate your journey to financial behavioral change.

Membership at http://www.financialsocialwork.com/ is FREE, and it delivers daily financial education, motivation and support e-mails to your inbox that can help you stay focused and enthusiastic about taking control of your money and your life.  Like financialsocialwork on Facebook and follow Reeta on twitter@FinancialMSW.

Annice

Last winter was long, cold and miserable.  It’s one winter I want to forget.  I spent months taking care of my husband (after he fell on ice and had to have a hip replacement) and feeling sorry for myself.  When Spring finally arrived, it brought my father’s passing followed by the death of both my dogs within three months of each other.  At long last, I received some good news.  I was gifted one full week in a writer’s residency program at the glorious Wild Acres Retreat Center in the North Carolina mountains.  Their website says, “The program allows individuals the solitude and inspiration needed to begin or continue work on a project in their particular field.”  And so, from Sept. 5-12^th, I stayed at the Owl’s Nest Cabin, tucked away in the mountains to work on my novel without any interruptions – none.  No distractions – none.  No T.V., no cell phone service, no internet, and no iPod.  It was just me, my laptop, my yoga mat, and 23 chapters of my book needing to be revised.  

As if that wasn’t cool enough, I also didn’t have to spend time preparing any meals, or cleaning or washing anything.  I didn’t have to be concerned about anyone other than myself.  How often does that happen?

SEE ANNICE WRITE

I was pretty much off the grid (without a car) and had to hike ¼ mile up to the main campus for my meals.  No big deal.  However, I was a little alarmed about a few things such as critters in my room and hunters on the gravel road near my cabin with their barking dogs.  You see, it’s bear hunting season in the mountains, and while I don’t want to be judgmental regarding a tradition that is centuries old, I am disturbed to know that folks are still out there hunting bears.  I mean, what for?

NOT MY HAND

As for critters, I had a ring-neck snake in my cabin which I managed to get out without killing it.  How did I know it was a ring-neck snake?  When I described it to people at lunch, they informed me that’s what it was.  I don’t like snakes, but I survived that crisis and moved on to another crisis, a yoga crisis.

When I left my house, I grabbed the September issue of the Yoga Journal  in case I needed it.  So, while I was patting myself on the back for progressing so well on my revision, I put myself in a funk practicing Hanumanasana (full splits).  Well, I knew it wasn’t an easy pose and certainly not one I ever practice out of class, but hey, I figured in a week I would make some progress- NOT.  So, frustration paid me a long visit that week, thanks to my greedy self wanting immediate results.   It’s amazing how we can find things to be discouraged about even when we don’t have to.  Once again, my mat teaches me a lesson.  I guess a yoga retreat is in order next.

YES SHE CAN!

SADHVI

It’s almost Fall – again.  I find myself going through the pantry, going through my closets, taking stock of things.

I am also making decisions on what I am willing to put up with for the sake of “keeping up” with the seemingly never-ending, new (and expensive) ways to be in touch and connected.

Yes, menopause is the reason, and yes, it is the only thing I can think about right in this moment that I like about it.  Having weird hormones in funny places makes it easy to weed things out that don’t make sense in my life.

If Facebook, and texting, and tweeting, and Linkedin, and Google+, and Pinterest, and of course, emailing and phones weren’t enough wonderful ways to “keep in touch” these days, I personally don’t think any more will help.

It’s kind of interesting, the range and extremes of what people are doing these days with all these ways of connecting.

For instance, I meet people who can’t imagine living without their computer.  Really.  And from the sound of their voice, I believe them.  I had several conversations with friends who ask me, how can I not text?  To which I answer, how can you possibly?  I don’t have kids, so that seems to be the major deciding factor.  I asked one Mom recently why she texted?  And she told me that it’s the only way to communicate with them.  Hmm.

LATE SUMMER MORNING DRIVE VIEW

On the other hand, I hear friends say things like, “I can’t do Facebook any more – it just sucks too much of my time”.  Or, “I can’t do Linkedin, it’s too much.”  I even have a few friends who have taken a big step and just deleted all their “InBox” and “Sent” messages in their main email account (the other ones they don’t even check!)!  Wow.  I often imagine doing that, but I just can’t.  I asked how it felt when they did that, and they said it felt really, really good.  Hmm.  Some of my younger friends don’t even have a cell phone.  They tell me they can’t afford one.  Double hmm.

There seems to be all levels and extremes in this new world regime where technology rules all of us in some way or another.

I am not into “keeping up” with it all any more.  I returned my “awesome” iPhone a few weeks ago and feel less irritated in general because I can actually HEAR what others are saying on my simple LG phone.  It’s not a smart phone, and believe me, it doesn’t have to be!  I feel like I was smart in giving it back though.  I already have to go through almost 200 emails every day so why would I want to have them downloaded on my phone?

When I asked my Mac friend if he really, really, likes his iPhone, as a PHONE, and he said, “Well, no, it’s so much more than a phone.”  I repeated the question, and he said, “Well, no, there are lots of better phones out there.”  Geez!

I am not against technology.  I use it.  I need a computer for work.  I enjoy flittering in and out of FaceBook.  I like YouTube.  I just don’t want to add anything more!

I wonder how many of us are getting tired of all this technology that seems to be more troublesome and time-consuming than it’s worth?

SUSUN WEED

I create space and balance by being in the garden, and taking walks with my dog.  Or baking.  Or writing letters.  So as long as I can keep the balance, all is well.

Here’s a clip below that I saw recently from Susun Weed, on how to make an easy vinegar to help us with Fall allergies, using Goldenrod.  I didn’t know that Goldenrod was such a powerful herb.  I just thought it was beautiful to look at. My Goldenrod is just starting to open, and I will make some.

Well that’s it from me this week.

Happy Fall!

SADHVI

I know some folks who have had everything taken away from them recently.  They live in Pennsylvania.  Where there was an earthquake, a tropical storm, and now heavy rains and flooding that has hit their area in the last couple of weeks.  It’s unreal.

I know a young family who live in Japan.  Dealing moment to moment with the reality of nuclear contamination in their food system, their water, and themselves.

I don’t watch TV.  But I cannot help be connected to people.  People that I care about.  And sometimes, it just gets to me.

I’ve always loved music.  From playing the flute to singing hymns in church to Christmas carols, music has always taken me away.  During these days when things seem intense and topsy-turvy, singing is a good thing.  And singing along to a song that you love is exactly what is the cure for what I got.  I leave you with one of my favorite songs written by one of my favorite songwriters, John Prine.  This one is sung by Bonnie Raitt with Jackson Browne (By the way Mr. Browne, my marriage proposal still stands).

JANE

I have a pair of new red shoes from a company that I want to highly recommend to our readers.  I didn’t think I’d ever write again about shoes, especially red ones, but I can’t help it.  I love my wonderful new shoes, “filled with millions of tiny air bubbles”  from a British company called Hotter Shoes.

They approached us at Oops50 recently and asked if we would like to try out a pair of their shoes, and of course I agreed to be a guinea pig—who wouldn’t want a new pair of shoes with the emphasis on comfort, right?  I was a little worried though, that I might be signing up for what our mothers would have called “comfortable shoes.”  You know the type: big, wide shoes with thick soles that come in either white or black.  Well, I went tho their site and was pleasantly surprised; the shoes looked good, but they actually look even better in person.

Jane's New Hotter Shoes!

These are not ugly, comfort shoes of the variety worn by old ladies with bunions.  These are stylish and comfortable shoes—to tell you the truth, I didn’t believe those two words could go together.  And even though the company’s name brought immediately to mind the movie, “Kinky Boots,” while there is nothing kinky going on, these are definitely hot shoes!

They come in all kinds of different designs.  And they are incredibly comfortable.  No aches and pains.  No sore toes.  And, they come in wide sizes without looking wide.  Check out their site, and if you order a pair, do let me know if you agree with me.  And if you have a moment or two, let me know what your most comfortable shoe is, Ok?

Annice

Every August for the last four years, a group of us (women over 50) spend the day on one of the most beautiful lakes in this country.

OUR LAKE

Hope you don’t mind if I don’t share the name of that beautiful pristine lake in Tennessee, but we just don’t want all the tourists coming with their loud motor boats, radios, etc.  Even though we only spend one day on the lake, it becomes an event for us gals.  There is a core of us who embark on this journey every year, but sometimes friends drop out (usually because of family commitments) so others join in.  It’s always a surprise, and it always works out.

Why is this day so special for us women over 50?   It’s simple.  It gives us one day where we can leave behind all the demands of our families – kids, aging parents, husbands, partners, meals, laundry, and on and on.

TAKING OFF

For one full day, our fearless captain Gwen, steers our Pontoon Boat so we can  just “be.” For some of us, it’s an escape from the everyday hassles of computers and technology that

LIFE IS GOOD!

sometimes overwhelm our modern and crazy life.  It allows us to bathe our bodies in the cool freshwater of the lake and feel the chill on our skin when we get out.  It allows us to anticipate the taste of a slice of juicy cold watermelon after a piece of tangy barbecued chicken.  It’s a time to visit with each other without interruptions, and it’s a time to say good-by to summer and agree to plan two visits to the lake next year even though we all know it won’t happen.  It just is.

TOO MUCH FUN!

Jane

I heard a wonderful man being interviewed on NPR’s “On Being” yesterday morning.  His name is Vincent Harding, and he was an activist in the Civil Rights Movement.  He talked about how this country is still a “developing nation” when it comes to having a true “democratic encounter across real difference.”  He said that, maybe for the first time in its history, America is starting to have a national conversation about how we are going to make democracy work—and what that actually means, on a day-to-day basis, in a world where we have all different kinds of people, with different aims and different cultural backgrounds.  To describe the ultimate goal we should all be working toward, he used a term from the Bible, which Martin Luther King used:  the “beloved community.”  

Mr. Harding stressed how important it is to “love our children into new possibilities,” to teach our children to value things beyond material wealth or fame or prestige.  He talked about how important it is for children to grow up feeling that they are part of a larger community, one that that they feel responsible toward.  Our children need to know that they are capable of “being the creators of a new possibility for the whole nation.”  It is important for all of us to establish the “beloved community” if it is ever going to come about.   

