FATIMAH'

In my first writing for OOPS 50, I mentioned several words that have impacted my relationships with my parents and with all people I encounter.  These chosen words shape my living and my writing and should be shared again.  My chosen words:

ALLOW-TRUST-REMEMBER-STAND-give CHOICE- BE RESPONSIBLE-RESPECT-CREATE AUTHENTICITY- LET GO- and have GRATITUDE 

You may, from time to time, experience similarities or repetitions in my word usage or phrases.  They all relate.  They are all my foundation.  Today, I am adding GRATITUDE to my list, but I want to talk about TRUST.

Let’s see what Webster’s and the thesaurus have to say about TRUST.

WEBSTER’s (short version):  RELIANCE, INTEGRITY, STRENGTH, CONFIDENCE, RELIES UPON, ENTRUSTED, SAFEKEEPING, RESPONSIBILITY. 

The thesaurus says: TRUSTWORTHY, ASSURANCE, CERTAINTY, CONVICTION, CREDENCE, DEPENDENCE, ENTRUSTMENT, SURENESS. 

Trusting could be viewed as a ‘thin’ line between knowing and not knowing, between asking “is it real or Memorex?”  One of my many mentors states that, if you question, an opportunity presents itself to look within yourself—and the answer will be there.   

Pape's 106 Birthday Celebration

As we mature, we become wise women, or at least wiser women, acquiring from experiences the processes and effects of trusting or not—who, what, when—those nagging questions and details. 

I am speaking here about trusting SELF, the big trust!  The scary trusting!  The questionable trust.  The fear that comes just from the thought of trusting self is a BIGGY!  To do so, for me, requires constant, conscious awareness of self, allowing—here again, utilizing another one of my words—that the work must be done: going to the edge, jumping off, and trusting that there is a net below!  

Trusting in something we cannot see, touch, or feel is scary.  Or does feeling even have value?  Feel what you are feeling!

For my parents to have unconditional trust in me to care for them required some releasing, some trusting that they had done a great job in raising me, that they will be cared for—some letting go, to a degree, of being in charge, moving from being the doer to being done for. Bottom line:  a lot was required of them!

Being the proud and grateful parent of my parents was and is a heart-intense journey.  And I do mean intense.

Communicating with my parents regarding their well-being provided challenging experiences, to say the least.  Sometimes hurtful statements were muttered by them—not to be mean, but to stay in control of their lives, as they had done for more than eighty years.  They were correct in their expressions.  Also, in having fear of ‘trusting’ their entire lives to me, their little girl, their daughter, the challenging child, the defiant one—the adult that made interesting choices.  All of these memories played a part in their responses to me.  Rightly so:  after all, they remember me! 

For me, however, it required constant prayer or meditation, crying, having conversations with God/Spirit, a Sistah or Brother, acquiring clarity, asking, “What do I choose for my parents and for myself, and how does that look?  Key word of advice on this:  Do not be attached to outcome!  Let go, and choose from your highest place and space.  And, above all, Trust! 

I choose to state my experience with each parent, as it all unfolded.  I acknowledge the ‘Divine Order’ of things.  Results have been beyond my limited imagination. Some bumps.  Some hurdles, for sure.  However, in the big picture, all was—and is—in the ‘Divine Order’ of TRUST.

Respectfully,

FATIMAH’ R. SHABAZZ

WRNU INTERNET TV w/ ‘SHABAZZ 7777’

www.viewerone.com/channels/wrnu

7 days  7pm-7am est

wrnuinternettv@gmail.com

Annice

Meet my friend Marjorie. I met her in Washington, D.C. back in 1982 or 1983 at our local gym on M St.  We were sitting in the steam room, and she remarked how she hadn’t see me with my friend lately and wondered what happened.   I told her she moved to Boston to go to back to school, and how much I missed her.  She immediately reached out, and we became best friends after that.  Neither Marjorie nor I are in D.C. anymore, and I wish we were closer.  She has always inspired me to look for joy wherever it is.  Here she is singing in a gospel choir, and here is her story.

Marjorie

I have always wanted to sing in a gospel choir.  The energy and music is so uplifting.  You can be in the biggest funk…tired, depressed, or overwhelmed with your day and your life, but when you start singing it’s as though you’ve been totally transported to another place and time.

When I lived in San Francisco I sang in two choruses.  I never had a great voice, but good enough to be part of the choral group.  One of my “gigs” was in the San Francisco Gay Men and Women’s Chorus.  My next door neighbor at the time knocked on my door one evening and asked me if I liked to sing.  Well, “yes” I said, but I’m not good.  He said not to worry that it was just a fun group and they sang show tunes.  It turned out to be a little more professional than I was, but I still enjoyed it, and realized what a high I got from singing.  Then my “voice” went downhill (literally).  I was really distressed over it, but the ENT guy I went to said it “wasn’t cancer,” but I would have to give up my operatic career.  I fell over laughing.

So years went by without a song in my heart and last December, right before Christmas, my friend Nancy and I went to a local cafe here in Petaluma, (CA) for breakfast and the Wings of Glory was singing.  I checked it out and low and behold they are here practically right in my backyard!  The best things about this group are 1) you don’t have to audition 2) you don’t have to have a great voice and 3) there is no commitment to show up for rehearsals every week or attend the performances.

Wings of Glory

I haven’t missed a rehearsal yet!  The members are some of the most welcoming people I’ve ever met.  Last weekend we sang with the Oakland Interfaith Choir.  You want to hear great voices….that’s the ticket.  Any one of them could go on American Idol and win!  There was also a Jewish A Capella group there called Vocolat and they were singing Hebrew and Yiddish songs…I  felt more at home.

We are the token white gospel choir, but we have the spirit and the “moves.”  We are invited to perform at a number of different venues.  Churches, of course, but also wineries and other events around the area.

So, how is it, you ask, to be singing about Jesus for a nice Jewish girl from Brooklyn?  Well after all, Jesus was a nice Jewish boy from Bethlehem.  And at least they both start with a “B”, right!?  And, if you’re ever in my neck of the woods please come and hear us sing.  You will be looking for a gospel choir in your area instead of a therapist!

RED POPPY'S AND BLUE SKY

I read a book that everyone seems to have read, and I found out it’s been made into a movie a while back. It’s called “Sarah’s Key”. I guess I am not on top of things, but that’s never bothered me before.

Hey, I just discovered The Public Library again too. It’s so great,  because as much as I long to be swimming in the ocean these days, or relaxing in a thermal bath in Switzerland, I can’t. But getting lost in a good book is the next best thing, so go out and get your library card and start to read: and, it’s free.

.

I have a friend who is so cool. His name is Tosh, and he has this site that has his book reviews. Whatever book he has said is great, well, it is. Check it out. You will find a book that is new to you, and perfect for your next mental get-away.

The beauty of flowers, the color of the blue sky, the smell of honey and clover and fresh-cut grass in the air…it sure makes me smile and feel like there is nothing wrong with the world.

I am feeling grateful and drinking in what is here in my garden.

I’ll finish this week’s post with a poem that I thought was by Rumi, but one that is actually by Rashani Rea. It’s  a poem that you might want to read out loud: Enjoy!

VERBENA AND OUR HENS

There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken,
a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable.

There is a sorrow beyond all grief which leads to joy.
And a fragility out of which depth emerges strength.

There is a cry deeper than all sound whose serrated edges cut the heart
as we break open to the place which is unbreakable and whole.

Rashani Rea

CALIFORNIA POPPIES

My heart is heavy tonight, so heavy that I can’t think of anything funny or cheerful to write about. My state just voted in a totally unnecessary constitutional amendment–to ban gay marriage.

It is embarrassing to me to live in a state capable of doing such a mean-spirited thing.  It’s embarrassing to me that the people working so hard against the amendment had to point out how it would hurt not only gays but also  heterosexual couples–in order just to get people to listen.  It’s most embarrassing to me that the forces of ignorance and prejudice and bigotry won out, in the end, over the forces of open-mindedness, acceptance, and love.

I am ashamed to call myself a North Carolinian tonight.  And I can’t understand the vote–not at all. I don’t get it.  I don’t see how something this small-minded could get enough votes to pass.  I don’t see how anyone who thinks of himself/herself as a decent human being or a kind-hearted person could possibly vote for something that basically says to a neighbor, a co-worker, a colleague something like this:  “I may act like I like you, but when push comes to shove, I really don’t like you all that much–because in my heart of hearts, I am threatened by you.  You scare me, with the ways you are different from me, so I put up walls around my little, small-minded world, to keep you out.  I even think I need to change the laws of my state, just to make sure that you don’t ever have the same rights I have.”

We did this once before in our history.  This state’s legislators made special laws because of fear–fear that people that were different from them might contaminate their water fountains or swimming pools– fear that, worst of all, they might end up in their families.  Now we fear that granting gay people the right to be legally married (and have the protections that brings) will somehow hurt our own marriages.  (Maybe our deepest fear is that our children might turn out to be “one of them.”)  All I can say is, anyone who is that worried about marriage must be in a pretty shaky marriage to begin with.  We only fear earthquakes when we live on shaky ground.

.

In years to come–and I hope it won’t take long–maybe just long enough to get all the old dinosaurs out of office and get young people in there who have grown up in a world where being gay is, frankly, not that big of a deal.  Maybe then we will look back on this vote, and we will feel ashamed to be numbered among the states that felt they needed  a constitutional amendment to legitimize their own bigotry.  We’re bound to overturn this law eventually–because, in the end, justice usually does roll down like water–but what a waste, in the meantime.  What a hateful, hurtful way to treat our fellow citizens.  What a waste of time and money, to put up an exclusive, gated-community kind of law that says, “I claim God as mine–not yours.  My marriage is sanctioned by the Allmighty; yours isn’t–because I said so.”

I read an article in our paper recently about a local soccer star who was unable to come out of the closet while he lived in North Carolina, even though he was the star first of his local high school soccer team–and then of his college team.  It took moving to Canada, where he played professional soccer, and living in an atmosphere of acceptance, for him to finally be able to acknowledge his homosexuality to the world.  In the article, he urged people to vote against the amendment so that young people like him might not have to hide themselves–or their love– away.  How many more young people will have to suffer before we get the message?  How many more gay couples will have to hide themselves away?

My state has let me down, and I am heart sick.

My husband said tonight, “Let’s move to Canada.”  I’m in.

