Sigh.......

I don't really know how to title this post and mostly it's a bit of a therapeutic posting for me.  My beloved dog is aging and it's getting more obvious this week.  The last two mornings he has been unable to walk down our stairs.  He goes up fine in the evening, but loses his footing on the hardwood surface and does a not so controlled fall down the flight of steps.  Lately we've had to help him which is no easy task with a dog his size.  And his behavior has been different.  He wants us all together in the same area.  Often he wants to go outside and wants my husband and I to sit outside with him.  And he seems weary and tired lately, but still tries to continue his routine in loyalty to us.  He still walks with me each day and appears to enjoy it.  We go early before the weather gets too hot but still he has a long recovery time when we're done.

We're making a few changes to try to help him out some.  Our stairs have needed to either be refinished or carpeted for some time now.  So, Monday I'm going to call about carpeting hoping that the extra traction will improve his ability to navigate them for a bit longer.  He manages our outside steps and curbs without hesitation, so perhaps a little traction will go a long way.  I've started him on a higher dose of glucosimine/chondroitin medication and aspirin therapy as per the vets orders.  And on his upcoming visit I intend to ask about any other ways to reduce his discomfort and maintain his mobility.

But I need to admit that 12 years old is getting on in years for a Golden Retriever and soon he will have to leave me.  It makes me cry just to type that.  If you could wrap up sweetness, joy, loyalty, dedication and love in a big hairy soft package, you would have Seamus - the best first dog a person could ever ask for.

 

 

The Comfort of Old Things

We just bought a "new to us" car.  It's a 2008 model with only 20,000 miles and six months of the original bumper to bumper warranty remaining.  All told it was a great buy as any good used car can be.  But beyond the economics of it, I like the comfort of driving a used car.  There is no concern about being the first to ruin the perfect condition of the paint or to be the first to spill something because chances are, someone has already done that.  Don't get me wrong.  This car is in very good condition but somehow it feels more comfortable to allow my dog to ride in the back or to park next to other cars in a busy parking lot. 

I think this feeling of comfort extends to other old things, too.  I like to dress up in nice clothes, but I also like to pull on my old jeans and tee shirt and not worry if I splatter something on me or if I get dirt on my knees when kneeling down and do some spontaneous weeding.  There are many acceptable appearances for old or used but only one for brand new.  Maybe it would be good to extend this observation to ourselves.  Perhaps instead of trying to maintain that "new" look as we age, we should just embrace the comfort of our aged looks. Other cultures do this and it seems we might be healthier to follow suit.  That being said,  I'm a LONG way from going out in public without my makeup.  Really, now, a girl needs her limits. 

Old Person Alert

I don't feel old yet.  In fact, sometimes I think the very core of who we are is very similar throughout the years.  There are parts of me that feel like the same person I was in high school.  I'm not so sure that is a good thing, but that's how it seems.  But, I guess I'm seen as older than I think I feel.....

A few weeks ago I had some help here cleaning the house.  When I came down the hardwood steps, the woman was cleaning the hardwood floor at the bottom.  She said with alarm, "Be careful!  The floor is wet!  I always worry when old people walk on a wet floor!"  Boy, did that one hit me.  She thought I was old!  I thought we were peers!  Wow.

Then, a few days ago I had my glasses off to read something.  I went to move on to the next task and couldn't find my glasses.  I looked all around where I was sitting without success.  So, I decided to walk into the bathroom and put my contacts in.  When I looked in the mirror, there were my glasses - on top of my head!!

Maybe the cleaning lady was right. 

The Red Days

A lot has been written about the start of our Christmas season.  It is slowly starting sooner and sooner each year.  Thanksgiving gets pushed aside and lost in the shuffle.  Except for food, there is not much shopping surrounding Thanksgiving so merchents seem to slide from Halloween to Christmas preparations. And now, even Black Friday shopping is part of the creep.  This year stores seemed to be competing over who could open the earliest for Black Friday sales!

Call me old fashion (or maybe just old), but I like the way it was.  I was reminded while watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade this year that the parade was a celebration of Thanksgiving itself and only at the end did Santa arrive to usher in the Christmas season.  Four weeks is plenty of time for the hype and preparations.  If we can't accomplish it in that time, perhaps we are making too much of this commercialized holiday.

More importantly though, we need to dig out our holiday garb.  You know....those Christmas shirts and sweaters that we love but truly can only wear for four weeks of each year!  I have a large collection of red.  Now, I know that I can wear red other times of the year, except for the ones with pointsettas or other decorations.  And February gives us a chance to wear red for Valentine's Day.  But, these are truly The Red Days!

Daytime TV

Here's a story I often told my boys when they were glued to the TV.  When I was growing up we had one TV.  It was only turned on after dinner.  We only had three channels and my parents decided what we were going to watch.  I was welcomed to join them, but they were in control of the programs.  When there was a special children's show that I was interested in they would turn that on, and my opinion was sometimes asked, but the ultimate TV decisions were made by my parents.  There was no DVR.  Everyone had to decide on one program and if you missed it, you had to wait for the reruns at the end of the season.  The only time I watched daytime TV was when I was sick or when there was a major news event like the launch of a spaceship or the assassination of a president.  Period.