In listening to Mr. Harding talk about the concept of a “beloved community,” I couldn’t help but think about our congresspeople fighting over the debt ceiling while there are children going hungry in cities right under their noses;  I thought about the tea party loyalists saying they would not raise taxes on the rich, under any circumstances, while our schools cannot pay our teachers a living wage; I thought about Latino teenagers being deported back to their parents’ country of origin, even though they have lived in the United States for as much of their lives as they can remember; and I thought about right-wing Christians who are so far removed from the teachings of Jesus that they discriminate against gays and teach a doctrine that says that people can only get into heaven if they live, act, dress, talk, exactly the way they do. 

Mr. Harding gave lots of examples of people across this country who are working in their neighborhood, their city, their region, to improve people’s lives.  I’d like to hear from our readers about people they know who are working hard, every day, to try to move us all toward a “beloved community.” 

To hear the original interview, go to http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2011/civility-history-hope/.

SADHVI

It’s been an intense time on the planet this past week.  Mercury is still retrograde, but will finally be going direct tomorrow.  Then there was an earthquake that was pretty severe on the east coast.  Whoa!  While we’re being told it’s not unusual, being from the east coast, I can say that it is.  And while I’m thinking about it, does anyone see any cause and effect with the incredible amount of high-powered blasting through the shale in the ground, otherwise known as fracking, to get to all that natural gas under the shale, in order to create a huge pipeline through some of the poorest areas of America, and this earthquake?

OH MORNING GLORY!

If you’ve clicked on the link to the word “earthquake” above, you will see an ad from Exxon-Mobil before the CNN clip, on the “safety” of fracking.  I know I felt better after watching some executive from that company tell me in a soft and smooth voice that it’s all done very safely.  I mean, how could blasting through shale with high-pressure, chemical-filled water (that is being taken from – where?) do anything to the earth.  I wonder if maybe Mother Nature is getting back.

Now there’s this huge, and in the words of  President Obama, “historical” hurricane Irene, that looks really scary that is about to hit the eastern coast.  I know, I know, we’re not supposed to talk about stuff like that…sorry!  It’s just kind of intense looking!

But it was also wonderfully thrilling to eat the first of the second batch of raspberries from my garden this week,  and the many very ripe figs off our tree (thank you Judi for your tip on how to increase the yield last fall – it worked!), to smell the intoxicating fragrance of the kudzu flowers, and roses still blooming.  And it’s always very good to spend time with our 11 hens, all named after my mom, Sally.

KUDZU FLOWER

HERITAGE RASPBERRY'S

INSIDE MY FIG TREE

And a good laugh is always welcome, so here’s a joke that I had never heard before, that cracked me up.

Enjoy!

Sadhvi

An old, blind cowboy wanders into an all-girl biker bar by mistake.  He finds his way to a bar stool and orders a shot of Jack Daniels.  After sitting there for a while, he yells to the bartender, “Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?” 

The immediate silence in the entire bar is almost tangible.  In a deep voice, the woman next to him says, “Before you tell that joke, Cowboy, I think it’s only fair, given that you are blind, that you should know a few things:

1.  The bartender is a blonde girl with a baseball bat.

2.  The bouncer is a blonde woman.

3.  I am 6 feet tall, weigh 195 pounds, and have a black belt in karate, and am a natural blonde.

4.  The woman sitting next to me is  blonde and is a professional weight lifter.  And lastly, the lady to your right is also blonde and a well-known professional wrestler.  Now, think about it for a moment, Cowboy, do you really want to tell that blonde joke?”

The blind cowboy thinks for a few seconds, shakes his head, and mutters, “No, not if I’m gonna have to explain it five times.”

SALLY HENS

Annice

I’ve heard from some baby boomers that high school reunions are nothing but a terrifying rite of passage, but for me, four decades after graduation, it was a blast.

It started with the preparation and anticipation of going back.  I think I received the first announcement (at least 6 months before the event) from our uber organizer and former majorette, Lynn.  Preparation for the Reunion would not be without challenges for me.  After all, there was pressure in high school and it didn’t have to do with grades.  Grades?  That was the easy part.  My anxiety came from the lack of dates and boyfriends.   I scored a big zero in that department so why wouldn’t I feel a tiny bit of pressure?  I’m not perfect, you know.  Then, there was the issue of what to wear.  I prayed I would find the most flattering outfit I could fit this 50 something body into short of liposuction in time for the Reunion.   Thank you very much J. Jill.  

40 years later

So why would I go to my 40^th reunion?  Simple, I wanted to reconnect with people I shared my youth with – after all, I spent the most formidable years of my life with these 480 kids with raging hormones.  You see, I grew up in Mayfield Hts., Ohio, attended Mayfield Rd. Elementary School, Mayfield Jr. High and Mayfield Senior High school as did my two sisters, my brother, and my five cousins.   Oh yeah, I must also confess, I love stories and the Reunion was filled with them – stories of former cheerleaders, majorettes, football heroes, wrestling champions, thespians, and merit scholars.  There were stories about divorce, ex-husbands and their girlfriends, children, step-kids, ageing parents, dead parents, and even dogs (yes, baby boomers love their dogs).

The first night we all met at a bar which I thought was a brilliant idea.  It facilitated the initial shock of seeing each other grown up.  Understand, I hadn’t seen or in most cases, thought about my classmates in 40 years.  Well, that’s not exactly true because many of us have been reconnecting on facebook in anticipation of the Reunion.    Another brilliant idea was posting our graduation picture on our nametags.  Purposely, I kept reading glasses in my pocket so I wouldn’t have to squint all night to read the nametags and distinguish the photos.

my reading glasses

The first night, all I could think of was who were all these people hugging, and saying hello with huge smiles across their faces,  and why didn’t I recognize them right away?  Too fat, too skinny, too gray, too many wrinkles?  And of course, they were thinking the same things about me.

Saturday night was the banquet and so much dancing and gabbing and I must’ve been having a great time because I didn’t get home until 3:00 a.m. –  just like old times.  And memories, so many memories and laughs that made it all worth it  My advice, if you get a chance to go to your Reunion – don’t miss it.  Life is short.

SADHVI

I got a new iPhone last week so that when I am at our stand at the Market, I can take credit cards with the Square.  I spent a long time trying to figure out the best deal from the many companies, and frankly, it was harder than my first year of college!  So when a friend said I should Google Square I did and was so happy that someone (one of the founders of Twitter) came up with this easy method that lets you take any credit or debit card with a smart phone.  And the best part is that there’s no monthly fee or service contract.  Another added perk is that customers think you are cool if you offer this, don’t ask me why!  Kind of like if you’re the first kid to have the newest-toy-on-the-block sort of thing.  It couldn’t be easier to use, and the money goes straight into your bank account.  Perfect for massage therapists, artist’s, and small business owners.  And it works with the Droid and the iPad too.  Really, it’s great.

iPhone4

But getting an iPhone has made me cross the line from where I set my boundaries in my own personal comfort zone of technology.  I mean, I don’t text because I find it kind of weird to type on something so small, and, I don’t have kids, which I hear is the only way to communicate with them these days.  I don’t like to play games.  I don’t really get lost, and if I do, I like to look at a map or even ask people for directions (I get a secret thrill out of talking to a complete stranger of the same species as me!).  I don’t need to identify a song I like on the radio, I can just enjoy it as something new, and I will leave it to chance when I am on the road and am looking for a good place to eat.  If it’s not good, I know it will be an interesting memory, or something soon forgotten.

So imagine becoming immediately addicted to something that I am a bit embarrassed to write about: and that is, checking my incoming email while driving!  Can you believe it?  It was as if some part of my brain took over and told me: ‘It’s OK…you’re just cleaning up any junk mail and looking for the important ones!”  The bad part is that I wasn’t just doing it just at red lights.  After catching myself doing it during a long stretch of the ride home, I vowed not to touch that iCrackThing while driving ever again.  I don’t know what happened, but it was scary!  No wonder Apple is now worth more than the oil companies!

My 10-year-old niece came to visit, and while driving together in the car to the horse ranch that she would be staying at with her Dad in the car ahead, the beautiful mountain views were truly something to behold.  She sat next to me playing a game on her new iPhone4.  “I love it!”, she says.  I told her she can love it, but not while driving on vacation with her Aunt Sadhvi.  I wanted her to find enjoyment in the ride and the journey and the wonderful views.  She reluctantly put her beloved iPhone away.

Just to let you know, I also write her letters in cursive writing, on cute stationary and send them in the mail with stamps that I pick out, not the ugly Forever Stamps.  I’ve heard they don’t teach cursive writing in schools any more, and I think that’s kind a real shame.  That’s when I started to send her letters.  So maybe my niece will be able to land a job someday because she knows how to read cursive?!  No, I’m just kidding.  I really just want to make sure she has some “human connection memories” instead of computer games that she’s become addicted to on her awesome iPhone.

Or just maybe all this tuning out and tuning into a hand-held computer that is so cute, sleek and even loveable is just a way to tune out the hectic energy of the world?

Enjoy!

Sadhvi

“Be careful not to fill up every moment of your life with “stuff”: things to think about, to react against, to worry about, be upset about, regret or even look forward to… There’s more to life.  You don’t have to stop doing, but you can intersperse your life with brief moments of presence.  Like now… allow everything to be as it is.  Then become aware that there is an awareness here, a consciousness, & that THAT is more truly who you are than anything else.”

EckhartTolle

PRIYA'S MORNING GLORY

Annette

Me and Carli

Over the years, you got to know Gus, my rescue Chesapeake Bay Retriever who passed away at the end of April.  He was often the subject of my posts because his special needs presented me with tons of engaging material to write about.  Now, I’d like to tell you about our Carli girl, our champion show girl who passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago at the age of 12 while I was at my 40^th H.S. reunion.  (Promise to write about that next).

We got Carli as a puppy when she was 12 weeks old from a very responsible breeder on the Eastern Shore.

Carli girl

She was the first dog in my marriage and we took her everywhere.  She was our special girl – sassy, smart, sensitive, and funny.  And, as a good retriever, we trained her to bring us the Washington Post (we lived in D.C.) every morning.  Then, when we moved to Asheville, her job became more involved as our mountain driveway was quite a climb.  Plus, on Sunday she had to carry both the local Asheville Citizen Times packed with all the advertisements AND New York Times.  Believe me, the Sunday papers were heavy and bulky, but Carli proudly delivered them, and never let us down.