THE OPENING OF A PEONY

In the last week it seems as if everything is growing, budding, and flowering at an accelerated rate in my garden.

The first fragrant peony opened, as well as the comfrey, the pink’s, the salsify, and the parsley too. The roses, the geraniums, the abelia, the sweet william. And hey, it’s just the first week in May.

There is so much to do, what with planting time being until tomorrow, that I say the hell with senseless murders, politics and politicians; I am done with Fukishima news and the high levels of radiation that is and will continue to be in our food chain, forever. I am done with hearing anyone talk about their medical conditions: I just can’t take any more of that kind of stuff in when I have intense planting to do.

IT FEELS AND LOOKS LIKE SUMMER - OH MY!

I have to plant my zinnias, my lettuces, my basil, my zucchini, sunflowers, some bachelor buttons, or else.

I wasn’t planning on getting more than a couple of tomato plants, but somehow, 15 ended up in our dirt!  Cherokee Purple, Yellow Pear, Hillbilly, Rutgers, Black Krim, and Mr. Stripey. I have a feeling I am going to be learning how to do some canning soon.

WHAT THE PEONY IS LOOKING AT

Click on this line to see a very interesting post I read on how to get the most flavor and fruit out of the beloved tomato plant in your garden; or, How to Grow Perfect Tomatoes.

RED ORIENTAL POPPIES

And whether you like or hate Obama, below is a clip of a recent dinner event that made me laugh. Many of my friends who are in the know with these kinds of things, had only just heard about it.
Take a moment to see another side of Obama that made me laugh. And that is something that I always have time for.

Wishing you Well,

Sadhvi

Nancy and her daughter, Hannah

I heard my father’s voice yesterday.

He died in 1981, July 7^th, seven eleven, kind of hard to forget that one.  He was 65.  We had a sick family joke of him kicking off just when he was starting to collect social security; then my mom died at 65, five years later, and so did that joke.

My dad was born in Asheville, the baby of the family, when my grandmother was 40.  He had two older brothers and a sister.  He loved horses and playing basketball.  He played high school basketball and then in the mill leagues.  I have a large wallpaper sample book that my grandmother turned into a scrapbook with clippings of his games.  He joined the National Guard so he could be in the Cavalry unit.  He was offered a basketball scholarship to Wake Forest, but his best friend Crowell Little was going to UNC – and, on his way to college, my dad went to visit Crowell.  He never left Chapel Hill.

He found ways to earn money and played on the Tarheels basketball team.  He became president of Graham Memorial and was in charge of entertainment for the campus.  He ran with the likes of Terry Sanford and even dated Margaret Rose before Terry married her.  He was the caller for the square dance team that was so good, they even played the Waldorf Astoria in New York.  His nickname was Fish, and for years I tried to find out why.  I was always told it was something to do with his being at the Y and swimming so much.  After he died, Crowell told me it was because the girls liked him so much that it was just like tossing a line out and reeling them in.

Like most of the Greatest Generation, my dad never talked about WWII,  and I am ashamed to say that I didn’t prod him about it.  I never expected to lose him so soon.  I do have several newspaper articles that were written about his time there, and, before he died, Crowell told me some stories as well.

One of those stories involved flying from North Africa to Italy and bringing back the plane loaded with wine.  Another time, he was the pilot for Jimmy Doolittle and as he was taxiing the plane down the runway, he put on the brakes too hard, and the nose dived, and Jimmy Doolittle had to find another plane to continue on.

The only scary story I heard was of the time my dad returned from a mission, and there was a hole in the plane right behind his seat.  An altitude exploding bomb had gone right through the plane and had exploded high above them.  I’m sure there were other tense times.  He flew 75 bombing missions.  I just recently pulled out all of his colorful bars and medals and have been looking them up on the internet to see what they all mean.

My dad came home from the war, married my mom and settled in her home town of Chattanooga.  He worked at a furniture store for the rest of his life.  To me, he had the glamor of a Don Draper from “Mad Men” – but without the smoking, drinking and womanizing.  I just recently realized that this year will mark the beginning of my having lived longer without my dad than with him.  I still miss him.

But I did hear his voice yesterday.

Ever since my mom passed, and her house co-mingled with mine, I’ve had this cassette tape from 1969, a recording of a retirement dinner for one of the furniture salesmen.  Too afraid to play it without breaking it, I took it to a studio and had it transferred to a CD.  I had suspected that my dad might have been the host of the evening, and I was right.  There were many people talking, and at first I didn’t realize it was him – but then dim memories from 30+ years ago spread a smile across my face.  I listened as his gentle humor led what essentially was a roast of this person.  I tried to pick out my mother’s laughter out of the crowd.  What a treasure this tape is!  My daughter will be able to hear the voice of the grandfather she never knew,  and I can go back and close my eyes and for a moment, have my dad again.

Paula Jerome

About five years ago, I was driving around doing errands one Saturday afternoon and for no particular reason, I decided to get a manicure – something I almost never do. I think it’s because the nail polish usually chips the next day and then I feel like I’ve just wasted money. So, there I was in a small nail salon in Asheville, and sitting next to me was an amazing woman/jeweler, Paula Jerome. We talked non-stop the entire time our nails were drying. Paula was passionate about making jewelry and growing her design business. I was excited to tell her about my work with the university advising small and medium size businesses in the region, and we immediately set up an appointment. I couldn’t wait to link her up with resources and organizations like HandMade in America. Sometimes, clients become friends and I’m happy to say that even though Paula moved back to New Jersey to be  closer to her family, our friendship endured, and she says I even helped her get her business off the ground.

Paula is 63 now, and it wasn’t until the age of 55 that she ventured into jewelry making. That path proved to be her life’s purpose, and one she feels very blessed to have found because some people never find it. For Paula, that purpose is bringing joy to others through her creations and her passion.

Paula’s collection is made from 100% recycled gold and silver and features precious and semi-precious stones.  It’s gorgeous.  And by the way, her original Atlantic City Charms were worn on the Emmy Red Carpet last September by cast members of HBO’s Boardwalk Empire. Not bad for a new designer.  Take a peak at her entire collection.

Atlantic City charm bracelet

Instead of a traditional interview, I wanted to give you a unique look into Paula’s personality, so I asked her 6 random questions. Here are her answers. Thanks, Paula.

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

In The Still of The Night by the Five Satins

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

My Cell Phone

3. What is your favorite comfort food and how much does it cost?

Turkey Wings. About $2.99 a pound

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

Favorite ~ My grandchildren!!! Least favorite ~ Wrinkles!

5. Favorite lipstick? And where do you get it?

Lipstick ~ Chanel Rouge Coco Shine Hydrating Sheer Lipstick, Neiman Marcus

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

Make my jewelry!!!

TIRAMISU

I’ve had a long relationship with Tiramisu.  Not growing up in Cleveland, no, that chapter of my life was Fannie Farmer Fudge, Snickerdoodle cookies, home-made tapioca pudding, and delicious poppy seed and nut rolls days.

But after moving to Switzerland, my whole world opened up in many ways with new things to discover, like architecture, art, gardening, and of course, food.

And since there are French, German, and Italian-speaking parts of Switzerland, that diversity not only listed all the ingredients on the labels of every item in the grocery store in those 3 languages (french is the easiest and closest to english, funny enough), but it also brought a lot of variety to what I ate.

I think I had my first bite of Tiramisu in an Italian restaurant somewhere, and while I don’t remember where, I do remember being blissed out!

VERMONT CREAMERY'S MASCARPONE

I just had to try to make it myself, and was happy to find out that it is so easy.  In Switzerland, there is a very good cook book that is called “Betty Bossi“.  It’s kind of the same as “Betty Crocker” here in the States.  I just linked the word, “Betty Crocker” to the Americanized-version of Tiramisu.  But I would definitely stick to the Swiss one below.

NONNI'S BISCOTTI BITES

Since the recipe calls for mascarpone, I hadn’t made it in a long time because I just couldn’t find it here.  A few weeks ago, I was trying to get out of our local Whole Foods as quickly as possible (I hate shopping!), when I saw Vermont Creamery’s mascarpone.  It was something like $4.99 for 8 oz., which I thought was OK.  It’s so OK that I’ve invited myself to potlucks of people I don’t know just so I can make it to be able to eat some. I think I’ve made a total of 5 batches since then.

It takes about 20 minutes from start to finish, and it is really good!  Just about everyone that I have shared it with has asked for the recipe, so here it is…enjoy!

Here’s the original recipe from the Betty Bossi cookbook, and here is my translation:

Sadhvi’s Swiss Tiramisu

Get 3 bowls (2 medium, the 3rd one larger) out of the cupboard. Get an oblong glass loaf pan, or small cups or…anything you want to use to present the Tiramisu in.

Take the Nonni’s Almond Biscotti bites, and place them in one layer at the bottom.

Take a Pyrex measuring cup, and add 3-4 T. instant Italian espresso coffee.  Add 1 cup hot water to dissolve, and then add 1 T. sugar, 3 T. Amaretto, and 2 T. Patron Orange Liqueur. Mix it up, and put aside to cool.

Take 8 oz. of Mascarpone (the whole container), and put in the BIGGER bowl.  This container was shy 2 T. of mascarpone, so I used 2 T. of  sour cream.  Grate the peel or an organic lemon over the bowl, and mix it up.

Separate 2 very fresh eggs (I got mine by lifting one of our hens up, and taking them from there), the yolks go into one bowl, and the whites go into another one.

Add 3 T. sugar to the egg yolk and mix them up with a hand mixer.  Add to the mascarpone mixture. Clean the beaters.

Add a pinch of salt to the egg whites, and mix until “stiff peaks” form.  Add 1 T. sugar, and mix some more.

Gently fold the egg whites into the “mascarpone mixture”.

Pour enough of the espresso mixture over the biscotti (like maybe a little more than half of it).

Layer and spread the mascarpone mixture over to cover.

Take some more of the biscotti and dip them into the espresso, and lay gently on top.

Pour the last of the mascarpone mixture on top.  Shake the crumbs from the biscotti box over the top.

Cover the top with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or overnight.

Voila!

* Note: If you take this to your friend’s house, or make it for dessert when friend’s come over for dinner, expect them to think you are smarter, more attractive, and more pleasant to be around than before.