I still don't watch daytime TV as a rule and a TV on in an empty room or when a group of people are visiting still drives me a little crazy.  But lately when I sew I've turned on the TV to have something to listen to.  And, I haven't missed much.  My life is not less rich for those years without daytime TV.  There are basically four kinds of daytime TV:

1.   News shows - or sort of news shows.  Most of them are more like news magazines because lets face it, how much news REALLY happens?  And how much hype can you put on those happenings?
2. Soap Operas - I don't even bother.  Too much to follow when I'm sewing.
3. Talk shows -  These are basically a host trying to express outrage at people who are yelling at each other on the show. OR they have a group of people all talking at once over each other and making it really impossible to figure out what anyone is saying (ie: The View)
4. Judge shows - Basically a judge trying to express outrage at people with mostly silly complaints. Honestly, these cases are almost unbelievable....but entertaining and the perfect compliment to sewing.

Here's what I've learned from my sporadic daytime TV watching:

• If you accept a gift from a man he will think you like him and maybe even that your relationship with him is exclusive and when he finds out that it's not and you don't he will take you to Judge Judy or Judge Alex for leading him on.
• Some defendants will plan there defense according to Google information on the judge's sexual orientation.
• When parenting gets out of control, there are always judges to explain to your offspring that they are adults and DO need to pay you back.
• And most of all, I've learned that Regis and Kelly really have been a bright spot in the dismal land of daytime TV.  I watched his last show and he will truly be missed.

How Long is 20 Years?

Sometimes 20 years seems like a long time and sometimes it seems like no time at all.  This morning I was thinking about what my life was like 20 years ago.  I was in my mid-30s and had a 9, 6 and 3 year old.  We had just moved to Virginia to the nicest house I had ever lived in during my adult life.  By this time I had moved so many times that I was determined to die in that house.  (I've moved again since then).  During the last 20 years I've watched by boys grow into men; attended countless sports events, plays and ceremonies for them including 8 graduations and one wedding, gotten divorced, remarried, lost my mother, a nephew, both my new in-laws, and two beloved aunts and saw my sister cheat death twice. As I said, I moved again -- to an even nicer house.  I've visited Hawaii and travelled outside the US for the first time in my life.  I've changed jobs from one that worked best for a Mom to the best job situation of my career and then left that to try the life of retirement.  It was an action packed 20 years.

Fast forward ahead 20 years and who knows what my situation will be...if indeed I will even still be here.  I will most likely move again if my husband or I develop physical problems that make our two story house difficult to access.  My beloved Golden Retriever will no longer be here.  I will undoubtedly lose other loved ones.  And perhaps gain others.  I still have one more graduation for son #3.  My "Places to See Before I Die" list still has quite a few destinations on it.  But, the most important thing at this point is to not assume that there are 20 years left.  Do it now.   That should be my new motto.

Life's Reality Check

Every so often the circumstances of life offer us perspective and the opportunity to reset our view of our own life - to balance it you might say.

My husband and I have been flooded with those little signs that remind you that you are advancing in age.  Body parts ache, memories dull, the doctor and drug store become numbers on your speed dial.  But yesterday we had the chance to see just how old we aren't.  We were on our way home from a trip to Costco and had decided to take the long way around our block to check the mail.  We happened upon an elderly couple, both with walkers.  The man was on the ground and the wife was trying to problem solve how to help him up.  We stopped and provided assistance walking the gentleman back to his porch.  He really only wanted help to stand up but he was clearly in need of some additional assistance for safety.  I would have preferred to see him into the house, but the porch was as far as he would allow.  He had wanted to walk to the mailbox (across the street and about fifty feet down from his home property), lost his balance on the way and ended up "turtled" on the ground.

I'm a firm believer that helping people in such situations deserves no reward.  But this episode carried with it a reward that might possibly come under the "priceless" category for us.  On the way back to the car I commented, "Don't you feel young now?"  And it was the truth.  We felt young, capable, and useful in a way we hadn't for a long time.  I'm sorry that it came at the discomfort of another and I truly hope that this gentleman is doing well now.  Lesson learned - we have lots of good years ahead dispite the changes we see happening to us physically every day.

My Super Power

I've noticed that once women get to a certain age, most of them develop the super power of being invisible.  In most social settings young women are noticed at least to some extent, but once you pass some boundry suddenly you are invisible.  Comments in a small group are not directed your way and you're not exactly ignored, but neither are you noticed.  Getting sales help in a store becomes more difficult and these things don't depend on the age of the other people.  You're invisible to both genders, too.  In fact, the only people you aren't invisible to are those women in your own age group or anyone 20+ years older than you....and then only if there are no women under the age of invisible.  I miss being visible, but occasionally it can be peaceful in the midst of a crowd.  So, I wonder - do men ever feel that they become invisible at some age?   Comments welcomed.