Carli doing her job

I know we’ll get another dog some day, but we’re just not ready.   Our house is so very empty, and my husband and I keep talking about all the cute and annoying little things we miss about Carli and Gus.  When you have two big dogs in your house, their absence is monumental.

Carli and Gus

We cancelled the newspapers and read it on-line now.  Neither one of us want to do Carli’s job.

Lastly, I’d like to share some info with you about Frontline – which many dog owners using for fleas and ticks.  I took both my dogs off this toxic medication last year and started using an all natural product my breeder told me about.  I am convinced Frontline contributed to both my dogs’ cancers (liver and stomach).  Please consider Best Yet cedarcide (I use it too, for mosquitoes).

SADHVI

It’s National Book Week.  Or that is what I was told by a friend on Facebook.  I thought it was a fun 2 minute diversion to an otherwise hectic day.

The rules: Grab the closest book to you.  Go to page 56.  Copy the 5th sentence.  Don’t mention the book.  Pass it along.

“Every woman wants to kill the husband – it is another matter that she does not kill him – because if she kills him, what will she do?”

*Note: I know this quote seems strange, but just so you know, I was feeling overwhelmed and my husband was adding to the mix; so when I picked a random book from the shelf, and read this  quote I had to laugh!  I am not a violent person, and I wasn’t thinking to kill him either. Enjoy!

SADHVI'S MEXICAN TORCHFLOWER

Jane

I’ve been worrying too much lately.  It’s not good for me.  I do most of it at night, when the lights are out, and I wake up at 3 am, unable to sleep.  My worries run the gamut, but they always start with my 4 children: from my daughter in Africa (Will she catch some horrible disease from an errant mosquito?) to my son on a farm in New York (Will he survive another 105 degree day of digging up garlic plants?) to my other daughter at a blue grass concert in Connecticut (Will she be caught in a stampeding crowd of drunken concert-goers?) to my daughter here, safe under my roof (Will she be able to handle this upcoming year in high school,  with her 3 sports teams and band and outside-of-school activities?) to my job (Will I get everything done that is sitting on my desk?) to our finances (Never mind) to my health (Will I keep gaining weight or become an obese elderly woman that people pity and scorn?) to politics (Will Obama survive this nightmare? Will our economy? Will the world?) to religion (Is there a God out there listening?) back to my children (Why didn’t I brush their teeth more often?  Damn those stupid fruit roll-ups that I thought were healthy!  We won’t be able to afford the next 8 years of college!  Do they have what they need to make it in the world after college? which leasds to:  Did I give them any kind of spiritual basis to help them deal with their futures?)  You get my drift.  This is where things tend to go rapidly down hill into complete negativity.  I’m sure I don’t need to put examples here.  I’m sure most women over 50 know the kind of negative thinking you can do at 3 a.m., given a little energy and inclination!

OMG!

I’ve heard from a very reputable source that you can create negative channels of thinking in your brain if you keep thinking the same negative thoughts—that you actually wear paths so that your negative thoughts become the easy trail through the woods that has the most markers!  They say that your job is to stop those negative thoughts by wearing new paths.

I’m working on it.  I’m trying to make myself say positive things to myself whenever I can: “The kids are healthy, and they have great teeth that they inherited from their grandmother!” or  “It doesn’t matter that your house is a pigpen!  You’re  too busy getting your priorities straight to clean that back room!” or  “You have willpower of iron!  You are getting thinner every day!” or “The world is not falling into a heap of total and complete ruin, no matter how much the signs point to that scenario!”

As I said, I’m working on it.  But it’s hard.

I’m not sure I’m capable of wiping out all negative thoughts.  I can do it during the day.  Just not at 3 a.m.

I do know one thing that helps: laughter.  When I can laugh with my husband about something silly in the paper in the morning or guffaw over coffee with friends or die laughing with my daughters over a ridiculous movie like “Bridesmaids,” I feel better–and it carries forward into nighttime!  When I go to bed after laughing a lot during the day, the wheels in my brain start turning in different directions—and, next thing you know, I wake up thinking about how great our kids are, or how incredibly lucky I am to have wonderful girlfriends in my life, even if I only see them once a week or once a month or once in a blue moon, or how terrific it is to be surviving this Recession with my husband, with our marriage intact—or how wonderful a scoop of Ultimate Ice Cream’s coffee heath bar tastes!

I have to watch out for that last one though:  it can easily lead me back into one of those negative trails—the one full of worry about being a morbidly obese elder in a wheelchair!

SADHVI

Ok, for the last couple of days, Mercury has been retrograde.  Personally speaking, if it gets any more intense in the heavens, I might have to join the “Baptists who Believe and Want Rapture to Happen Yesterday” (BBWRHY) church down the street.  A friend recently told me about a quote he read…something about “Nothing can be done.  And, nothing matters.”  I think it was from Osho.  I like it.  And I find myself repeating it to myself throughout the day.  You might want to do the same…just find something you like and resonate with.

Here are some suggestions to get you thinking:

“Don’t Worry, be Happy.”

“Everything is OK unless you think about it.”

“Through Chaos Stars are Born”

You get the idea, right?

What does mercury retro mean to you and me?  Well, here is what my favorite astrologers at StarIQ have to say about it:

“Mercury, the planet of communication, short trips and details, appears to stop dead in its tracks on August 2 at 1 degree of Virgo. The planet then turns backwards in its apparent path through the zodiac. It stops again on August 26, then turns to resume its direct motion at 18 degrees of Leo.

Mercury turns retrograde three times a year, spending a bit more than three weeks in “reverse” gear each time. The retrograde cycle is due to the fact that we are viewing the planets from a moving platform, the Earth. The planets, in fact, do not actually change direction, but appear to do so from our perspective. This geocentric, or earth-centered, point of view is the basis for astrological measurements. In a sense, what you see is what you get.

What Does It Mean?

A retrograde planet is generally considered more introverted than when it’s in the normal direct motion mode. Astrologers have traditionally considered Mercury retrograde to be a time of difficulty in Mercury related endeavors like communication, travel and matters of detail. Some counsel the avoidance of launching new projects or signing contracts at this time. Glitches are considered more commonplace now, as are misunderstood or poorly delivered messages.

There are, fortunately, more optimistic views of what Mercury retrograde means. Rather than hunkering down in your bunker, this is a positive time to tie up loose ends, reconnect with people from the past, make mechanical repairs and get systems in order. This can also be a productive period for psychological review as new information can be gleaned from old experiences.

How Long Does It Last?

Mercury, the planet of communication, short trips and details, appears to stop dead in its tracks on August 2 at 1 degree of Virgo. The planet then turns backwards in its apparent path through the zodiac. It stops again on August 26, then turns to resume its direct motion at 18 degrees of Leo.

I hope you are enjoying what is,

Sadhvi

JANE

My baby girl (Becky, who is 19) is now southern Africa.  And she’s there for the next 10 months.  I’m still trying to take in that information, so I thought it would help to write about it!

We took her to the plane last Sunday morning (6 a.m.!), and I swore I was going to be brave just long enough to get her on the plane.  I almost made it.  My eyes started tearing up when I saw her being friendly and cute with the other passengers in line to go through security with her.  She was starting conversations with at least three different people.  That’s just how she is.

After putting her on the plane at the Charlotte airport, our sadly diminished family group went to the local IHOP for breakfast and cried into our pancakes.  It was a bleak morning.  My spirits rose when I got a text message: “I’ll call you when I get to Africa.”  How ridiculous is that?

So she’s gone for a year of study and I’m trying to adjust.  I’m adjusting to the fact that I won’t see her for the next long ten months.  I have to keep from thinking about that one.  I’m adjusting to the fact that if she gets sick or needs help in some way (she loses her passport/her debit card/the key to her dorm room/her computer/her camera/whatever), I can’t do a damn thing about it.  I can’t get to her quickly—no matter what.  The shortest I could get there would be 19 hours of travel—and that’s assuming that my passport is up-to-date!

BECKY

So, I’m  adjusting…  I have to say that I don’t know how all those mothers survived who shipped their children off to cross a lone ocean back in the days before airplanes or computers, not knowing when they would even hear from them to know they were safe on the other side.  I feel incredibly lucky to be in the generation that has Skype, so that I can talk to her at night and see her face and hear about her eating her first fried grub or seeing her first baboon.  How cool is that?

We’ll all get through it, and I’m sure she’ll have a fabulous year.

And here I thought it was hard raising teenagers, but this makes it look like a piece of cake!

SADHVI

It’s been really hot on the eastern side of the US.  Or maybe it’s just a long hot flash?  Either way, I haven’t felt like doing much cooking in the evening lately.  So I try to take it easy and make simple things for dinner, like cold beet salad (I LOVE BEETS!) with fresh goat cheese and something from the garden, like dill.  I have a feeling that everyone has their own recipe with their own memories from their grandma or mother making it, so I won’t post mine.  You do know that I really don’t follow any recipes anyways, right?  And that it’s too hot for me to prepare dinner AND write down what I’m doing?

Oh, and by the way, if you happen to be living on the western coast of the States, where it’s been cold, well, you can still make fresh steamed or juiced beets – beets are so good for you.  Didn’t Dr. Oz talk about them recently?

But here is a recipe from Clara, who is almost taking the place of Oprah.  I find this woman fascinating!  She’s lived through the depression, and she looks terrific!  She has her own website, and her own book.  Maybe everyone but me knows about Clara, but if you are not familiar with her, take a few moments to watch her in action.  I think you’ll agree, she’s a treasure.

P.S. Thanks Garima for sharing!

Stay Cool,

Sadhvi

Jane

I don’t usually give plugs, but today I am singing the virtues of Sleep Aid.

Background:

For the past five to six years, I have had trouble staying asleep.  No problem with getting to sleep:  I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, usually with my glasses still on my nose and words still tumbling out of my mouth.  (Tom loves talking to me in bed at night:  it’s a special time for us.) But then I wake up at 3 a.m. or so—always close to 3—with my thoughts racing—and a horrible, overwhelming feeling of despair.  I try to go back to sleep, but I usually find that I can’t, since 1) I am a terrible mother 2) Tom and I are utter failures at being successful grown-ups 3) my children will live in places close to the coast and they will drown under the ocean that is rapidly rising due to global warming or 4) nuclear war will obliterate us all—including every last trace of anything that anyone, even Shakespeare, ever created—and the lone and level sands of “Ozymandias” will stretch far away.