IT'S SO GOOD:)

But although he did end up losing his father, who was pronounced dead after landing, his mother’s cool head under the most difficult circumstances kept him from losing both parents.  With the help of pilots, one on the ground and one in the air next to her, Helen managed to learn very quickly how to fly a plane she had never flown before–and how to land it.  (Helen had flown planes in the past, but it had been 30 years since she had piloted a plane.)

“The sheriff said she was amazingly calm and alert and level-headed,” Richard Collins said of his mother whom he described as “about as frail as frail can be” after having undergone two open-heart surgeries in the past several years.

Here is my favorite part of the story:  at one point, his mother apparently got frustrated with her instructors and said,  ”Don’t you guys have faith in me?  I can do this.”   And she added: “This is a hell of a place to be.”

Moments before landing, she said, “I don’t think I can do this,”  but she was able to land the plane finally, after circling for an hour-and-a-half, trying to get lined up correctly with the runway.  This was right at the point where one plane engine was “sputtering.”  According to the director of the little airport where she landed, “She was on her last attempt….We were all watching and knew she had to do it.”  As observers described it,  “she bounced pretty hard, and when she bounced, the plane tilted forward and the landing gear broke.”

And what did she end up with?  Only a crushed vertebra!

When Helen Collins later described her harrowing experience, she said that her husband “became unconscious and took off his seat-belt to breathe better.”  He lay down in the plane and Helen saw him “turning gray.”

 “She felt his hand and she knew,” Richard Collins said as his voice cracked. “Everybody is so proud of her.”

Helen and John Collins

Next time I feel overwhelmed by some challenge that has been put in my lap, I hope I can remember Helen Collins and say to myself, “I can do this!”

For the full story, including a recording of Helen Collins talking to her instructors, go to the Huffington Post at this link:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/05/wis-woman-sounds-calm-as-_n_1405200.html

Annice

Girlfriends,

It’s been several years since we last sent a shout-out asking you to contribute a blog post with us at Oops50.com.  Your responses have been overwhelming, and for that, we thank you.  We heard from cops, farmers, actresses, retirees, mothers, caretakers, yoga teachers, etc.   

So again, we invite all you baby boomers to share your stories, your dreams, and your regrets with our readers.  We know there are tons of subjects to write about because at this point, you’re not afraid to speak your mind! 

Some of our favorite categories are: Friendship, Family, Cooking, Gardening, Pets,  Health and Wellness, Spirituality, Menopause, Sleep (or the lack of), Work, Retirement, Starting Over, Books, Films, and of course, your favorite products.  Or, if you have a new category, just go for it. 

If you’re interested, please contact me at Annice@oops50.com and I’ll send you our guidelines.  And, don’t forget to spread the word. 

THE FIRST POPPY OPENS

There’s a lot going on, and that’s why I haven’t written in a while.
Some of the things that have taken up my time are the following:
1. Planting and pruning time in the garden
2. Work
3. A couple of birthday party’s
4. The fact that I’ve been drawing a blank on what to write about
5. And, our dog ate my ongoing journal of notes

We’ve also had some crazy weather, so not knowing if it’s summer or fall or spring has got me a little out of sorts. Then we had a killing frost, with my beloved fig tree surviving, but with a lot of damage, and just a few days ago a deluge of rain. Constant rain. Unusual amounts of rain. But no wind like the mid-west had with it’s incredible tornadoes that went through. Yes, there is always something to be thankful for.

The real news of the tragedy of Fukishima is coming out – finally. The media has been successful in keeping the truth of what did happen, and what is happening, from us for over a year. But the truth will always prevail, and so it is with the nuclear meltdown to end all nuclear meltdowns at Fukishima.

A BEAUTIFUL WEED

I go back and forth: should I even mention anything? Most friends don’t care, don’t know, or truly think it’s been taken care of.
Which I find interesting, because during the 1960′s and 70′s, these same older friends were the younger generation who were trying to change the world; to make love, not war; to give peace a chance; to stop all nuclear power, with bumper stickers like “The Sun in the only Nuclear Power we Need”.
I guess nothing could can be done, and it doesn’t ultimately matter anyways, right? Or maybe we are getting too old to think about it.
After watching the speech that Helen Caldicott, I went out into my garden and took a few pictures of the first Oriental Poppy and some flowers that are really weeds that I so enjoy to see come every year, and I was filled with peace and happiness. Because like Helen Caldicott, I am a worshiper of Nature. And, I love this planet. It’s time to go inside and create the world I want to see, to imagine it, to see with my mind’s eye, a better world that will come out of the chaos and change. I can’t wait.

Jim Rogers, CEO, Duke Energy

Since the primary election is almost upon us here in North Carolina–and since early voting starts this week, I want to urge all of our North Carolina readers to vote against the so-called “marriage amendment” on May 8th.  Even if you weren’t intending to vote in this primary (which I normally wouldn’t be, since it’s a Republican primary), PLEASE PLEASE go vote against this ridiculous amendment to our state’s constitution.  This amendment will, to put it simply, set us back several hundred years by institutionalizing and legitimizing discrimination.  Not only that, but it will also make life harder even for heterosexual couples who live together.  As I understand it, under this change in our state’s laws, businesses would no longer be able to offer domestic partners of any kind–homosexual or heterosexual– any kind of health insurance benefits.  Also, people who are not married will have no protection against  acts of domestic violence.

This kind of change has already taken place in the other states in this country that have voted a similar amendment into law.  So readers in other places, watch out!  You could be next!

This type of backlash against the progress of human rights is well-funded and beautifully orchestrated.  And it’s no accident that this important vote has been placed in the middle of a Republican primary ballot–certainly not a normal hangout for liberal voters!

I was proud to see that Jim Rogers of Duke Energy,  joined other business leaders across the state, including the head of Self-Help Credit Union and top officials at Bank of America, in speaking out against the amendment last week, stating that if we are to be a state that wants to conduct business with other states and especially with other nations, then we cannot afford to be seen as discriminatory or not inclusive.  He also said, “I’m old fashioned.  I believe we’re all children of God, and we shouldn’t have special rules for some and not for others.  We have to recognize differences in people and celebrate those differences.”  

I am embarrassed that my state is even debating this subject.  This kind of legalized discrimination should be something in our past, something we have risen above, not something right here in front of us, and definitely not something we are trying to vote into law.  Isn’t it about time that the citizens of our state showed that we are educated, thinking people with hearts,  who care about the rights of all North Carolinians, not just the fill-in-the blanks  (white, straight, male, wealthy, married, whatever) ones?

Please join two former mayors of Charlotte, Harvey Gantt and Richard Vinroot (from opposing political parties) and the Wake County Board of Commissioners and the Orange County Board of Commissioners and, among others, the city councils of the cities of Greensboro, Durham, and Asheville and vote against this amendment.

To read the rest of Mr. Rogers’ speech, go to www.protectncfamilies.org.  That website can also tell you other ways to support the campaign against this amendment, by sending in a donation, signing a pledge to vote against it, or participating as a volunteer.

Let’s protect ALL North Carolina families, not just the ones who look like us.

Annice

Saturday, I gave myself a big pat on the back. I fixed a clogged sink and my garbage disposer. Yes, I did.

For me, owning a home is like owning a car, and I probably shouldn’t.  I don’t like fixing things, spending time learning how to fix things, and I hate reading instruction manuals.  Changing a light bulb is about all I want to do.  You see, I grew up in a home with a dad who had his own business and when he was home, he did not want to fix things.  He called the plumber, the electrician, the snow removal guy, carpenter, landscaper, etc.  And when I lived in an apartment in DC for twenty years and there was a problem, I called Raul, the supervisor.  He fixed things, and I tipped him.

My husband is kind of like my dad, he calls people to fix things.

It all happened on Saturday when my friend Ginny Nadler was visiting from Cleveland to promote her Structural Re-Alignment workshop in Asheville.  She brought her Vitamix with her because she makes a green smoothie every morning for breakfast.  We were cutting up fruit and tons of green veggies and put too many stringy stems down the disposer and clogged the sink (I don’t garden so I don’t compost).

“Call the plumber,” Len yelled.  Have you ever tried calling a plumber on Saturday?  They don’t answer the phone.  But, Roto Rooter makes house calls 24/7 for a fee of $165.  I gasped over the phone, and the plumber must have sensed my disbelief so he suggested I go to the Roto Rooter website and read the instructions to fix it myself.

I admit, I was very skeptical about undertaking this task.  My husband was advising against it while Ginny encouraged me to try.  After a little debate, my husband had no choice but to bring up the wrenches (which I had never used before).  So, with the laptop on the kitchen counter, the bucket under the sink, and Ginny reading the instructions very slowly (at least 3 times) I did it!  I fixed the garbage disposal and the sink is working again.

Thank you, Roto Rooter.

Under the Kitchen Sink

JANE

At 5, which is the first age where I can remember the feeling, I worried that I would never see my favorite red-and-white cardboard bricks again, since my parents had “loaned” them to my cousins as we were leaving for a four-year Army tour in Germany.

At 10, in addition to worrying that our house might burn down, I lost sleep thinking that if Santa Claus wasn’t real, then what other lies might my parents have told me?  And, since Tony Ludholz had stuck a ring with a blue stone in my hand and said “now we’re engaged,”  did that mean I really had to marry him?

At 15, I spent a lot of time worrying about that horrible guy who killed the nurses or those two men who killed the family in Kansas ’in cold blood’.  I worried that the first men on the moon might not make it back home safely–and that every single person who had a chance of saving the world would get assassinated.  I also worried a lot about nuclear bombs, when I wasn’t worrying that Michael Krick would not ask me to dance at the end-of-the-year dance.

OH NO!

At 20, I worried that I would never, ever finish all the work I had to get through to graduate from college, that we would never get out of VietNam, that even if I graduated, I would never get a job because all I knew how to do was go to school and pass my classes, and that I would never, ever fall in love because men were all sexist pigs–and that I would never be able to tolerate my father ever again because he sat and read the paper while my mother fixed dinner–and because he thought “Ms” was an unnecessary addition to the English language!

At 30, I worried that my new marriage would end in disaster, that childbirth would hurt worse than anyone had said it would–and I would die in the process–and that nuclear war would happen right at the point where I had discovered I could love someone.

At 35, I worried our baby girl would grow up in a world full of pollution, nuclear bombs and global warming–and would blame us.  I also worried that she would die of SIDS, be kidnapped, get injured, have a life-threatening illness, or choke on bacon.

