Gray Matter(s)

A few months ago, I blogged that I was planning on becoming a natural beauty. This meant, that with retirement, the need for manicures and colorists had gone by the wayside. I feel strongly about that. I was resolute in my thinking that one should always look the part. I spent my whole life in the appropriate style.


Step into the way back machine with me ~


As a child, I wore school uniforms, and when I was finally allowed to go to public school, an ambition I'd long had, I segued into the the same look my peers worked so hard for. Back then,(the sixties) I had girlfriends who already attended public school groom me into a 'cool' high school coed. (BOYS ! who knew??) with that came teased hair, white lipstick and very short skirts.


Then came motherhood and marriage, and of course, the requisite uniform of the day - painters paints or jeans and a tshirt with formula stains on the shoulders. That lasted a few years and then came, (wait for it)


DISCO!



Designer jeans, silky shirts, platform shoes and dance lessons. Music I hope I never hear again.



Then as my children grew older and busier,and my marriage fell apart, I went back to school. A catholic school, but no uniforms, thankfully, or I would've gone to plan "B"



I went back and graduated as a certified surgical technician. Landing in the operating room, thrilled to be there and had no qualms whatsoever about driving to work in sweats to jump into scrubs and sterile gowns. Life was easy !


I ended up in scrubs for 25 years. Loved it. Eventually I went into private practice: cosmetic surgery and vision correction. Less anguish, more money. There was a lot of front work in that field, it was, basically, retail medicine. Thus, the need for colorists and manicures. I went full circle in my lifetime.


But, now, I get to be grandma, and my little Luca thinks I am the greatest! Grandma is fun to climb on, breaks all the rules and will give him whatever he wants, (within reason) whenever he wants it.  The requisite uniform for this happy task, is, once again, jeans, Uggs, soft shirts and comfort.


So who cares if my hair is gray and I am without make-up or manicures?


Evidently, everyone!


I wish my family and friends would organize their interventions instead of painfully picking me apart on a one on one basis. I have heard from all sides that I must get to a salon and pull myself together. The holidays are coming, parties, plans and we must look our best. I guess the gray hair and the ragged nails make me look older, which is not the gold standard.


I'm very comfortable in my retirement, I like being this age !  Why can't I look it? Better yet, why can't I find the gumption to stand up to these people who love me so much?


(Oops, there it is, I've said "gumption") now, that's enough to drive me to the fountain of  youth ! 


I've made the appointments already.



Once Upon a Time....

 I used to keep a journal. For years, I kept a journal. I still have them, boxes of them and I wish I'd never stopped. A whole lot has happened to me and years went by undocumented. It's because I caught someone (an ex) reading them. He had been at it for hours while I was away. Our relationship was ending and I guess he was trying to understand it. I couldn't understand why he stooped so low as to affirm my decision to part company. He kind of proved my point. But he robbed me, too. I was crushed by that invasion. It felt like rape. When I asked him if he learned anything from reading my innermost thoughts, he stated that he learned I had never lied to him.


I began blogging in April of this year, after reading others blogs online. I have favorites I check in on routinely, and I could spend a whole day perusing new ones.


I find them so interesting, some are funny, while others are sad, documenting illnesses or transitions. Some have scads of followers, others don't list theirs. The cool thing about a writing a blog is that it isn't meant to be private, like a journal. But that's exactly the same reason it isn't so cool. You have to edit yourself for that very reason. I, of course, have no filter, so I try to keep my observations general, names changed to protect the not so innocent.


When I began, it was rewarding. I get emails sometimes from readers. That's nice. Sometimes, people comment after a column, not often,but it's appreciated. The thing is, when I began I had so many subjects to cover, so many ideas. I was resolute in not wanting to come off as whiner, ala Andy Rooney, who made quite a nice career for himself, complaining like the curmudgeon he'd become.


But now, I'll start to write and realize I've already covered the topic at hand. Or I'm just writing to sound off about some real or imagined slight, or some hot topic that would piss people off. I can do that everyday on my Facebook page. And I do. I can't believe any of my republican friends still keep me as their 'friend.'  (Actually, I can't believe I have any friends at all, who are republican!)



The point is, I've tapered way off since the beginning. I've gone from three times a week, to a couple, to maybe twice a month. I still enjoy it, I do not find it theraputic and I get disappointed in myself during my dry spells. Luckily, there's a whole cyberworld out there and this isn't an assignment. I can, and do make entries whenever I have the time and/or the inclination. Hopefully, with the changes of the seasons I'll be inspired. It keeps me busy, this blogging, and out of the bars, so to speak.



I'm glad I don't have to make a living at it, I think I'd be really hungry, because "Easy reading is damn hard writing." 