So, I usually give up and bound out of bed, thinking that since I can’t sleep, I might as well do something productive, like start tackling War and Peace or folding the five weeks of unfolded laundry or putting pictures in photo albums—all of which leads me, in a panic about not getting 8 good hours of sleep, to lie down on the couch in front of the tv and watch animal rescue stories or interviews with slimy doctors giving sex advice—which depresses me again and validates my worst fears about the future of our civilization.

So, I haven’t been too happy about this state of affairs—especially since it has often resulted in my head banging down on my desk at work at about 2 p.m., typing an endless row of b’s and v’s (this seems to be where my forehead connects most often with my keyboard).   It’s a miserable condition.

Until recently, I just figured this was my lot in life, since I am apparently one of those women that hits menopause and never sleeps through the night again.  It seemed like a logical tradeoff for never having hot flashes.  When I wasn’t blaming it on menopause, I couldn’t help but see it as a consequence of all those nights of interrupted sleep from getting up with babies and young children—but this kind of thinking was not helpful.  It just made me bitter and twisted thinking about my friends who didn’t have children—and how their faces look so relaxed and unwrinkled at this age.  Better to blame menopause, since it comes to everyone.

In any case, I thought I just had to grin and bear it—another pleasant little surprise on my womanly journey through life that men like my soundly sleeping husband would–bless their little deprived hearts—never get to experience.

Sort of like childbirth.

Then, my wonderful friend, Maggi, told me about Sleep Aid.

I realize this blogpost is sounding like a commercial.  Too bad.  I can’t help it:  I love this product!  I worship it!  It has changed my life!  And—at least according to my limited research (their website)—it is neither harmful nor dangerous!

Here’s how it works:  I pop one in, right before getting into bed at night, and then I sleep.  I actually sleep.  I don’t wake up at 3 a.m.  I don’t even wake up at 5 when our 11-year-old dog barks her fool head off at the paper boy.  I just sleep, blissful and oblivious.

I do have some knowledge of the product.  I can tell you that is a mild antihistame that you can buy off the shelf at Sam’s Club—I’m sure there must also be a version (probably with a different name) at your local drugstore.

But here’s the best part:  it doesn’t work like a sleeping pill.  So you don’t wake up groggy.  Or drugged.  You  just feel rested—and ready to take on anything.

So, if anyone out there knows of any potential long-term side effects, please let me know.

Or not.

I’m a 51-year-old woman who has not dated for at least 10 years, since I’ve been so busy raising my son (I’m a single mom).  He’s now heading off to college, and I’m wondering how to go about getting back into the dating scene.  I’m feeling pretty out-of-it, since I haven’t done anything like this in so long.  Any suggestions?

Rusty in Roxbury

Dear Rusty,

I’d say it depends on what you are looking for.  If you just want to go out and have a few good meals paid for by someone else and you don’t care if what you end up with in the bargain is a guy who 1) plagues you for advice on how to win back his ex-wife or 2) talks all night about all of  his unsuccessful investment schemes (“But this one is going to work. I can feel it.”) or 3) describes how great his mother’s bread pudding is, down to the last raisin-filled bite,  which, by the way, he polished off at the house he shares with his mother before coming to take you out, then I’d say try Match.com.  If nothing else, you can end up with some doozies to entertain girlfriends with over coffee.  But if you are really interested in meeting an interesting man, do what my friend, Sadhvi, says and go do things you enjoy doing: volunteer in a political campaign, learn to ballroom dance, attend lectures at your local university.  If the activity is interesting, at least you won’t feel like you’ve wasted an evening. But I don’t know about her bowling suggestion, since I’ve never been too crazy about the guys who hang out in bowling alleys.  Maybe the best idea would be to hang out in the lobby at a therapist’s office, since a lot of men over 50 are probably inside on the couch.

 Dear Johanna,

I’m a single woman, mid fifties, and I am interested in meeting someone, but I have this problem:  I seem to have no sex drive.  I’m afraid that if I start “dating” again, this could be a problem–and I’m just not sure I’m up for it!

Over it in Ottawa

Dear Over It,

I really don’t think you have anything to worry about, unless you are thinking of dating someone a lot younger than you are.  If you are looking at men in the same age group as yourself, don’t worry at all!  Why do you think there are so many ads on t.v. about things that will remain unmentionable in this column but which have something to do with things not functioning right?  Perhaps men over 50 are not up for it either! 

Dear Johanna,

I’m just barely over 50, and I’ve been dating unsuccessfully for years–going out with men I meet over Match.com or EHarmony or a dozen other sites.  I even tried a local Speed Dating event that only made me start laughing uncontrollably–the way I used to as a kid playing Musical Chairs.  Through all of this drama, I’ve also been joking and talking about all these fiascos with a co-worker…a man…who has always understood what I was talking about and made it all funnier by laughing.  Here’s my problem:  I’m afraid I’m falling in love with this guy, and he just might be feeling the same way…but–make sure you’re sitting down, Johanna–the problem is that he’s younger than I am–and I mean a lot younger. Should I give up?

Cradle Robbing in Cranston

Dear Cradle,

Don’t be silly!  Age is a number!  The important thing is how he feels about you–and how you feel about him.  Who cares what society thinks? You’re as young as you feel!  Go for it, cougar-girl!  I mean, you’re not talking about a sixteen-year-old, right? Are you?

Annice

Like you, when I wake up in the morning, I have my rituals.   Ialso take great pleasure in them.  I have a short routine because I spend my day at a  9-5, but it doesn’t diminish the virtues of those rituals.

Me and Carli

My dog, Carli, wakes me up every morning  (now that Gus is gone) and while she’s out doing her business, I sprinkle a little fish food in the aquarium for the rainbows.  Carli hurries right back because she knows her breakfast is waiting  – ½ cup of dry food, 2 Tbs. of wet food (now that she’s 12) and a few spoonfuls of some sort of green vegetables.  This week it’s broccoli.

Then, it’s all about me.  I make a mug of fresh roasted coffee and take my place in the on the living room sofa before I reach for my iPhone to play Words with Friends.

Word with Friends app

Yes – I admit to playing an electronic game on my phone and I admit it’s one of my guilty pleasures, so is unleashing my competitive spirit. I play with my dear friend and yoga teacher, Cindy – and let me tell you, this yogi plays a mean game of scrabble.  She wins more than me, but like I’ve said to her, “Sometimes, life just gives you all consonants.”

We’re not the only ones who play.  It seems millions are addicted to this word building, triple score seeking, instant chatting Words with Friends.  However, Cindy and I are not addicted.   We play once a day (me in the mornings, Cindy in the evenings) and a game can last us weeks.   What I love best about playing scrabble this way is how it actually makes me feel like I’m with my friend.  I know that sounds crazy, especially since I’m not a gen xer, but a baby boomer, but believe me, there is a connection through words.  I felt it most when my dad died last April, and I was staying in Cleveland for a couple weeks.  Every morning, I  looked forward to firing up the app just to connect with Cindy and play our little scrabble game.  It allowed me to continue with part of my ritual when I needed it most.

Amazingly, this scrabble-like app has over 1.6 million daily users, and I see why.   You can boot up the app and be in a game in just seconds.  In case you’re wondering, there’s no Facebook application or web presence of any kind, so you have to make all of your moves from an iPhone or iPad. And the game isn’t available on any other mobile platforms like Android.

SADHVI

I wanted to share my secret to eternal youth this week, but I couldn’t think of one.  Then I thought I could let you in on how at the age of 53, I’ve invested wisely and am now retired, except that this is not the case.

So instead I’m going to share something that I think is pretty interesting.  I was looking at the data collected from GoogleAnalytics, a free service from Google that shows which key words people are punching into their search boxes, and how many of them there are.  What I discovered is that the majority of people using the web are trying to find their perfect mate!  Uh oh, wait!  I think that also includes porn sites.  Geez.  I shouldn’t be surprised, since just about all of my single friends use online dating these days.  I even have friends who tell me, “I’ve got to find time to get on Match.com!”.

If only they realized that their type of “Mr. Right” is not anywhere but between the pages of a book.  Because having been in a relationship for over 25 years with the same partner, I can attest that it ain’t like what these single friends are yearning for.  It is not necessarily bad, it just isn’t romance every day!

MR. RIGHT THERE ALL ALONG

If I were looking, I definitely wouldn’t look for a potential relationship online!  They pick the picture themselves and they write things that make them appear like they are auctioning themselves off on the block!

If I were looking for love, I would join a tango class, or a bowling league, or maybe just go the library and get some Harlequin romance novels and drift away in a comfortable chair.  Or just order online at my favorite book site: Better World Books.  A much better company than Amazon to support, by the way.

Here’s a quote from a summer read that I recently picked up (no pun intended).  Let me know if you agree with me that reading about romance might be better than an actual relationship.  It’s cheaper. There is no compromise.  When your heart gets broken, vicariously of course, it will be better by the end of the book.

Enjoy!

Sadhvi

Monica Devine

Monica Devine is an author, photographer, therapist, and baby boomer who lives in Eagle River, Alaska. She also studies and practices yoga – one of the most beneficial practices (spiritual and physical) for women over 50. Today, Monica reminds us of what yoga teaches us about Ahimsa.

Ahimsa means to do no harm; to practice non-violence. When non-violence in speech, thought and action is established, one’s aggressive nature is relinquished, and others abandon hostility in one’s presence.

This is one of the teachings in the Yoga Sutras that I’ve given a great deal of thought to lately. Have you ever noticed how angry speech begets defensive behavior? How violent behavior begets retaliation? We see this on the world stage, between nations and cultures at war with one another. And we also see it on a smaller scale at home with the people we love most.

Explosive anger and negative speech towards another creates a climate of defensiveness and hurt that can last for years. Sticks and stones may break your bones? Sure, but violent and aggressive speech toward another is just as damaging. I remember my sons resorting to shouting matches and highly charged fighting when they were younger, the days when sibling rivalry was intense. This was a highly stressful time for me as a parent; I’d immediately get sucked into their disagreements and feel I had to diffuse the argument with an even louder voice; I had to take control, offer a quick solution, make everything okay again. But in doing so, I was trying to bring about peace in a way that wasn’t, in and of itself, peaceful. So I began to examine these behaviors by practicing staying in the midst of an argument and remaining peaceful inside. By pulling myself aside mentally, breathing deep and slow, and staying consciously aware of the encounter, a neutral ground was established where emotions were not allowed to run amok. Over time, I learned to shape the encounter, rather than control it, and to calmly shift the responsibility for a resolution back on them rather than carry it myself. When I spoke softer, so did they. When I offered and modeled an alternative way to communicate, they responded. This was a huge accomplishment for all of us and took years to hone.