WORRY DOLLS

At 40, I worried we would never get out of Iraq, that my son would end up being drafted, that my children and my parents would die at any minute, that nuclear war would destroy us all, that Bush would always be president.

At 45, I worried that I had not read to my youngest child enough (or ever taught her to floss), that my parents would die, that I would die of heart failure caused by obesity, that my son would end up a crack addict, in jail, or a paraplegic from a skateboarding accident, that, despite all the changes of the ’70′s, my daughters would live in a world of sexist pigs and their souls would be trampled.

At 50, I started worrying about growing old before I could ever finish a single good poem, that our troops would never get out of anywhere, that  my parents would die before my kids were old enough to remember them, that September 11th was just the beginning of a horrible end to whatever was left of the American dream, that there might not be a God, and that my children might hate me forever, since I was making daily mistakes with their teenage psyches.

At 55, I worried that my children were growing so fast that I couldn’t even take a breath before they’d be grown.  I worried that my brain would stop working before I could finish anything, that my daughter/son/daughter would hate college, be unhappy away from home, get hurt without me there to fight off boogeymen, not want to come home because they took a Sociology class that made them realize all of their parents’ inadequacies.  That I might be turning into my mother!

THE ICE CAPS ARE MELTING!

Looking back over this list, I realize that 1) some of these things came true, and, although they were bad, they were not as bad as I had feared–some of them were worse  2) there was nothing I could do about it, no matter what.

I wish I could say that now, at 58, I’ve stopped worrying.  But I can’t.  I think I might be addicted to worry because of the elusive sense of control it gives me.  If I can make sure I worry about something, maybe I can stave that thing off for a few more seconds, keep that wolf away from the door.  After all, bad things always happen when you least expect them.

I do know one thing:  after all these years, I have at least learned to take some of my worries with a grain of salt–like , for instance, the one about the ice caps melting and carrying away our house.  I have a few years before that could happen, right?

Annice

I need a new job.  Sitting at a desk and being indoors on most days is hazardous to your health, and my body knows it.  I have days where I sit in front of clients listening to them talk about their business and then after they leave, I have to type up my notes and enter them in a database.  Sitting too long gives me a royal pain in the butt, so much that I dream of being a mail carrier or a conductor.  I just finished a quarterly report yesterday, so I’ve been sitting at my desk far too long, so now I have a mild case of sciatica.  The pain begins in the lower back and runs through the buttock.   Lucky for me, it’s not traveling down the lower leg because if you’ve ever had a full blown case of sciatica, you know it’s is a killer.

Of course, if I entered the data a little bit every month in a more timely fashion, I wouldn’t have to be computer chair bound, but when clients call, I give in to their needs and put my admin work on hold even though I’ve designated that time for ME.

Too much sitting and not enough movement  is unhealthy.  It’s an occupational hazard for sure, so why can’t I collect worker’s comp and get a massage?  I want a job where I move.  Have you ever seen a slouching, fat mail carrier or conductor?  Did you know they live a long healthy life thanks to all that aerobic activity?

Let me be clear, I’m not just looking for longevity, but healthy longevity.  Many of the world’s famous conductors lived well into their 80′s and 90′s during a time when the average life expectancy was 50 years old.  Evidently, flapping your arms around for hours provides a great cardiovascular workout with a steady stream of blood flowing to the brain – all that, while listening to beautiful music, creating an inner peace.  That’s what I want – a life-enhancing job.  

There is another way.  If I were brilliant, I could expect a long life, say the longevity experts.  Winners of the Nobel Prize live longer than most people.  It seems like the act of winning a Nobel Prize increases longevity and life expectancy by 1.5 years.  They also say Minnesotans live longer than most as well as those who are married.  And who knew that the more money you make, the longer you live?  So, I guess a wealthy married orchestra conductor living in Minnesota who has won a Nobel Prize can expect an uber long AND healthy life.

Mae West

Mae West got it right, and she was 87 when she died.

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

Thank you, Mae.

SUZIE IVY

When I was forty-four years old, I experienced a run of bad luck that culminated with a serious accident on my horse leaving me with a broken hip. Add this to a major midlife crisis, empty nest syndrome, and a slow steady weight gain of more than forty pounds and you will understand that I was in a real funk.

When I was able to put my walker aside and make a slow unassisted stroll, I found myself staring at a community bulletin board and reading a poster which advertised a police position at our local department. The key words that caught my eyes were, “No age is too old.”

I started exercising, eating less and striving toward a nearly forgotten teenage dream. I turned forty-five years old, passed all the department requirements and went to the police academy. Against all odds, I passed the rigorous physical and psychological torture to become the first female officer in the small Arizona town where I live.

I am now fifty years old and our first female detective. My daily shift consists of major felony cases including homicide with my specialty being sex crimes. I’ve written two books about my true-life adventures and write a weekly blog post at http://badluckdetective.com about the humorous side of my job.

I’m a menopausal woman with a badge and a gun. I can’t think of a better place than Oops50 to meet other women who are achieving their dreams or looking for inspiration to take life by the horns and make their mark.

Oops50 puts a smile on my face as I see what incredible women are achieving regardless of age and sometimes in spite of it. If the space program is brought back, my goal for age sixty-five is to be an astronaut. What could possibly stop me?

BAD LUCK OFFICER

NAN, ME, and KAREN

There are a handful of people I’ve met that have touched me deeply, and Nan is one of those. I met her in my freshman year at a college in a small town in Ohio way back in the fall of 1976.

That period is my least favorite in my entire life. In fact, Melinda, another long-time friend from way back in high school who went with me to Miami, feels the same. We have this ongoing argument as to who was the one who convinced the other to go to this college. And I know it was her who convinced me!

I first met Nan in the laundry room of the dormitory of McCracken Hall. I think I took Nan’s clothes out of the dryer, and she came in and asked what I was doing, and I yelled at her. I don’t remember really, but she does! I guess I like to show my strong emotional side (some have called it bitchiness) right away, as a sort of test. Wow, that was over 35 years ago, and whatever bond was made, it is still there.

It turns out that Nan thinks I am funny, and I think she is funny. That’s important to me. No one can be my friend if they don’t have the same sense of humor as me. I feel understood by her, and often communicated with her back then without talking. I know from experience that we are all multidimensional beings, and that language is overrated. Just ask my husband. I feel the same about Karen, who is in the picture on the lower right. I hope to write about her sometime soon.

I tend to have this curious nature in general,  and value my friends opinions for new things and good products.

So I asked Nan a few questions:

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

Hmmm, let me think a moment. Oh, it was Sukiyaki, the song that came out in 1963 that was sung in Japanese. My mom couldn’t stand it; it drove her crazy!

What is your favorite lipstick?

I usually use the Clinique freebies that they give out. And then, for special times, I have this one from Guerlain that is a little luxury, because it is so expensive (LIKE ALMOST $50!), and the case is so over the top, but the color and the way it makes my lips feel is really great. I really wish Guerlain would make it cheaper by not having the heavy metal case and mirror.

Which group did you like more growing up, The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

Oh definitely The Beatles. There was something that I found dark and disturbing about the Rolling Stones.

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

A LIPSTICK TO LOVE

Well, I guess it would be my perfume. I like this one called “Artemesia” by Penhaligon. I use it all the time. It smells really clean. In the winter, I like to use this one called “For Her” by Narciso Rodriguez.  My sister, Tina, says that it smell like “sex on a stick”.

Thanks for sharing Nan. I still think my friends are cool, even if we are getting older! I’m really looking forward to this summer’s get-together. Melinda? Tina? Teresa? Mary Ann? Are you guys coming?  Karen has a pool.

xxx

Sadhvi

50 Plus Yoga Instructor Dee Greenberg

Dee Greenberg is a dynamic yoga instructor.  Check out her website at www.50plusyoga.com. This is her first entry on our blog.  Welcome, Dee!

Sometimes an impending birthday takes on great meaning. For me, turning 50 was quite a wake up call.

And now, at 58, it’s interesting to reflect back on a time where, relatively speaking, I felt very young, at least compared to how I feel now.  I’m sure you know how that goes.

There is something to be said for the old adage: “older and wiser.”  And for those of us who are consciously and intentionally evolving – it does seem as if  ”wiseness happens.”  I’d hate to think that with each passing day I was getting a little bit dumber.  And obviously depending on the state of our health, it may feel like our minds are getting dimmer, not brighter.

That’s why I practice yoga!  I hope to keep my light bulb shining well into what is sometimes referred to as “old age.” And not only do I want my light to shine, but I also very much hope to experience this thing we call old age.

But let me go back in time for a moment.  At 50, I was single, living in Boston, recovering from a dysfunctional relationship and still feeling somewhat beaten up by it.  I was also self-employed, but without any clear goals or prospects for the future.  I had been teaching yoga for 3 months.

So basically, you could summarize my condition at 50 as more or less “spinning my wheels.”  My life lacked purpose, momentum and most importantly, goals.

And then all of that changed, seemingly in the blink of an eye.  At 50 plus, my life began to take shape in an entirely new direction and I am happy to say that now, 8 years later, my life no longer lacks purpose, momentum or goals.

The catalyst for this change was a chance meeting I had with a very extraordinary yoga instructor named Shiva Rea.

I stumbled into a week long workshop with her totally by chance.  She rocked my world, and I am a different person today as a result of the 8 consecutive years I spent studying yoga with this most gifted teacher, who became my mentor.

OK , well,  actually there was one other very significant thing that occurred that same year.  On my 50^th birthday, I was at a 4 day yoga retreat nestled deep within the heart of the Catskill Mountains with another very gifted, world class yoga instructor named Dharma Mitra.  Over the course of that weekend, I took a good, long, hard look at my life, and I set some goals for my yoga practice.
There were 2 very difficult arm balancing, inverted postures in which I wanted to gain proficiency.  So I set a goal at 50:  I *would* focus on these 2 postures and gain proficiency.  Two months later,  I stumbled on the aforementioned teacher who would become my mentor for the next 8 years and lead me towards that proficiency.

My purpose in writing this post is to spread my message to the world, which is this:

Life Begins at 50!  Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

All right, let me say it a different way: Life begins at 50, or 60, or 70,  or whenever YOU decide it begins!  The actual chronological number is completely irrelevant.  Life begins whenever you decide to begin to live fully in the moment.

So go ahead and decide.  Let your life begin right now!