(Nathaniel Hawthorne)

Loose Lips Sink Ships

Trust no one. Especially me.


I am a keeper of secrets. This is definitely not where my talents lie. I warn people not to tell me things. I can't take the pressure. I know that I am more successful as I get older, but how much longer can I be expected to keep mum ? I know stuff I don't even want to know.


In my world, if I have something even mildly interesting, I've gotta share it. As long as it's about me. When it's not about me, I try to wait patiently until the all clear has been given, or I hear the same scoop I'm guarding from someone else's lips.I have secrets with people myself, where I've confided in someone, after warning them to "keep it in the vault!"  As far as I know, I choose wisely. Nothing has come back to bite me the ass (yet.)


This past week I was a counter-spy, working for my daughter and her husband regarding their fifth anniversary. I was on the phone and at the mall, arranging surprises for each of them, unbeknownst to the other. Fortunatly, I pulled it off. I babysat while they went out to celebrate and was greatly relieved when they returned, giddy with their success in subterfuge. They were giddy, I was exhausted !


As stated earlier, if it's about me, I'm going to spread the word. I never learn. Discretion is the better part of valor, but valiant, I'm not. I once greatly distressed my employer when I told someone in confidence that I had gotten an offer I couldn't refuse. Imagine my chagrin when, after submitting my resignation, and having it declined, he returned to me to say how floored he was that he was the last to find out. At least I had the grace to blush, it was the least I could do, I felt horrible. Still, he counter offered, and one of my biggest regrets, career wise, was not taking it. But that's a whole nutha topic.


The older I get, the better I've become, but rather than taking pride in that, I have to admit that I'm still not all that noble, I'm just forgetful. So, confide in me if you must, but never tell me not to tell. I'll make a mental note, but  I've got a mind like a sieve, so don't hold me to it.

This column is my disclaimer, and with any luck, I'll remember I wrote it.

The Life of Riley

A little over a month ago, I took a giant leap of faith. I adopted a puppy. I wrote about it before it happened, before I truly realized what I was getting into. Make no mistake, I've got no regrets, but I'm mildly surprised by the change in my routine.



We found her on the internet and picked her up in Ohio. I'm in Michigan, so, not really a pilgrimage. I'd named her Maggie, sight unseen, but that proved to be wrong. Just wrong. A friend came up with Riley, and that one stuck. It's a reference to an old tv show and it seems Irish, so we ran with it. Riley Rae, to be exact.


Riley is like a blender without a top. I recently put my old girl, Ms. Georgia, to sleep. I was in a comfortable routine with her, with her personality, her loyalty and the calm that is present in the mature dog. We had it down. No surprises, nothing more than the very comfortable routine that two souls who've spent a lifetine together enjoy.


"Gone, like the wind that swept through Georgia." (apologies to Margaret Mitchell)


In place is a new day dawning. A change has come and has rocked my world.


This little thing is a mistress of mischief !  She is so comical, so full of surprises, neither of us are ever bored. I wish I knew how that tiny brain works. It's best I don't, I could never keep up, I'm sure. I'd forgotten so much after all these years, of the chaos that is puppydom.



Riley gets ideas that are mind boggling., She's such a personality and her antics are so off the wall that it's almost a joy to see what she comes up with next. I know this: I should've named her 'Bandit.'  She's a thief in the night. She has a cache containing such interesting and often, indispensible items including, but not limited to : the stereo remote, car keys, eye drops,laundry...really anything that isn't nailed down or out of sight. I'm learning and her cache is less full, but really, we have a long way to go.


Riley has no schedule. This is crazy. Hard to fix, though, as I haven't got one either. One of my biggest challenges is consistency. We're getting nowhere (fast) in that arena.


She's a jumper. It is hilarious to be engrossed in a book or a tv show and all of a sudden have a dog jump into your line of vision. Literally and repeatedly. bongboingboing!  She's not a chewer of things, thank goodness, but she is rambunctious and loving, quite a cuddler, and I'm full of little puppy bites. We both have a lot to learn.


I'm so glad you're here, Riley, welcome to my world. I'm having a grand time in yours.



September Gave a Party

Today is a perfect day. Not weather wise, it's raining...but it's the end of September and the beginning of fall, the best time there is, as far as I'm concerned.



Today, my plans changed, so I found myself at home, with nothing much to do. Of course, there's always stuff to do, if you're that kind of person, one who has a 'list.'  I have a mental list going, always, but, since I have a mind like a sieve, it's not all that compelling, (lucky for me.)




This time of year may be special to me because of my birthday, which is right around the corner, or because I love the daylight savings schedule, the change in the landscape and in the weather.  Autumn has such great memories for me, kind of delicious and cozy.