Monica & Mt. Drum

Kind speech begets kind speech. Carrying the thought of peace in our hearts naturally invites a more loving and clearer expression from others. We would do well to remember that families are microcosms of nations. The knowledge and courage required to lay down our sticks and stones and practice daily the essential and vital energy of peace, starts at home, with ourselves.

If you want to hear more about Monica and her life in Alaska where she writes about about art, nature, travel, and more, visit her at her very own blog.

Multi-media piece of my Mom by Monica Devine

SADHVI

I knew the moment we saw our house that it was the one.  The place where I would plant the flowers and things that I loved.  I didn’t do much the first summer, wanting to see what kind of things were here…an old snowball tree, lots of “Rose of Sharon”, an old Lilac tree, a huge Oak tree, and lots of hemlocks.  That was also the first year they started to die off around here; some sort of aphid was killing them.  It also started to get warmer and we went from Zone 6 to Zone 7.

MY POTTING BENCH

I got a tree man to come and treat all 24 hemlocks, and they are still standing.

I feel cozy and protected with those hemlocks surrounding our little half acre.  This month it’ll be 9 years living in this old farmhouse.  It was so much work to gut it and redo it, but it’s wonderful having a place that feels like a haven from the world each night when I come home.

Each year what grows and blooms is a little bit different, and maybe in a different spot.  It’s as if the plants and flowers start to have a life of their own – and I love that.

I would be lost without the Maria Thun BioDynamic Planting Guide.  It’s now online, and it is easy to read and use.

MARIA THUN

I highly recommend planting at the time that Maria Thun says to!  It’s the best thing you can do to get the strongest plants and best harvest.

ONE PURE DAISY

With such a small life, with such a small energy source, it is simply stupid to waste it in sadness, in anger, in hatred, in jealousy.

Use it in love, use it in some creative act, use it in friendship, use it in meditation: Do something with it which takes you higher.

And the higher you go, the more energy sources become available to you.

At the highest point of consciousness, you are almost a god.

OSHO

ZINNIA'S ARE MY FAVORITE!

Minda

Our guest blogger this week is, Minda Brown Jaramillo, from Cleveland, Ohio.  She recently moved back there after spending 10 years in the Southwest.  She has been employed as a Licensed Independent Social Worker for the past 26 years and is currently managing programs for Women in Recovery.  She enjoys reading, traveling, listening to music, and movies.  She has been married for 15 years and has two dogs.

I think I’m addicted to my iPhone.  After 2 Droids (the original and its upgrade), I was really tired of spending money on something I wasn’t satisfied with.  I’m amazed by my iPhone’s speed, accuracy, and how the touch screen for texting is so right on.  I also love the general easiness of its functionality.

Using my iPhone

How do I know I may be addicted?  I am a licensed clinical social worker and work with addicts on a daily basis. In order to be diagnosed, there is a little book called the DSM IV Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders that provides clues as to whether you meet criteria for this.  Although I don’t believe in labeling people, it does give one a good point of departure to work from.  Here’s a sample of some of the questions the book asks regarding addiction: “A maladaptive pattern of use leading to significant impairment or distress manifested by three of the following in a 12 year period:

1. Have you gone through withdrawal?  Wow…I don’t know yet because I’m never without my phone.  I can only surmise that I would go through withdrawal or, at the very least, panic if I did not have it.

2. Have you build up a tolerance? Hmmm….well, I guess since a phone is nothing I can ingest orally or through injection to determine if I’ve built up a tolerance; I can determine that I use it more than I used to, not to mention others have told me the same thing.

3. Have I given up important activities or relationships that I would normally participate in or a failure to fulfill normal obligations? Well, I think I’m safe with this one.  I wouldn’t stay home to be with my iPhone. I’d just take it with me.

4. Have I suffered any consequences, legal or otherwise due to using my phone?  I don’t think so, although again, I am conscious to not text while driving.  However, I will look to see if I’ve received any emails.  I do have to be careful while in business meetings to not focus on my iPhone.

5. Is there a great amount of time spent trying to get to my phone?  Well again, I’m really never without it.

6. Have I suffered a physical or psychological disturbance that is exacerbated by its use? No, I can honestly say I have not.

7. So the good news for me is (according to the DSM IV book) since I haven’t had my iPhone for a 12 month period, I’m in the clear – at least until the new iPhone comes out in September which is supposed to rival all other phones on the market.

Check with me a year from now and it may be an entirely different story.

No Signs of Recovery!

SADHVI

I saw the first leaf fall the other night on a walk with my dog.  It’s not the first time I noticed this right after the beginning of summer, just a few weeks after the longest day of the year.  Just one of life’s paradox’s.  It was orange and it was from a beautiful maple tree.

DEEP BURGUNDY PINCUSHION

The flowers are opening a good month ahead of the “norm” of the last 12 years that I’ve been in these parts.

MAGNIFICANT SUNFLOWER

The wine berries are almost over, and the raspberries have been gone for several weeks.  They were huge.

CORNFLOWER'S

My butterfly bushes are gigantic (but no sign of the butterfly population), my 4 o’clock’s smell more intense than I can ever remember, and the skies seem bluer than I can recall.  I want to enjoy what is in front of me, drink it in.  Love what is.  Find the source behind all that I see, smell, notice these days.  I wonder if you are feeling this way too?  Well, I hope you are having a summer where your senses are taking in the beauty of the magnificent color and delight that comes through flowers, nature, and life!

BUTTERFLY BUSH AND HOLLYHOCKS

BELLO THE BELOVED

JANE

Here’s our story, but all you have to do is change the small details and you’re hearing the story of lots of so-called “middle class” people in America: my husband and I both attended graduate school using student loans.  Since we married fairly late—and, as a result, had kids fairly quickly—and therefore couldn’t earn as much as we might have if we’d gotten an earlier start on things—we  couldn’t pay off those student loans until we were well into our forties.  So, about the time we got completely free of our own student loan debt, we had only a few years before we had to take on new debt to help our kids go to college.  And why did we have to take on that new debt?  Because we made enough income at that point to not qualify for the kind of financial aid that could have made it possible for us to do it without loans.  In fact, we would have had to live at or near the poverty level to qualify for that kind of financial aid!

THE COLLEGE DILEMMA

And, in case you’re wondering: the debt is pretty much the same, no matter where your kids go to school—unless he/she qualifies for a few amazing scholarships that are out there for the straight-A kids who play six instruments and five sports and started their own non-profit while in the 9th grade!  The fancy private schools offer great financial aid, if they have good endowments—but that only brings down their massive tuition to the same level as the public schools—and the public schools offer only minimal financial aid.  We’ve had kids at a big public university and at two small, liberal arts colleges—and the bill has, in each case, been about the same.

I have to say: it’s not hard to envision a time when our colleges, especially fancy private ones like Yale or Princeton or Duke or Davidson, will have as their student body a mix of only extremely wealthy kids, whose parents can pay their way, and extremely poor kids on scholarship. It’s happening!

In any case, back to us: we’re taking on significant new student loan debt—and so we’ll be working until we drop!

I don’t know how people do this in America!  All I can say is that some days I wish I’d had the good sense to emigrate to Canada early on—or to any other country that invests in education for its young people!

FIND THE COLLEGE GRADUATE

And I don’t even want to think about graduate school!  People say to me, “Just tell your kids they’re on their own  for graduate school!”  That’s all well and good, until you think about the reality.  What if, for instance, our youngest daughter, who really wants to be a doctor, ends up taking out loans for her career with tons and tons of student loan debt, which, under the best of financial circumstances (she delays getting married and having children because her medical practice is such a huge financial success) will take her years to pay off—until about the time that her child goes to college, at which point she’ll be making too much money to qualify for good financial aid, so she won’t be able to afford to pay for her child’s college without student loans, so that child will have to get significant loans for college and graduate school…and the beat will go on and on.

The whole set-up these days is enough to discourage anyone in America’s rapidly disappearing middle class from ever getting anything past a college degree—assuming they make it that far!

ARJUNA

Our friend, Arjuna da Silva, lives at Earthaven, an aspiring ecovillage in a mountain forest setting near Asheville, North Carolina. Everyone living there is dedicated to caring for people and the Earth by learning, living, and demonstrating a holistic, sustainable culture.  Arjuna helped start Earthaven in 1994, where she’s lived for the past twelve years.  She just moved into her earth & straw temple of a house there. Everyone who knows this beautiful woman over 50, celebrates her spirit.  Here is what she has to share…

ARJUNA'S HOME

Originally, I wanted to write a piece about what a joke it is to work my way through a day of living on the land, off the grid, learning to grow food, and recycling my waste into valuable (fertilizer) resources.  But after several tries, I realized those choices deserve much more credit and that my inner voice is the one who’d rather let someone else do all the hard stuff.

So, yes, I do start my day by (sometimes anxiously) checking the meter to see how my batteries held up overnight storing solar-accessed electric power; and I do pay attention to the weather report regarding the day’s anticipated power access.  I even pay attention to the calendar that tells me if the stars would treat my tomato seedlings better today than if I waited to plant them on Friday.

When I first started to write this piece, I called my draft, A Drop in the Bucket, intending to convey the double meaning of the “sustainable” life I choose to live.

• Meaning 1: peeing and pooping in containers so those resources can be utilized as soil amendments (instead of depending on fertilizers that have to be bought and shipped, possibly scraped off another part of the earth).
• Meaning 2: then there’s the more cynical reference being the effort us folk (who live in this valley) put into recycling, preserving, using renewables, etc., which is just a drop in the regional (let alone global) bucket.

ARJUNA ON THE LAND

But, today I’d rather tell you I’ve found ways to minimize the things I don’t like (carrying what’s too heavy, smelling what’s too foul, etc.), and feel pretty happy refining my rugged life into something that even fussy people might be able to handle.  In fact, I’m thinking others might choose this path if they could feel the inner rewards that come from paying attention to what we do and what we use to do it.