CLOUDS

With my sun in Pisces and living right on my Neptune line, you’d think that I’d be a daydreaming fool.  But no, I cannot even take a little catnap in the afternoon!  There is just too much to DO!

I remember how much I liked to color with crayons as a kid, and how I would lay down in the grass and look up in the sky for long periods of time.  Now, baking (more so than cooking meals) takes me to places that are nice, and meditating is good because it is going inside, but it is not often enough.  I occasionally allow myself time to paint, and get into the zone of no-mind, but again, it just isn’t often enough.

I tend to think it’s because of the amount of my day I spend on “the computer”.  And the fact that I now “multi-task”, which has only started within the last couple of years.
So when I read an article from the Huffington Post site that says the latest research shows that a wandering mind helps the memory, I was thrilled.  What an interesting post!  Here’s an excerpt from that article:

Adam Gazzaley, a University of California San Francisco neuroscientist who studies the mind and distraction, wasn’t surprised by the results.

“I have been thinking more and more about our external environment and our internal environment,” he said. “We feel like we live in an external environment because we interact with the world.  But we also have a dynamic and rich internal environment.”

Results are indicating, “there may be consequences” as we jam more and more stimulus into our heads, without taking a break to simply contemplate or daydream, Gazzaley said.  “There are costs to multitasking and not pausing.”

Previous studies have shown that multi-taskers are more distracted and stressed.

“It is up to us to slow down enough to make informed decisions,” Gazzaley continued.  “I think there is a growing tendency to feel that if it exists,” he said of media in all its forms and omnipresence, “I might as well use it all at the same time.  But just because it exists, and is cool, does not mean it has to all be used simultaneously.”

So now that it’s proven that it’s perfectly OK to space out and to take mental break during the day, I feel more and more people will begin to enjoy life – hooray!
So take a moment to listen to the following song from the Lovin’ Spoonful, and enjoy where it takes you.

The Reality of Daily Life

The Wanda Reality

THE BEAUTY OF PANAMA

After we got to Panama, it became obvious that Kevin’s family was burned out on elder care and we decided that we would take on living with Wanda full time. We moved into their house which was set up with fences and gates to keep her safe from wandering and they found another house that was more suitable for their family.

The first month taking care of Wanda was challenging. We were adjusting to her requirements (coffee must be HOT, plates must be WARMED for breakfast, specific breakfast and lunch menus could only have the slightest of variances, and a few other personal quirks that came out over time).

Beyond these must-have’s she is a very pleasant person to be with and she has a good sense of humor. Her health is excellent but her short-term memory loss is the biggest limiting factor in her life. It keeps her from enjoying movies (can’t remember the plot line) and from being in groups of people talking about multiple subjects (she picks up her purse and tries to leave – once going down the street away from a Christmas party before she was missed).

OUR DOG JAZZ

The Scrabble factor

Wanda’s only daily interest in life is Scrabble (and crossword puzzles when she can’t get a Scrabble partner). We have now settled into a routine of Scrabble after each meal and other games as often as we have time during the day. We tried to wear her out one rainy Sunday but after 7 games we were the ones calling ‘Uncle’ and quitting the tournament.

 Changing Cultures

I know some conversational Spanish so I have been able to cobble together enough information to get what we need and understand what is needed of us. Now that we are settled into a routine, we plan to start Spanish classes and I want to take a yoga class given by an expat. My hobby is photography so I have taken one class in encaustic painting as a possible segue into another way of presenting my work. We find the expat community very active and supportive and we have been lucky to live next to a Panamanian family that speaks some English.

ALL OF US!

We have experienced some frustration about how things are done here like getting the electric bill by email (I shouldn’t complain – it used to arrive by motorcycle) but having to stand in line to pay in cash in person downtown. There is no mail delivery and there are no house numbers which makes it tricky when you are having new furniture delivered. And when you buy something like an electrical appliance, you have to wait while a slow moving clerk unpacks it, plugs it in and shows you that it is working and then re-packages it and tapes it up for you to take home. But we can tell we are gradually slowing down, becoming more patient with Wanda and ourselves, and learning to live at a different pace.

Looking at it from 2 months in

At this point we have been here 2 months. Tonight we went to our favorite Italian restaurant, which we can walk to in 20 minutes if it’s not raining, and celebrated 6 years working together. Lots of my friends said they would never work with their husbands. We certainly had our days of stress but ultimately we both wanted it to work and our livelihood depended on us working well together so we quickly got over whatever gripe-of-the-day it was.

As we sipped a nice Genovese wine, enjoyed a fresh salad and crunchy crust pizza, we both realized that we feel like we have been here a lot longer than 2 months…like maybe 6 months…or maybe longer. We feel more relaxed. We feel at home here.

PANAMA

Our clients have been very supportive and pleased with our new pricing schedule. Wanda thanks us every day for taking such good care of her. We still are intrigued by day to day things…from the strange way they cut up chicken parts to the kindness of armed guards who open store doors for you! All in all we are very pleased with this move and are looking forward to getting to know ourselves and the Panamanian culture this year.

I am keeping a journal of our Year in Panama, and there you can sign up to be notified when I post a new entry.

Wish us luck!

Totsie

TOTSIE

It’s been a busy couple of weeks. Pruning, replanting fruit trees and moving the increasingly invasive butterfly bushes and the normal spring clean-up that happens every year had Sakshi and mephysically spent at the end of each day. The older we get, the more I realize how much we do! What was once taken for granted, is now watched and witnessed with surprise and sometimes amusement.

I also celebrated, along with my family & friends (you know who you are…and since this is not FaceBook, or Pinterest, or LinkedIn or…I can have some secrets!) my 54th birthday. There have been years when I didn’t want anyone to know, but this year wasn’t one of those. I am no longer shy about getting older. I also can accept that I am now part of the older generation. I won’t be looking like I did when I was 28 (except on FaceBook), and I will start to look like my dead ancestors.

There was no snow all winter, and it’s now summer-like. I can also hear the grass growing, really. The birds are back, the flowers are opening and dying in what seems like a quick procession, and suddenly, the air feels alive.

I saw one wayward yellow butterfly, happily flying and dancing, all by itself the other day. I don’t normally see them until the end of August, when the Mexican Sunflowers are blooming. The strange feeling at seeing it now, in March, was mixed with a certain joy at watching it move across the yard, and then seeing the hens all stop and look up at the same time as it passed over their heads.

No matter what, Spring is most definitely my favorite season.

I just went out and took some pictures of what I see.

I hope you are enjoying your Spring (or Fall) too!

...

BLUEBELLS

IT'S STARTING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE ... SPRING!

I was attending a conference on local food production this week, and one of the speakers talked about how children have become disconnected from food.  She described children in downtown Philadelphia who had no idea that peanuts came from a plant that grew in the ground or that milk actually came from cows. 

It made me think about the many ways that people have become disconnected or distanced from reality.  Just as processed foods keep us removed from the reality of farmers tilling the soil, credit cards keep us distanced from the reality of money flowing out the door; automatic payroll deposit does the same thing for money coming in.

Text messaging and email keep us distanced from friends.  Why bother to walk down the hall and talk to someone if you can text them your question?  Hair dyes and plastic surgery keep some folks distanced from the reality of aging.  Junk food ads and jingles—especially the ones that stress the kind of “you deserve a break today”thinking—have brought about a disconnection between our mouths and our brains.  Obesity is at the highest level it has ever been in this country, but it’s hard to make us realize our own role in making ourselves fat.  It’s much easier to hope there is a new type of pill or surgery that will make the fat go away quickly.   

News shows, with unending pictures of people fighting in Afghanistan or children starving in Somalia keep us distanced from the realities of war and human suffering.  If everything fits into a YouTube video, which we can choose to watch or not to watch, it makes it easier  for us also to choose not to think too hard about those things.  I remember on September 11 having the disturbing realization that I was grateful to be able to turn off the TV picture of the towers falling—even while knowing that the people who lived or worked near the World Trade Center would never be able to turn off the picture in their heads.

If I think too much about these things, I can get pretty discouraged.  I don’t want my children to grow up unaware or numb.  (There does need to be a caveat here:  I also, of course, don’t want them to have too much reality in their lives—especially if that reality is a harsh one.) But I have reasons for hope.  First of all, the whole local food/farm-to-table movement is restoring the connection for people (and not all of them children) between, for instance, a farmer’s hard work and a delicious tomato on your BLT.  Check out the work of incredible organizations like The Food Trust or your state’s Farm to Table group.

Secondly, credit education in the schools is working to restore the connection between a swiped credit card and a lack of savings at the end of the month.  And the Internet, for all of its flaws, at least offers the possibility of people connecting with other people around the world—and therefore starting to give human suffering in other parts of the globe an individualized human face.  And, here in my little corner of the world, I’m starting to get the connection between being too lazy to exercise and gaining pounds!

I can’t remember who said “only connect”–but I think it was E. M. Forster, the British novelist, who, from the look of him, maybe had his own troubles connecting with others.

E. M. Forster

But I think it’s probably one of the smartest things anyone has ever said.  Maybe that’s what it’s really all about–and our job is to keep working at it our whole lives.  We might slip backwards every now and then, but we still need to keep trying.  I’m thinking that we have the tools– music, art, conversation, good, local food–so we need to make ourselves take advantage of them as much as possible. 

“Only connect” is a simple phrase, so why is it so hard to do? 

Totsie Marine

Our Friend, Totsie, disappeared from Asheville, but we found her in Panama.  Here is her story.

Part 1: Making the Decision

“Wanda fell and broke her (other) arm. She is doing better but can’t remember why she has a cast on her arm.” This email came after we made the decision to move to Boquete, Panama and help take care of my 83 year-old mother-in-law, Wanda. It sealed the deal for us. We said we would come to Panama for a year.

How it came to be:  

My husband, Winn, and I had toyed with the idea of moving to Boquete after visiting there in January 2011. Winn’s brother, Kevin, and his wife, Tammy, had been taking care of Wanda for three years and had moved their whole family, including three school aged children, to Boquete about a year before our visit. Their decision to relocate there was based on Tammy’s parents, who had retired there, and their own research on cost of living, quality of medical care and the desire to scale down their expensive lifestyle in the states.

Family in Boquete

Winn and I have a web development business. I started the business in 1996 and he joined me in 2006. We re-branded the company in 2011 from Totsie.com to Webonobo and positioned it to be “Local Global Mobile Web Solutions”. We also had our site translated into Spanish to attract clients who needed multilingual sites. We had always been told “Oh, you could do your business from anywhere in the world.”, so now seemed to be the right time to see if that was true.