It's time to winterize everything. Time to get out the throws and tablecloths and  light candles, turn on lamps before it's even dark and relax with a good read. Time to check out my sweater collection and think about Thanksgiving. I love this time of year.



My birthday is one which is mildly interesting. I cannot believe I'm turning sixty-two. How is this possible?  It's not a milestone,for most people, but it feels like one to me. So much has happened in my life, many things most people never experience, let alone survive. Some good, some, not so good.



But the most baffling thing about being 62 is looking in the mirror, or at pictures. I'm always mildly surprised to see that my blonde hair is gray and that I have laugh lines. I still look like myself, or at least resemble the girl who used to live in here. And I still feel like myself, most days. Then there are the days when arthritis strikes and my knees kill me or my wrist makes me gasp in quick pain.  There are days when my endurance is short-lived and I wonder what happened.

Life happened. I turned around and I live in a condo, my kids are 'grown and flown' and I get to relive those precious years as a mom, but from a better perspective. As a Grandma, I get to see generations of my family and enjoy the moment. I no longer have to worry about homework (mine or theirs) or extracurricular nonsense or schedules. Retirement took away all the stress that caused my gray hair and fine lines.


And it was worth it.

"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."

thank you,

John Lennon

No one's said it better.

With friends like those......

There are all kinds of sayings about friends, but the one that's sticking in my head lately is the one about friends who come and go, are in your life for a reason or a season.  I've written about my friends before, about being so fortunate to have so many for so long.


But, you never hear about the ones that got away. The ones you never forget, or in my case, think of frequently. The ones you can't reconnect with, no matter how hard you try. I've got two of those and I miss them both.


The one I've known the longest has, seemingly, dropped off the face of the earth. Even with social networking and several of us trying, we cannot locate this terrific part of our then circle. Naturally, we fear the worst, but hope for the best.


The one I've known the best, the one I've been closer to than anyone else, ever, is gone for good. And I only mean that figuratively. She still walks among us, she just walked away from me, and I know not why.



We never had an argument, never discussed anything that might have gone wrong. We never dreamt we would ever be apart. But, for some reason and in some way, I offended her. Not only did she not confront me, she just left. We went from (at least) four phone calls a day and being together after work (almost every day for twelve years,) to nothing. That was eight years ago. I tried, believe me, I tried, to resolve whatever it was that went wrong. But calls went unanswered. It's as though I never existed.


The thing is, I am not one to hold a grudge, (they're so heavy)  so this kind of treatment is inexplicable to me. I've moved on, I have, but every now and then, very late at night, or stuck in traffic, my pal randomly jumps into my mind and I wonder what happened.


It kills me to think I ever wounded anyone so deeply that they cannot forgive me or worse, consider me dead. I'm on good terms with my exes fercrissake !



Interestingly, years ago, she told me that I let too many people back into my life. I might mention a phone call out of the blue from someone in my past and how tickled I was by it. Oh, the irony ! Now,I would love to let her back into my life, but have exhausted my efforts.



Until I die, I will always wonder what happened between me and my BFF but...

"Love is blind

Friendship tries not to notice"

(I'm glad I am so loved)



Don't let this Happen to You

Just when you think you've heard it all...


You get surprised again.  I've come to realize I wasted my entire career working my ass off in medicine.  I wish it had occurred to me to become a 'Life Coach.'   (whatever that is)


Do these people have credentials? Can they run their own lives, or are we supposed to learn from their mistakes?  When I looked into it, unbelieving, I learned that your coach is available by phone,for one hour sessions as many times a week as you can afford. They throw in complimentary emailing, of course.


You can discuss all aspects of your life. Children, spouses, career, friendships, pets. (you may want to separate your problems with your pet and consult a pet psychic, instead. More on that later)


These life coaches believe that you have all the answers within yourselves. It is their job to guide you into discovering what you already know. (I have friends for that, but hey, that's just me) I guess the difference between that and a psychologist is that insurance will pay for psychology. I would rather pay for lunch with a good friend who's heard it all before, who, for a salad and dessert, will listen again.


What gets me, is that these vultures exploit people overtly by preaching that the answers are within themselves. They exploit those who lack confidence, are timid and have been significantly hurt by events in their lives. They are seeking recovery. What an easy mark. Drives me crazy.



I guess if you have money to burn, no sense of self worth and plenty of time, it might be the path for you. Personally, when I'm in crisis, I get through it with prayer, a little help from my friends and hope.  In serious crisis mode, I turn to my own life coaches, Ben & Jerry.



I figured out all on my own that I have an amazing ability as a pet psychic.
For example, your dog told me that he loves meat and wishes you would stay home more.


That will be $300.00. I'm sorry, but I'm unable to bill your insurance.