The  choice to take risks (as if anyone lives without them) and move in what looks like “the right direction” for oneself, one’s neighborhood or the planet, is such an uplifting choice!  The experience of following through on the nitty-gritty details of trial and error with new systems and organic self-reliance is exhilarating at times and is mostly just deeply satisfying.  Maybe you’d like to try it?

Please post your questions and comments here so we can have an open discussion.  Arjuna’s workshop, “Your Enneagram and Your Sub-Personalities” airs August 10-21 at Earthaven.  For more information, please email: arjuna@earthaven.org.  All power to the people!  Make your own, grow your own, and use your own!

THE ROAD TO EARTHAVEN

Wrinkled in Wrenville

Dear Wrinkled,

First of all, I happen to like wrinkles, as I have previously stated in this column. I see them as badges of honor on the battlefield of life! However, if you insist on trying to get rid of them, here are some suggestions:

1) open your mouth wide and close it again, several times a day–that stretches the skin around your mouth

2) rub your cheeks with some kind of lotion before going to bed each night

3) and this is the best of all: get some congealed chicken fat and rub it on your skin–it does wonders for your skin and, even better, it really turns on men over 50 (who get excited over anything smelling like KFC).

Best of luck! Johanna

By the way, the chicken fat solution also works well for younger women–who are having trouble with engorgement while breastfeeding. I can testify that it works beautifully at rubbing away any hard, stopped-up places and gets the milk flowing. And babies like the taste!!!

OH MORNING GLORY!

My husband’s iPhone flashed an alert last night while we were sitting on the front porch, cooling off from a hot work day, drinking a beer.  Some sort of App that he has that sends reports when they come in, no doubt.  That alert said that a chunk of the sun had spewed out into space, and that some of it was going to be hitting the earth and cause possible electromagnetic disturbances.  Maybe today.  And nothing more about when, where, or what that will mean.  I don’t have an iPhone, and I don’t watch Fox news or any TV, so I wouldn’t have known.  Hmmm, maybe it IS better to not know about everything, cuz I was wondering about that all day.

Even if I don’t want to know about “THE BIZARRE INTENSE NEWS OF THE MOMENT”, I keep hearing about it.  There’s something or someone telling you the latest thing that JUST happened, or is about to happen, that is kind of mind blowing.  I mean, really, an electromagnetic storm?  What does that mean???

So when I  stumble upon things that I find quite amazing, to keep the balance, I like to share them.

This week’s “finding the balance” share is Eric Whitacre‘s most amazing project with a virtual choir.

So do yourself a favor: click below and bliss out,

xxx

Sadhvi

Annice

I wanted to write about my dad on Father’s Day and now it’s too late.  You’re probably thinking who cares about Father’s Day now?  But I do.  You see, my dad, Sanford Brown, died April 28^th, barely two months ago, and I’m still grieving.

Me and my Dad only 2 years ago

It feels like I always will grieve, and maybe that’s why I haven’t been able write about him.  If it were any other topic, I’d just call it procrastination, but here, now, it’s more poignant.

I want to write about how close I was to my dad–tell you how I miss our telephone conversations about politics, books, current events, my work, and family, especially his grandchildren and great grandchildren.  At times, I find myself reaching for the phone to call, and then I realize that I will never hear his voice again.  Yes, it’s very sad.

My dad was 85, and one week before he died, I traveled to Cleveland to celebrate his 85^th birthday and Passover with our family.  He was especially proud to witness his nine-year-old great grandson, Jacob, conduct the entire Seder not only in English but Hebrew, too.  It was truly a spectacular day.

His great-grandson Jacob wanted to see the company my dad founded

Days after I got home, my sister called to say Dad was in the hospital, and it didn’t look good.  Back I went, hoping it would all work out.  Like many of you with aging parents, I always knew that dreaded call would come one day, but somehow, I still wasn’t prepared.  Despite the fact that my dad was 85 and had lived a good long life, it still seems too short.  And, despite the fact that he was not really sick and lived in the same house for the last 56 years surrounded by family and friends, it’s still too short.

Dad and grandsons Alexander & Mason in DC

If anyone were to ask me what I learned from my dad, I would tell them: how to love unconditionally, the importance of family, loyalty, forgiveness, charity, to travel and see the world; maintain a strong work ethic, and make sure there is laughter in your life.

While I haven’t perfected all of these qualities, I am forever grateful to have my dad’s teachings to guide me through my life’s journey.

Dad's 83rd birthday with a rare glass of cognac

PINCUSHION FLOWER IN SADHVI'S GARDEN

It’s kind of funny, because women under 50 don’t read this blog – they think it’s some kind of thang that they might catch, this being over 50.  And funny too that some of my friends who are men read it, secretly, never commenting.

No matter who you are these days, I have a feeling that all of us are in the same boat, as a humanity, and that the intensity, the shocks, are being felt on some level by everyone.

I have met people recently who have had the whole side of their house sheared off from a hail storm that hit in the middle of the night, with all windows being shattered in the house and their cars.  And I’m not talking about Joplin, Missouri either.

I have met people recently who have lost everything: their jobs, their homes, their future.  They have a blank look behind their eyes, that suggests no more hope.

I also meet a lot of people trying their best to believe themselves when they are asked how they are doing and they answer, “I’m Awesome!”

I realize that all of us are finding our own way to be OK with these times, in our own ways, the best we can.

Observing, feeling compassion and imagining that things will get better, once the chaos is over, is my way.  I am trying to be very open to magic and awe-some-ness.  So finding words from the mystic poet, Rumi is one of the gifts that I have stumbled upon recently that I want to share.

Wishing you well,

Sadhvi

“This being human is a guest house.  Every morning is a new arrival.  A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor…welcome and entertain them all.

Treat each guest honorably.  The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”

— Rumi

Gwendie

Gwendie, who writes occasionally for this blog, has been struggling with cancer for the past four years.  She just suffered another setback, as she describes first in an email she sent and then in a blog entry–but, amazing woman that she is, she is still managing to keep her incredible, positive outlook on things.  I think Gwendie should be a role model for all of us in how to meet life’s challenges head-on and never lose hope.  As my friend Barb said, Gwendie is “living with cancer, not dying from it.”  Jane

Gwendie’s email: Well, guys and gals, it had been a relatively quiet several months here in Gwendieland until about 3 weeks ago when I suddenly “lost” my voice and developed a dry cough.  After considering (and eliminating) the various possible causes (virus, allergies, bacterial infection), a CT scan confirmed that I have more and larger tumors in my chest and neck.  So the assumption is that the loss of voice is related to something pressing on my larynx or perhaps a nerve that innervates the voice box.

Anyhow, of course that means a change in treatment.  So, Monday I’ll be starting a batch of new (to me) drugs.  For those of you who have seen me with short frizzy white hair, forget that look.  It’ll be gone soon.  Hopefully the replacement, should we ever get to that, will not have the frizzy component.  And if you call me, I can at the moment speak only in a croaky whisper.  Also, I may be heading off to Duke Medical Center for a consult there.  Sigh.  But at four plus years and counting (since diagnosis), I can’t complain.  Well, I could complain, but I won’t.

AND HERE’S HER BLOG POST:

I’m shifting gears again.

I’ve been in “drive” for a number of months, cruising along with the same meds, the same side effects, the same tumor markers, for long enough now that it—the condition—was beginning to feel “normal” (to paraphrase Prince Charles—whatever “normal” is).  Anyhow, the bizarre night about 3 weeks ago when I kept waking up with a sharp cough (and now realize I was probably trying to catch my breath) was the beginning of the shift in the gears—a slide toward reverse, which I hope will somehow come to a stop and then shift again, probably at the beginning, into first gear—slow and with lots of effort, but hopefully, quickly move into second and third and even fourth or overdrive—although I’d be more than happy with third gear!

Just not this reverse, please.

Not only do I not like the physical symptoms, but it scares me.  I’m not a big fan of backing up.  Going forward has always felt a lot better to me.  Oh, my.  This analogy is bringing on a cough.  A bad sign that I’ve slipped out of neutral again into reverse. Damn these gears, shifting without any input from me.  Well, I’m ready to take control again.

Bring on the new chemo and let’s shift back into first gear.

Annice

.

It seems like the media is never short on scandals about married men behaving badly.  Even Marlo Thomas has written about it.  I admit, I am fascinated by scandals about men in positions of power or men who put themselves up as role models and then get caught with their pants down.  (Check out our archives about other stories I’ve written abut men behaving badly).   And, isn’t it great that wives today (many are women over 50) can decide for themselves whether to stay or go?  But, I am waiting for one of these wives to stand up at a press conference and call her husband a big jerk.

I played a little game with myself to see how many of these jerks I could remember, with little effort, I came up with this list:

• Rep. Anthony Weiner (D-N.Y.) for sexting
• Strauss-Kahn (Director of the IMF) accused of rape
• Schwarzenegger (no explanation needed)
• John Edwards (former Senator and Presidential contender) for having an affair and love child while his wife was dying of cancer
• Newt Gingrich – ditto (minus the love child)
• Governor Sanford (South Carolina) for having an affair who he claimed was his “soul mate”
• Elliot Spitzer former Governor of NY caught in a high-priced prostitution ring
• Tiger Woods professional golfer and admitted sex addict
• Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas (sexual harassment scandal)

Seems like the cure-all for all these boys behaving badly is simply to hold a press conference, tell us they are seeking professional treatment to focus on becoming a better person, and then they’re all better.  Really, Rehab for Jerks?

Rehab for Jerks

Where are they?  I’d like to refer a few.

SADHVI

I think that because life is so absurd these days, I am coming to a place inside myself where I feel at peace with it.  Funny, huh?  You too?

In spite of this, I can’t help but notice an occasional “odd thing” popping up on my radar every now and again.  Like how the media has just about dropped any news coverage of the nuclear meltdown(s) in Japan.  Like it never happened.  Oh I know, I mean really, why worry us, the masses, about something that is out of control, right?  It’s just that, oh, never mind…I will just not think about those kind of things.

Something funny that I saw and wanted to pass along…The Secret was a big thing a few years back, and there are people that I bump into who just “discovered” it and can’t believe how amazing it is today.

Like attracts like and it’s really as easy as that!  Just wish for a new car, or even a check in the mail for a million dollars, and it will appear.  I mean, it was all there in the book and you could even see people just like me and you who experienced it: OMG!  Many, many people spent money and made the people who came up with this incredible idea very rich.  Well, it’s no secret that the founders fought and sued each other over who would get all that money and no longer talk to each other.