Our original thought was that we could move to Boquete, live near Kevin and Tammy and help take care of Wanda while continuing our business. We knew we would have a cable internet connection and with modern conveniences like Skype, we could still have personal connections to our clients.

The deciding factors:

One factor in our decision to move was that our business had slowed, like most businesses in the states, and while we still had a stable roster of 60+ clients which we host and support, the requests for new sites had slowed to a trickle. Even though we had re-branded and felt positive about the new direction, we were still in the early stages of marketing our new global potential.

Another important factor came when I had a reading with an intuitive in Asheville who helped me admit the fact that I was personally burned out. Being entirely self-taught, self-motivated, self-marketed, I had been working long days for 16 years and even though I thought I had a few good business years left in me, the truth came out in the reading and I had to admit that I was just plain tired, that I had become one-dimensional in giving all my energy to the business and what I really wanted was a big change in lifestyle.  

When I told Winn about my true feelings he immediately said “Absolutely, no problem, I can take over the business. I want you to rest and find yourself.” His next thought was that HE wanted to meet with the intuitive. In truth, he had been wanting to change the hectic lifestyle we had created but hadn’t figured out how to make that happen. So now he was motivated to not only take over the helm but also to do it in his style and at his pace.

And yet a third factor is the fact that I turn 62 on March 6, 2012. Yes, I’m a baby boomer. It seemed unreal to me that people really used to retire at 62 but here I was actually considering it! Of course I would have to give up the CEO position in the company and work less hours to qualify for Social Security but that quickly became a no-brainer. Winn, being 5 years younger than me, still felt excited about our rebranding efforts and could see himself running the business with me as co-pilot.

Running the numbers:

Winn loves spreadsheets so he spread us out in all the ways he could think of to evaluate the wisdom of our move. No matter how you sliced it, it looked like a really good idea!

Based on Kevin and Tammy’s experiences and cost of living, he decided that (as the new CEO) we could offer our services at a lower rate to our clients since our cost of living would be lower in Panama and that would create a win-win for our clients, who had smaller marketing budgets because of the downturn in the economy, and us who had lower living expenses. We could continue running the business, just on a smaller more sustainable pace. We would be living internationally which could eventually meet one of our rebranding goals which was to produce multilingual sites for international clients. We both got excited about the positive possibilities of this move and after we found a great renter for our house-someone I already had an acquaintance with who is in our industry-we felt like the light was green to go.

Part II – Next Monday!  In the meantime, Happy Birthday Totsie. 

ME & MY PAP

Webster’s definition of “allow:” to give permission, to permit, to let have, to grant, to admit, to acknowledge  

Thesaurus definition: to accredit, to approve, to authorize, to empower, to free-up, to recognize  

We all have history, beliefs, habits.  We all show up in this world riding in on these experiences, whatever they may be.  And yet great blessings are always on the horizon for change, setting the stage for all to be free.  And unconditional LOVE…what does this mean in terms of allowing?

“Allowing” equals saying to someone:  “as you are.”

This is easier said than done.  For me, it requires constant homework and conversations with myself, but it is worth the effort because within allowing, there is also the opportunity to review and shake loose old beliefs and habits, re-examine my history & world history, be vulnerable and trust — to come from a space of knowing that I do not need to alter another to allow them to be as they are, do not need to make them change themselves for me (unless it is done by their choice).  When I can accomplish this knowing, I can then choose to stand and be responsible, respectful, and authentic to self and others—and let go.

Acknowledgement of another for the gift of who they are, what they bring to my table, so to speak, provides an opportunity to empower and be empowered.  From my experience, I can say this is NOT an easy task.  The key for me, however, is to know that I always have a choice to be enrolled or not in another’s ways of being or to allow them or not into my space.  After all, there may be times, even in allowing, where discernment is required.

Regarding my parents, allowing them to choose for themselves over the years has always paid off in extraordinary ways.  My mom and my Pape’ have each stopped and thought about a choice they were making, once they were reminded that they indeed had a choice and that the responsibility for the results of their choice was with them.  They have always understood, even though there have been times that the results may or may not be what they had hoped.  However, for me to allow and trust the entire process has always been my stand, as long as my parents stayed safe. 

ALL OF US TOGETHER

My mom will be gone three years in March; my Pape’ is still with me.  To this very day, I am reminded by him daily that choice is always available.  My mom had a strong personality, a powerful stand of who she was, and stand she did.  For our relationship to flow easily, we created constant reminders that a choice was available.  In allowing her to make her own choices,  we created moments to empower both of us in a space of freedom.  Freedom, after all, equals unconditional love. My knowing is that this is the space God/Spirit created for all life:  this unconditional, non-judgmental love.  For me, this is always present, and to offer the same to others is my key to peace, happiness, and wellness.

Allowing another to be as they are offers a gateway for all concerned to evolve–or not.  To be received without judgment or crucifixion is a powerful experience, and the possibility for change–or not–is always available, to know that it is okay for me to be who I am.  I also get to be reminded that, even though it is okay, it does not guarantee that I will be accepted within another’s world.  Choice & responsibility are always present—for everyone.  What we do with it as individuals is a gift and, of course, a choice.

For those we love, including self, having unconditional love is a unique and powerful source and resource.  For individuals we encounter, showing unconditional love for self is an extremely strong stand and foundation for growth in our daily lives.  In the BIG picture, when I experience others, it is not, in the end, about the other person:  it is about me, and others appear within my world as a blessed reminder of “I am that I am”—not “you are right, or wrong, yadda, yadda…”

ME, PAPE and MOM

My offering to Oops50 today is my knowing that all of life is created from a space of freedom and unconditional love.  Why then is it such a challenge for humanity to live life from this same formula?  Could it be that our individual histories, beliefs, habits, choices and past experience, our ‘baggage’, which we continue to carry, becomes a large part of the ingredients that go into the unique individuals we are?

The key questions for me to ask myself are these:  “Do I continue to come from my past ‘baggage’, my comfort places?” or “Do I choose to do the work and  ‘Step up, Shift, Alter, Revive, Let go of that which may not be serving me for my highest good?’” “Do I trust in the unknown?

Part III of my writing will be on the subject of trust.

Thanks once again to Oops 50.

I am, Fatimah’ R. Shabazz

WRNU Internet TV w/ ‘SHABAZZ  7777’

www.viewerone.com/channels/wrnu

7 Days  7pm – 7am EST

wrnuinternettv@gmail.com

.

 

 

JANE

I’ve been thinking about poetry—and how it can change your life or at least change the way you view your life.  What got me started thinking about this today was remembering a story that my sister told me years ago about a teacher of hers in Germany, a man who, during World War II, was forced to spend years in a hard labor camp.  He told her class that one of the things that kept him sane in that horrible situation was reciting to himself all the poems he had memorized as a child in school.  That story has stayed with me through the years—and made me want to memorize poems whenever I could.  (It was always in my thoughts when I was raising kids, making me worry about how seldom they had memorization assignments.  Memorizing poetry seems to be a lost art, except in poetry slams!)

But thinking about that story today also made me think about the poems I have in my head that have carried me through difficult times and wonderful times.  There is, for instance, W. H. Auden’s“In Memory of W.B. Yeats,”  which helped me deal with the death of a beloved high school English teacher with such lines as, “What instruments we have agree /The day of his death was a dark, cold day”, and “Earth, receive an honored guest: / William Yeats is laid to rest. / Let the Irish vessel lie /Emptied of its poetry.”

W. H. Auden

Or there is Anne Sexton’s “The Fortress,” whose lines kept coming back to me when my children were little:  “Child,/ what are you wishing?  What pact/are you making?/ What mouse runs between your eyes?  What ark/can I fill for you when the world goes wild?”

Louis MacNeice

Or there is Louis MacNeice’s incredible long poem, “Autumn Journal,” which I could never hope to memorize, but parts of which have come as close as anything to shaping my philosophy of life, such as this one:  “None of our hearts are pure, we always have mixed motives. / Are self deceivers, but the worst of all /Deceits is to murmur ‘Lord, I am not worthy’/ And, lying easy, turn your face to the wall.”

Anne Sexton

Nowadays, as I feel myself getting older in body but trying to stay young in spirit, I find myself turning more and more to e.e. cummings’ wonderful “you shall above all things be glad and young,” with those incredible last lines:  “I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing/than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.”

e.e.cummings

I’d love to hear from you readers about poems that have meant something to you.

I was one with Elvis when I was about 8 or 9. It was in a dream, and boy, did it feel real. Not the sexually acrobatic kind of oneness, no, it was a true melting of souls. I can still remember how delicious it felt to merge with a human being. It was so good, and truly, I don’t even think I knew who Elvis really was. I do remember my Mom listening to Jerry Vale and Peggy Lee a lot, and my Dad liked Elvis, but I didn’t realize what a phenomenon he was back then. I must have been picking it up via the collective consciousness.

But then again, I also had dreams of being dissolved with God, you know, the Almighty. I guess you could say that I have a bit of the devotee in me, and secretly long to become one with the Universe. Still. Or maybe it was just part of the Path of merging and melting which would eventually lead me to find my Guru.

What brought all this on? Well, hearing that Davy Jones, one of the Monkees, passed away this week, made me take a little trip back in time, remembering their music, which I really liked. I don’t want to say “loved”, since it wasn’t really used then like it is now – the word, love, I mean. You know, these days, it’s like: I love my iPhone, I love my iPad, I love so-and-so’s chocolate cupcakes, etc. It’s interesting to think back to the way people talked, and instead of saying how much you loved everything that you liked, or how awesome everything is that you think is neat, you kind of just kept it to yourself and savored it.

Anyways, even though I wasn’t in love with Davy, his death made me remember how much I really liked their music. In fact, I had all of their albums, played them over and over again, and knew all the words to all of their songs. I watched them every week for many years on TV, probably not missing an episode. So for what it’s worth, I wanted to share my favorite song from the Monkees.  RIP Davy Jones.

Annice

A friend of mine at Sheville.org was waiting in line behind an older gentleman at Wendy’s recently, and heard him ask for a senior discount. The young woman at the register apologized and charged him less for his meal. When my friend asked the man what the discount was, he told her seniors over 55 gets 10% off everything on the menu, every day. This incident prompted her to do some research, (thanks Va) and she discovered a list of restaurants, supermarkets, department stores, travel deals, and other types of offers giving various discounts with different age requirements. Below, you’ll find a long  list of discounts for us baby boomers, and it’s surprising just how many of them start at the young age of 50.

Just think, when you get that craving for pancakes IHOP is ready with your discount, or on the day you’re having a real ice cream emergency, Ben and Jerry’s will add a 10% discount to that rich creamy cone, and  all you have to do is ask. 

Hmmmm, it seems to me if Dunkin Donuts is willing to give free coffee to us boomers and you’re paying for a cup every day, you might want to start getting it for free. Oh, and my very favorite is the savings you get with our National Parks – I’m just saying…

Here’s the list ladies. It’s long. Enjoy!

Restaurants
Applebees: 15% off with Golden Apple Card (60+)
Arbys: 10% off (55+)
Ben & Jerrys: 10% off (60+)
Boston Market: 10% off (65+)
Burger King: 10% off (60+)
Captain Ds Seafood: discount varies on location (62+)
Chick-Fil-A: 10% off or free small drink or coffee (55+)
Chilis: 10% off (55+)
Culvers: 10% off (60+)
Dennys: 10% off, 20% off for AARP members (55+)
Dunkin Donuts: 10% off or free coffee (55+)  
Einsteins Bagels: 10% off bakers dozen of bagels (60+)
Golden Corral: 10% off (60+)
Hardees: $0.33 beverages everyday (65+)
IHOP: 10% off (55+)
Jack in the Box: up to 20% off (55+)
KFC: free small drink with any meal (55+)
Krispy Kreme: 10% off (50+)
Long John Silvers: various discounts at participating locations (55+)
McDonalds: discounts on coffee everyday (55+)
Shoneys: 10% off
Sonic: 10% off or free beverage (60+)
Steak n Shake: 10% off every Monday & Tuesday (50+)
Subway: 10% off (60+)
Taco Bell: 5% off; free beverages for seniors (65+)
TCBY: 10% off (55+)
Waffle House: 10% off every Monday (60+)
Wendys: 10% off (55+)
White Castle: 10% off (62+)

Retail And Apparel
Banana Republic: 10% off (50+)
Bealls: 20% off first Tuesday of each month (50+)
Belks: 15% off first Tuesday of every month (55+)
Big Lots: 10% off
Bon-Ton Department Stores: 15% off on senior discount days (55+)
C.J. Banks: 10% off every Wednesday (60+)
Clarks: 10% off (62+)
Dress Barn: 10% off (55+)
Goodwill: 10% off one day a week (date varies by location)
Hallmark: 10% off one day a week (date varies by location)
Kmart: 20% off (50+)
Kohls: 15% off (60+)
Modells Sporting Goods: 10% off
Rite Aid: 10% off on Tuesdays & 10% off prescriptions
Ross Stores: 10% off every Tuesday (55+)
The Salvation Army Thrift Stores: up to 50% off (55+)
Stein Mart: 20% off red dot / clearance items first Monday of every month
(55+)

Grocery
Albertsons: 10% off first Wednesday of each month (55+)
American Discount Stores: 10% off every Monday (50+)
Compare Foods Supermarket: 10% off every Wednesday (60+)
DeCicco Family Markets: 5% off every Wednesday (60+)
Food Lion: 6% off every Monday (60+)
Frys Supermarket: free Frys VIP Club Membership & 10% off every
Monday (55+)
Great Valu Food Store: 5% off every Tuesday (60+)
Gristedes Supermarket: 10% off every Tuesday (60+)
Harris Teeter: 5% off every Tuesday (60+)
Hy-Vee: 5% off one day a week (date varies by location)
Kroger: 10% off (date varies by location)
Morton Williams Supermarket: 5% off every Tuesday (60+)
The Plant Shed: 10% off every Tuesday (50+)
Publix: 5% off every Wednesday (55+)
Rogers Marketplace: 5% off every Thursday (60+)
Uncle Guiseppes Marketplace: 5% off (62+)

Travel
Alaska Airlines: 10% off (65+)
Alamo: up to 25% off for AARP members
American Airlines: various discounts for 65 and up (call before booking
for discount)
Amtrak: 15% off (62+)
Avis: up to 25% off for AARP members
Best Western: 10% off (55+)
Budget Rental Cars: 10% off; up to 20% off for AARP members (50+)
Cambria Suites: 20%-30% off (60+)
Clarion: 20%-30% off (60+)
Comfort Inn: 20%-30% off (60+)
Comfort Suites: 20%-30% off (60+)
Continental Airlines: no initiation fee for Continental Presidents Club
& special fares for select destinations
Dollar Rent-A-Car: 10% off (50+)
Econo Lodge: 20%-30% off (60+)
Enterprise Rent-A-Car: 5% off for AARP members
Greyhound: 5% off (62+)
Hampton Inns & Suites: 10% off when booked 72 hours in advance
Hertz: up to 25% off for AARP members
Holiday Inn: 10%-30% off depending on location (62+)
Hyatt Hotels: 25%-50% off (62+)
InterContinental Hotels Group: various discounts at all hotels (65+)
Mainstay Suites: 10% off with Mature Travelers Discount (50+); 20%-30%
off (60+)
Marriott Hotels: 15% off (62+)
Motel 6: 10% off (60+)
Myrtle Beach Resort: 10% off (55+)
National Rent-A-Car: up to 30% off for AARP members
Quality Inn: 20%-30% off (60+)
Rodeway Inn: 20%-30% off (60+)
Sleep Inn: 20%-30% off (60+)
Southwest Airlines: various discounts for ages 65 and up (call before
booking for discount)
Trailways Transportation System: various discounts for ages 50 and up
United Airlines: various discounts for ages 65 and up (call before
booking for discount)
U.S. Airways: various discounts for ages 65 and up (call before booking
for discount)

Activities And Entertainment
AMC Theaters: up to 30% off (55+)
Bally Total Fitness: up to $100 off memberships (62+)
Busch Gardens Tampa: $3 off one-day tickets (50+)
Carmike Cinemas: 35% off (65+)
Cinemark / Century Theaters: up to 35% off
U.S. National Parks: $10 lifetime pass; 50% off additional services
including camping (62+)
Regal Cinemas: 30% off
Ripleys Believe it or Not: @ off one-day ticket (55+)
SeaWorld Orlando: $3 off one-day tickets (50+)

Cell Phone Discounts
AT&T: Special Senior Nation 200 Plan $29.99 / month (65+)
Jitterbug: $10 / month cell phone service (50+)
Verizon Wireless: Verizon Nationwide 65 Plus Plan $29.99 / month (65+).

Miscellaneous
Great Clips: $3 off hair cuts (60+)
Super Cuts: $2 off haircuts (60+)

When Robert Redford speaks out, it makes sense to listen. Please click above.

A few months ago, President Obama made a decision to postpone the KeystoneXL pipeline – Hurray! I was very happy to hear about that. Oh, for just 60 days? OK, it’s just the beginning of a battle. So it’s coming up again. And we all need to be aware of it.

Y’know, there is such incredible beauty in this country. I’ve taken many road trips over the years, and have always been touched by it, and how BIG America is.
I remember being surprised when I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time just outside of San Diego in 1971. I remember seeing the Grand Canyon and feeling the “grandness” of it.
I remember the feel of walking into the Redwood Forest outside of Mill Valley (the name of that city is so ironic) and sensing the silence of those trees all together, untouched by man.
I also remember the sadness I felt when I saw the land that was given to the Indians by the US Government in exchange for…well, I guess it was out of guilt for treating them so bad. I saw a couple of these “Indian Reservations” and they looked like miles and miles of rubble and flat, lifeless land. I remember getting out of the car back then, to see one of these “Reservations”, and felt like I could bounce with each step, since it looked like so much like the Moon’s landscape.
With the KeystoneXL pipeline, I don’t know who will win out in the end. Big Oil might.
But it’s not over yet, and maybe being aware of the game might help to shift the decision that would impact our beautiful country.

I mean, if awareness can get Bank of America to drop their $5 per month charge to customers, then I think there is a good chance that if people knew what was at stake, they would not want this pipeline destroying this beautiful land, right down the middle.

I hope you take a look at the clip to expand your consciousness, and imagine a future where new jobs and the future generation will create clean energy, and can enjoy this incredibly beautiful country.

JANE

My oldest daughter is getting married this summer. Even though I hesitate to say it, I guess she’s old enough. After all, she is 24. She has met someone who, in many ways, seems ideal for her. It’s all good.

And yet, I’m struggling to deal with it. I mean, for some reason, I can’t take it in. I can’t believe my little baby girl is getting married. There is no way that 24 years have gone by since she was first holding her head up in the hospital room, looking around with a look of total curiosity! I can’t believe I am actually planning a wedding. I can’t believe that, when the party is over and all the guests have gone home, my daughter will be married—and living her own adult life with someone else. She’s not coming home again, not now, not in the future.

My daughter’s fiance’s family was here this past weekend, and we had a wonderful time with them. They are great people. Everything is great. But there was a big part of me that kept waiting for this movie to end, so that all of us could walk back into our normal lives.

LOVE AND MARRIAGE

The whole wedding ritual doesn’t really help either. There are so many ways you can spend money that you do not have. There are so many people making a living off this industry. It can be overwhelming, and you can easily get caught up in the planning and the expense and lose sight of what the event is all about. A dear friend said to me recently, “Are you worrying so much that you’re taking all the fun out of it?” She drew me up short, because that’s exactly what I was doing. I was worrying and worrying and stressing and stressing, instead of trying to enjoy the whole planning process with my daughter. I was ruining it for her.

My daughter is well aware that we can’t have a wedding that’s straight out of one of those shows on TV, and she has been amazing about it. Even though the small, family wedding we’re planning may not be the wedding she envisioned, she is joining in the spirit of things and finding special bargains and creative possibilities. She has come more than halfway. I’m the one that has been hanging back, maybe waiting for this whole thing to go away?

WORDS OF WISDOM

My words of wisdom for others heading down this road:

1) Remember that your daughter is going through a major change in her life and needs your support.

2) Remember that you are gaining a son, not losing a daughter.

3) Remember that, when all is said and done, it really doesn’t matter if you have engraved invitations or white linen tablecloths, as long as you and your daughter arrive at the wedding still loving each other.