Here’s a funny clip that made me laugh, from the Austrailain TV comedy satire show,  “The Chaser’s War on Everything” that makes fun of “The Secret”:

Whatever your space these days, I do hope you feel more optimistic than pessimistic, and remember…during these intense times, try to do what one of my favorite new illustrator’s, Katie Daisy, says to do:

Jane

I’m writing this really as a reminder to myself.  These are things I’ve come to learn, in this year of trying to keep this weight off me.  I share them with our readers, in case it helps!

Ten Things to Help Me Keep Weight Off (or Lessons Learned the Hard Way):

1) Exercise every day, if only for 20-30 minutes.

2) Wear a rubber band on your wrist and snap it every time you feel like eating something you shouldn’t.  If it actually hurts, it is having a physical effect on your brain—and changing the channel!

3) Try to eat dinner early—and brush your teeth right after eating.

4) Chew sugarless gum any time you get a hunger craving.

Do some Yoga!

5) When you are feeling sorry for yourself and think you “deserve” that chocolate sundae or that bag of Cheetos, pamper yourself some other way.  Take a nice, hot bath.  Read a book.  Listen to soothing music.  Go to a movie (but skip the popcorn).

6) Get rid of all the fattening food in your house. If it is there, it will tempt you.

7) Don’t sit in front of the television set at night with empty hands.  Knit!  Crochet!  Do something.  Otherwise, you might want to reach for popcorn—and then melted butter—and then chocolate—and then….

Write down what you eat each day—it makes you stay honest.

Weigh yourself a Lot!

9) Every now and then, reset your clock: go on liquid protein for a day, just to get yourself back on track.  Remember this is a day-to-day, lifelong process.  You don’t go on a diet, lose weight, and then you’re done.

10) Reward yourself for having a successful day, week, month—but, whenever possible, make that reward something other than food.  But, also, if you are craving something delicious and you find your mind obsessing on that one thing, go ahead and have a bite of it.  Do what it takes to get the broken record to stop playing.  Then, pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and start all over again!

Annice

There it is – I said it: I don’t garden.  Never did.  Don’t want to, don’t have time to, don’t want to make the time – until l I retire – maybe.  I know gardening is the favorite past-time of baby boomers, but I’m just not that into it.   I dreamed my house was surrounded by beautiful plants and flowers blooming all about, bordered by superbly arranged hedges brilliantly designed by a landscape architect (green, of course).

My Dream

But the truth is, I’d rather do yoga, read a book, walk my dog, work on my novel, or plan a dinner party.

I wish my house had a vegetable garden with a variety of edible plants right outside my door.  And I would love to walk outside swinging a basket in my arms to gather strawberries, blueberries, tomatoes, and watercress, but then again, I’d have to sow in order to reap.  Last year, my dear friend and expert gardener Sadhvi, helped me grow various lettuces and herbs in potted plants for my deck.  She educated me and set me up, and I’ll be darned if I didn’t have lettuce and herbs all summer long.  But now, I can’t even get it together to do that.  So, I went to the garden shop and bought colorful plants (don’t ask me what they are) and I will re-pot them and display them on my deck so I can sit and relax in the privacy of my home.

Front yard

By the way, I must also confess that my yard needs a ton of work.  I looked on the HGTV site to see if by chance I could nominate myself for an extreme outdoor makeover but couldn’t find that option on the website.  I’m so desperate.  If you know of a contest for outdoor landscaping, please let me know.  You see, I live on a mountain, so I’ve convinced myself and everyone else that I don’t need any landscaping because I’m a firm believer in the school of “natural habitat.” In case you’re thinking, OMG, I’m so glad I don’t live next to her, you can’t see my house from the road.  It’s down a big hill (the one my husband slipped on during the snow storm in January and broke his hip), and no one can see it.

Back yard

Last year's deck - will try again

I'm so challenged

I spent the last two weeks at home with a terrible case of bronchitis.   Too sick and contagious to work, I vegged out on the couch and spent my time watching daytime T.V.  Now that’s an experience, especially for us baby boomers.

Really!

I watched the last episodes of the Oprah Winfrey Show, lots of Dr. Oz (both shows are great for women over 50); morning talk shows; afternoon talk shows; The Lifetime Channel; The Classic Movie Channel; and of course all the commercials – and there are many.  All this shows led me to the discovery that our country is obsessed with challenges.  Why? I ask.  Isn’t living life itself challenging enough?  Why do we have to break it down?  Give it a name? The media is so good at seducing us with “challenges” and the products we need to overcome them.  Here are some of the tempting challenges even I contemplated while lying on the couch.

• The weight loss challenge (by far the most numerous) I was particularly drawn to the Dr. Oz challenge to reboot your body in just two weeks!  He also has the ultimate anti-ageing challenge, and the sleep challenge, too.
• Jillian Michaels fitness challenge
• Dr.Phil’s family weight loss challenge
• Here’s one I like, it’s twofold: anti-ageing and it will give you a new career while going to Botox school:
• Suze Orman has the ultimate financial challenge, plus  mini ones where you can save $100/mo:
• The teeth whitening challenge sponsored by Arm and Hammer:

Well, here’s my response to all this.  Really people?  Just take an anti-depressant and get on with it.

Here's a Dare!

Jane

My sister Pattie

Happy this day to accept
Problems beyond comprehension,
Beyond solving,
Beyond changing,
To sit home at night,
Because they’re out and might
Have to call,
Though they don’t call as promised
When they get there,
If they get there.
Most likely they did,
Chances are they’re there,
Concerned with their own unsolvable problems,
The ones you just guess at,
Of which you are one–
You hope the biggest one,
Happy if you’re the only one.

Forgetful in Florida

Dear Forgetful,

I am just happy to say that I don’t have this problem any more, and I’m as old as the hills.  My children praise me all the time for remembering stuff.  In fact, I even keep track of my husband’s meetings.  And when I go out with my girlfriends, I’m the one who remembers where we parked the car.  It’s amazing, isn’t it, how some people get memory loss with menopause and some just don’t?  Now, tell me again, what was your question?

Dear Johanna,

What can I do about my “chicken fat” arms?  I’ve lost weight recently, and I look fairly good in every place except the very flabby undersides of my arms.  They flap in the breeze and make me feel totally unattractive.  I can’t stand to wear short-sleeved shirts any more.  Help me, Johanna!

Flabby in Forest City

Dear Flabby,

I’ve heard this complaint from lots of people, and I, for one, am tired of women worrying about their flabby arms.  When I see a woman with flabby arms, I just think to myself, “There is a woman who has lived through a lot, experienced a lot, probably picked up a lot of babies with those arms or carried a lot of some man’s dirty clothes up and down stairs. She is certainly not someone who had time to go work out at the gym all the time and keep her arms looking trim.”  I think we should start a movement to protest people’s prejudice against flabby arms.  I say wear those no-sleeve shirts with pride!  You could even get a t-shirt printed that says, “I’m no spring chicken!  I’ve got chicken-fat arms!  Watch out! I might knock you out with one of them!”

Dear Johanna,

I am always tired and have very little energy.  I don’t have hot flashes, but I seem to have every other symptom of menopause, and I’m really tired of the whole deal.  To top it all off, my husband still thinks I’m beautiful and wishes I were interested in sex more often, but the thought of it doesn’t do wonders for me.  In fact, it’s the opposite: I’d almost rather do anything else!  Will I ever feel normal again?

Droopy in Detroit

Dear Droopy in Detroit,

Honey, you need to tell that man the truth:  unless they invent a drug that reverses menopause, he won’t be getting back the hot young thing he married any time soon, so he needs to either get used to living like a monk or come up with some new strategies.  Here are some time-honored ones that have been found to work well with women over 50 (and I actually recommend doing them all, in order):  HE SHOULD 1) cook dinner for the family; 2) clean up the dishes; 3) scrub the toilets in the bathrooms; 4) fold all the laundry; 5) plan the family vacation without any input from you; 6) tell you he loves that one little hair on your chin–it turns him on–and he especially loves your adorable, flabby arms; and 7) promise you that you can sleep late the following morning and he’ll get up and let the dogs out!

SADHVI

SEDUM AND ROSES

I don’t watch TV.  I just don’t have the time.  Sorry Oprah!  Sorry Dr. Oz!  I realize I am in the minority, and to tell you the truth, that is where I have felt the most comfortable my whole life.  Under the wire, so to say.  I don’t go to the gym.  I don’t go shopping and I don’t belong to many clubs.  Really, I am not that social and am somewhat of a hermit when I am not working.

I would even say that I need a lot of down time these days in order to survive and stay somewhat sane in a world that I find increasingly fast and intense.

GROUP SHOT OF ORIENTAL POPPY'S

I am a big fan of all the flowers that open in my garden.  That wonderful progression starts in late winter, and doesn’t stop until late fall.  And to think that leaving Cleveland, Ohio back in 1976 made this all possible!

BELLO, MY SHADOW!

It’s funny, but I’ve planted things only to find them in completely different places the next year.  Like the hundred or so larkspur’s coming up in a corner completely different from where they were originally planted; and they were originally maybe a couple of dozen from a seed pack!  Oh I know, those are from the many seeds that were blown there in a strong wind.  But I find that magical!

Then there’s the 3 butterfly bushes which have now multiplied into a dozen thriving plants in different parts of the yard!  It’s like: “Where did those come from?”

I like to let the garden do what it wants, because it simply thrills me to know that I am not in charge!  And it really feels like it has a life by itself, and will continue long after I am gone.

SAGE

These are the pictures of what I saw this morning.  I hope you are finding beauty and joy in the flowers and fragrances that you see in your world.

MANY RED POPPY'S

PINK POPPY

BEAUTIFUL MULLEIN

PURPLE POPPY

SADHVI

These days I seem to be running into people who are either dropping out of Facebook, etc., or they are trying to keep up, and are feeling overwhelmed.  And then there are folks like my husband, who never wanted any part of it and thinks it is a complete waste of time! Someone sent me the following email; I don’t know who wrote it, and I hope no one is offended. No matter where you are in the spectrum, I do hope you enjoy reading it like I did.

“When I bought a Blackberry cell phone recently, I thought about the business I ran for 30 years with 1800 employees, all without a cell phone that plays music, takes videos, pictures and communicates with Facebook and Twitter.