4) And decide, early on, what you can spend on this event and then give your daughter a budget and try to sit back and relax a little, every now and then. OK, I will try to take my own advice, starting NOW.

ARJUNA'A HAUS

We went to visit a friend who lives in a community about an hour away that is off the grid. I’ve been there many times before, but this time was special because it’d be the first time we would see Arjuna’s new home, named “Leila”, all finished and lived in.

Walking up to it, the curves and rounded shapes in the structure made me smile. Inside there were more rounded edges, with walls and floors having an earthiness and sensuality that is lacking in practically every house that I’ve even seen, and I have seen a lot of houses!

THE ROUNDNESS OF THE STAIRS

I have to wonder why most homes are not made to feel good?  Having lived in a 1903-built home in Switzerland, where the design was based on Pythagoras’ Golden Mean, where each room and every room that it touched was in harmony, I can truly say that this small detail makes a big difference. And since we spend so much time in our home, doesn’t it make sense that it should feel good?

It was a cold winter afternoon outside, but going inside “Leila” was like a familiar hug, and the fire that heats the house by heating the walls smelled so good! Alternative housing, alternative living, communal living: I’ve lived that way when I was in my 20’s. Being in a community of like-minded people is something that is hard to describe. And if I told you that it was the best time of my life, being in the middle of nowhere in Oregon, not owning a car, not getting paid but having everything that I could possibly want, either you wouldn’t believe me, or you would want to be living there right now!

Then in Switzerland, we often found ourselves living in houses with others.  One of the things that people often think is that there would be no privacy with this type of housing.  And the funny thing is that I had the feeling of being able to be more private!

And now, as I get older, having lived the chapter of my life called “remodeling the old farmhouse, having a nice garden and chickens and rabbits with my partner”, I can again see the benefit of having people around me, friends that share the garden, the shopping, and get together for things that matter to me, like meditation. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I can see it more clearly after spending that afternoon at Arjuna’s in her beautiful house at Earthaven.

CHIWA THE ARTIST'S WORK

Moi Zip Lining

The idea of a cruise first came to me in a dream while my husband was recuperating from a hip replacement last year.  I dreamed about being waited on hand and foot and not having to wash dishes, do laundry, cook or even think about cooking.  So, after my Dad passed away last April, my sisters and I decided to take a cruise with our husbands as a way of spending time together and not having to work at it.  And since my Dad loved cruises, we settled on a cruise for our journey together.

Norwegian Star

We boarded the Norwegian Star in Tampa Bay (Feb. 5-12^th) and sailed to Honduras, Belize, and the beautiful beaches of Costa Maya, and Cozumel in Mexico.  I have to admit, right from the beginning, I was struck by the customer service.  For example, when we first boarded the ship, it seemed like thousands of people were boarding with us and not only was the process quick and organized, the staff smiled all the way through it and were amazingly friendly – nothing like the airport scene where personnel often act like they are doing YOU a favor.  Everyone I came into contact with on the ship seemed to have one priority – to make sure all passengers have a comfortable, relaxing, and fun time.  If the crew was faking it, they did a great job.

What did I like?  I loved sitting on my private balcony listening to the ocean and keeping the door slightly ajar at night so I could hear the sound of the sea while falling asleep.  I loved sitting on the upper deck in the quiet zone reading, uninterruptedly, Deborah Reed’s new novel,  Carry Yourself Back to Me.

And, I loved the excursions on land.  We zip lined in the rain forest in Belize and later with headlamps on, we floated in tubes through the Mayan cave system.  Other days we relaxed on the gorgeous beaches sipping margaritas and pina coladas.

Coupe Car Cozumel

And when we were at sea, there was the spa with hot tubs, hydrotherapy pools, and cushiony lounge chairs looking out at sea.  Of course there is the dining and endless buffets culminating in the last night’s chocolate buffet.  And, should you get bored, there are endless musical shows that aren’t too bad.

Chocolate Buffet

What didn’t I like?  Just too many darn people – almost everywhere.  I also didn’t like not having enough time once we docked to truly explore any one place.  Basically, you get a sampling of what the country might be like.  It would have been fun to spend the week in just one place but clearly cruises are not designed for that.  All in all, the best part of the cruise was spending time with my two sisters who I don’t get to see enough and of course, not having to cook, clean-up or do anything but visit.

The Brown Girls Cruising

CINDY DOLLAR

Pose or Personality?

I recently heard about an article in the New York Times Magazine about yoga causing injuries.  I must admit that I had a reaction to that information even before I read the article, which eventually I did read.  Here’s my opinionated and short answer: Yoga doesn’t cause injuries. People do. Actually, ego does.

Ego (asmita) is the part of us that we believe is us.  We take ourselves to be this personality because we are taught at an early age that that is who we are.  Ego has opinions, desires, and aversions.  These arise from ignorance (avidya) of our true nature or essential being.  Let’s not go too far down that road right now.

Let’s take it to the mat.  On the mat we can observe the bodily sensations, feel the stretch, notice the strength, release the breath, relax and play.  When we are present to the experience of being in the body on the mat, we are fine.  Then comes in ego’s judgmental voice. “You aren’t doing it as well as the person in the photo.  She’s better than you.”  And we’re off and running.  Instead of staying with our experience of noticing our own body and mind, we begin to push.  “I can do that better.”  Or perhaps, we give up.  “I’ll never be able to do that.”  In either case, we’ve moved out of the realm of present moment awareness and into the realm of wishing things were different.  We’ve left the place of awareness and moved into the place of habitual reaction to the experience of awareness.

(By the way, the voice can be the voice of someone else, perhaps a teacher or friend, who encourages you to push your body past its current ability.  At this moment, the responsibility is yours to listen to your own body and remain steady in your experience.  Be your own best friend here.)

Yes, we do want to challenge ourselves to learn new poses, to improve on familiar ones, as well as to step out of habitual belief patterns.  Frequently our old habits don’t work (either on or off the mat), yet, they are familiar and comfortable like an old sweater that we wear even though it no longer provides warmth.  That’s fine.  Just know that you are doing it and why.

Where does this leave us?  In the place of recognition of having lost our attention.  Knowing that our attention has wandered, we can return to the place of paying attention – both to the experience and to the internal or external voices that remark on what we should be doing or how we should feel.  If it is not the voice of compassion, it has no information for you.  Compassion allows us the freedom to explore the pose, the mind, and the moment without judgment.  And, really, what else is there?

Yoga is not about the pose.  Yoga is about joy of learning who we are beyond the discursive mind that tells us who we should be.

May your life on and off of the mat be filled with joy and compassion.

Love and namaste,

Cindy

It’s still winter and yes, I still feel like hibernating.  With the temperature in the 50’s with sunshine this past week (month? winter?), we spent time outside trimming the fruit and flowering bushes.  I am smitten with raspberries.  And gooseberries and currants and blueberries too.  So to get the best harvest, I will do what it takes to make them thrive.

I really like making elderberry syrup too, but have had to buy elderberries since ours have not done well.  It turns out they don’t like root competition, and there were many creeping vines entangling theirs, along with an old black walnut tree that was still alive, right above.  So we dug them up and moved all 6 of them to a better place.  It was quite a chore, but we like physical work, and since this is something that needed to be done now for several years, it felt good once finished.

I’ve started to think about the things I want to grow in the garden, and where they will be. Today I’ll be planting some slow-growing things like “celery root”, from seed.  It takes a long time, and I don’t find the young plants at the markets around here much.  And, planting from seed is just so simple.

It’s planting time until next week. I’ll be placing poppy seeds around the beds now too…already getting excited to see their beauty in a few months.

I found this clip a few days ago (above).  I grew up in an era of incredible music.  I knew what psychedelic meant without having to take acid, because I listened to the music of those that did.  And, I was about 11 years old when the song “White Bird” by It’s a Beautiful Day came out and wasn’t exactly in the position of scoring any good stuff.  I was more into reading and coloring.  That sounds so old-fashioned, doesn’t it?  Reading and coloring…

But when it was time to dance, disco was coming on the scene and that’s what got me out of my chair.  Seeing John Travolta dance in “Saturday Night Fever” back in 1977 was the beginning of the thrill of seeing him dance in every movie he’s made after that.  Do watch the clip.  It’s good to feel something good these days.  Enjoy!

My husband never seems to remember what I have said to him.  For instance, if I tell him I want him to take the garbage out, he nods his head and smiles at me, as if he knows what I’m saying and is going to jump right up and do my bidding.  But then, hours go by and the garbage is still sitting there, lonely.  How do I know if he is hard of hearing or has Alzheimer’s?

Ignored in Ithaca

Dear Ignored,

If  he doesn’t remember you telling him that dinner is on the table, he may need to get his ears checked.  If he wanders around the neighborhood in his boxer shorts, it’s Alzheimer’s.  If  he hears you when you tell him the game is starting on t.v. but doesn’t hear you when you ask him to unstop the toilet, he’s a man who has been married more than five years.

Dear Johanna,

Lately I am eating all the time.  I pig out at meals.  I sneak out for ice cream in the afternoon at work.  And, worst of all, I suddenly find myself standing in front of the refrigerator in the middle of the night, a bagel with cream cheese in one hand and Oreos in the other!  My husband is starting to say that I am  a food addict.  What do I do?

Fat in Florida

Dear Fat,

You go to your doctor right away and tell him/her you are not sleeping well and need Ambien.  Then you tell your husband you’ve been taking Ambien for the past few months, and apparently it has caused you to exhibit strange behaviors around food.  Works like a charm! 

Dear Johanna,

I am afraid I no longer love my husband, but I’m too tired to make any changes in my life.  I already have a separate bedroom.  I’ve told him we can’t communicate, so there is no use even trying to talk any more.  The other day, he fell down, and I kicked him–and felt no guilt.  Is this normal at my age?  I’m 65.

Anxious in Anchorage

Dear Anxious,

Your reactions may be a little extreme, but I get where you’re coming from.  I hear that in some cultures, once women are past childbearing age, they all live together happily–and boot the husbands out.  I don’t think that idea would fly in America, but I hear you, sister!  But no more kicking!  Just make him a “man cave” where he can go watch TV and drink beer while you hang out with girlfriends.  You’re much less likely to end up in jail!

Johanna

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!

.

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

.

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!

.

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

.

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 

.

.

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.

.

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.

.

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.

.

.

“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.