I only signed up for Facebook and Twitter because of the pressure from my seven kids, their spouses, 13 grand-kids and 2 great-grand-kids who told me they would be able communicate with me in the “modern way” if I did.

Not wanting to be left behind, I figured I could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of space.

That was before one of my grand-kids hooked me up for Tweeter, Tweetree, Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie, Twittererific Tweetdeck, Twitpix and something that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program within the texting world.

My phone started beeping every three minutes with the details of everything except the bowel movements of the entire next generation.

I was not ready to live like that.

So now I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.

The kids then bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost every now and then going over to the grocery store or library.  I keep that in a box under my tool bench with the Blue tooth headset (it’s red, by the way).

Which I was supposed to use when I drive.  I wore that Blue tooth while standing in line at Barnes and Noble talking to my wife and everyone within 50 yards started glaring at me.  Maybe it was because I had to take my hearing aid out to use it, and I think I got a little too loud.

As far as the GPS goes, it did look pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside that gadget was the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time.

Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically say, “Re-calc-u-lating.”  You would think that she could be nicer.

It was like she could barely tolerate me.  She would let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light. Then if I made a right turn by mistake, well, let’s just say it was not a good relationship.

Now when I get lost, I just call my wife and tell her the name of the cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy, the GPS lady, at least she loves me.

To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless phones in our house.

We have had them for 4 years, but I still haven’t figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have to run around digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone rings!

The world is just getting too complex for me.

They even mess me up every time I go to the grocery store.  You would think they could settle on something themselves but this sudden “Paper or Plastic?” question every time I check out just knocks me for a loop.

I bought some of those cloth, reusable bags to avoid looking confused, but I never remember to take them in with me.

Now I toss it back to them.

When they ask me, “Paper or Plastic?”,  I just say, “Doesn’t matter to me.  I am bi-sacksual.”

Then it’s their turn to stare at me with a blank look.

It’s only fair.

I was recently asked if I Tweet?

I answered, “No, but I do toot a lot.”

I just want to end by saying that I really don’t need any more gadgets to connect.

The TV and the garage door remote are about all I want to handle!”

I want to enjoy life…how about you?

Jane

This week I had a very disturbing experience:  I was offered a senior citizen discount at my grocery store!  I’ve never been offered this kind of discount before—anywhere—so it totally flummoxed me.  It didn’t help that the store had a cutesy little name for it, so when the clerk asked me if I had forgotten about their “wisdom discount,” all I could manage was a confused look.  Then it sank in:  she was offering me the discount for people 60 and older!

I almost blew up at the clerk—at her audacity in thinking I could be that old—until I realized that I’m only three years away from the “wisdom discount”.  And that’s when I really got depressed.

I didn’t want to get depressed, but that’s what happened.  I simply could not fathom that I could possibly look 60 to a 21- year-old.  How was that possible?  I’m way younger than that.  After all, I’m only 57!  Besides, I’ve always been the youngest one in my family, so how could I ever look 60?  60 is an age where you look grown up and mature.  Help! I don’t feel that way yet!

Besides, I’ve lost all that weight!  I thought I was looking young and beautiful and very far from 60!  I managed to get over the whole incident by telling myself that one, ridiculous clerk is just so young that she doesn’t have a clue about anyone’s age.  To her, a 40-year-old probably looks 60, I muttered under my breath.

Then it happened again—in a different store, with a different clerk—a very polite 40-year-old man, who asked me if I was “eligible for our senior discount?”.

Maybe with all the stress of this year, I’ve aged.  Maybe getting thinner has actually made me look older.  Who knows?  Maybe the problem is that I am, in fact, pretty darn close to 60, so I might as well get used to the sound of that number.

Whatever! All I can say is, I’m not ready for it yet.  I’ll adjust, eventually, when 60 rolls around.  I’ll be a very happy 60-year-old.  But until then,  I’ve got 3 more years, so I plan to celebrate the fact that I am still in my fifties.  And to hell with any young whippersnapper who thinks differently!  They can take their wisdom discount and….

I’m far too mature to complete that sentence, but you get my drift!

Annice

If you recall, we rescued him nine years ago, complete with a bullet underneath his belly.  And since that time, he’s blessed us with so much love and affection, charming anyone who’s ever been to my house.  He was my boy.  I’m so sad to say that he died suddenly of liver cancer (at least that’s what the doctor thinks) three weeks ago.  It happened so fast, I still can’t believe it.  I was in Cleveland coping with the sudden death of my father when my husband called to tell me Gus was sick.  I wish I could have been there to say good-bye, but since that was not meant to be, indulge me in a few photos as I say my sweet good-bye to my sweet Gus.

Gus with Stick

Gus taking it easy

Gus Sleeping

SADHVI

Well, I almost stopped doing this blog since some of my friends seemed to be concerned about me after my last posts.  For those friends who don’t know it, I have a very quirky sense of humor.  I think it was developed from all those winters that I spent growing up in Cleveland, Ohio.  At any rate, I didn’t realize that ending a post with Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” would give anyone cause for concern until I mentioned the weird reactions I was getting to a long-time friend who happens to be from Cleveland too.  She said she read my post, and as usual, simply enjoyed hearing from me.  However, she did say that having that Pink Floyd song might give someone the impression that I was drifting off into a suicidal binge – OMG!

I’ve been doing a post a week for the last couple of years, so if it sounds like I am going off into the deep end, in reality, I am not:  I am simply sharing something.  Consider these posts a little window into my reality, and simply enjoy.

There are just so many things that are in bloom right now.  I love my flowers, and I love how they photograph.

Here are a few that lit up my world this past week:

CORNFLOWER

AN ORIENTAL POPPY

CALIFORNIA POPPIES

PEONY

I also like to bake, and so here’s what I made this past week for my husband, who absolutely loves rhubarb.  This tart is made from the first batch of rhubarb from my garden.  And as usual, it was delicious!  I don’t even like rhubarb but I squealed when I my first taste of this.

SADHVI'S SWISS RHUBARB TART

I shared this secret and easy recipe for this before, so I have not re-posted it.  Just enter it in the search box at the top to get it from the archives.  It is timeless and always good.

What else?  I like to take our dog, Bello, for an evening walk on the trails nearby our house.  It is so quiet, and we usually don’t run into anyone, so it is especially nice.  I wanted to share a picture of the evening light that makes those walks magic for me.

THE LIGHT IN THE FOREST

So whatever your reality is, I invite you to share yours with me, or simply enjoy mine!

Jane

My mother always said she hated Mother’s Day.  Like a few other women over 50, members of the baby boomer generation, I grew up in a household where Mother’s Day was looked down upon as something artificial, created by marketers in order to sell products.  So, I believed that when/if I had kids, I would probably continue to look down my nose at Mother’s Day—and would say to my kids the kind of thing my mother used to say to me: “Please don’t give me anything on Mother’s Day.  Every day of the year is Mother’s Day for me.  You certainly don’t have to prove your love for me on some artificially-selected day!”

When our first child was born, and my first official Mother’s Day rolled around,  I was surprised to see how happy I was to get flowers from my husband.  But my real change of heart didn’t happen until those years when my children’s pre-school teachers (bless their wonderful hearts) started helping my children to create little Mother’s Day presents.  I remember when my oldest daughter brought home her first creation: a big flower made out of paper that opened up to reveal all kinds of nice words about mothers.  (The poems were furnished by the teacher, but the flower itself was cut out by my daughter.)  I found myself having to sit down—because I was crying!  I couldn’t believe it: I was a complete sap!  The marketers had won!

Give Mom the gift of love with a photo book filled with loved ones and cherished memories.

But what’s a girl to do?  Just consider these: the Mother’s Day in 1992 when our third child, Becky, was born—right on the very day!  Or the time when my son drew me a heart, that was signed, “I love you, Mama, Love, Parker Hatley.”  Or the Mother’s Day when my youngest, Josie, brought me a bouquet of paper flowers attached to straws (that are still sitting on my desk at work).  Or the more recent time when my adult daughter, Lizzie, brought me a little sign for my desk:  “I smile because you’re my mother.  I laugh because there is nothing you can do about it.”

Or this year:  when all four of them put their hard-earned money together to buy me flowers, a gift certificate for Ultimate Ice Cream (how well they know me!) and a locket with their pictures in it.

So, I’m in:  I love Mother’s Day.  Every year, I am caught, again—not by the sappy ads on t.v. (although I have to admit that when I was pregnant, I even cried over these)—but by the loving actions of my kids.  I’m a complete convert to Mother’s Day.  I say: Hurray for Mother’s Day!  Down with disbelievers!  I guess every good thing has to also have some accompanying hype.  Just consider Christmas!

A follow-up:  I’m happy to say that I stopped doing everything my mother told me to do when I was a teenager—and one of my rebellious acts was to bring her flowers on Mother’s Day.  Although she still pooh-poohed the day, she admitted she liked the flowers.

I wish I’d rebelled sooner.

SADHVI

Well, I want to thank all of our readers and fans who clicked on the Google Adsense ads to the left side of our site.  It did help us out with a penny a click.  And we got our first check for $100 recently, which means 10,000 of you clicked on one of those ridiculous ads that seemed to have nothing to do with our site.  If you notice, there is now a blank space where those ads used to be.  It seems that we have been terminated since someone clicked too often on those ads, according to the terms that we agreed to.  I was a bit surprised & embarrassed to get that email notification from Google, but after a short while, I realized that whoever was the guilty party was only supporting us.

What else?  Well, according to the May 16, 2011 issue of TIME magazine (did you know they date their magazine ahead?) which I subscribe to and get in my mailbox located at the end of my driveway, and actually sit down to read,

69% is the “increase in ExxonMobil’s first-quarter earnings from the same period last year; the oil-and-gas giant made almost $11 billion, marking one of its most profitable quarters ever”.

With gas prices going up weekly during the last couple of months based on whatever fear-based shortage is being fabricated, I was deeply saddened by the greed of, well, whoever owns ExxonMobil – who is that?  Mr. Rogers?  Big Bird?  Wall Street?

Maybe I really should consider getting some sort of pill that will make me feel comfortably numb.  Some of my closest friends have told me that I am bi-polar, and it’s just a sickness that can be fixed with a pill.  Which makes the following YouTube video of one of my favorite bands, Pink Floyd, performing “Comfortably Numb” rather appropriate.  Enjoy!