Living Past 40: An Update

So, I'm sitting here and I'm in awe.

 If you remember or even care (wait, if you didn't care, you wouldn't be reading this...never mind...) the whole reason for this blog was to celebrate my upcoming 40th birthday. And, I missed it. My immune system totally rebelled and I missed the 40th birthday party celebration with my bro-in-law and sis-in-law that I wasn't supposed to know about.

I had:
the Flu
Pnumonia
a Sinus infection
Bronchitis

The kids and my hubby had:
Mystery Illness a la Wild Child
Ear infection
Strep throat

AT THE SAME TIME!

Seriously, like, every time one of us came back from the doctor, we just added a new illness to the list, nobody ever had the same thing, we just kept getting new stuff. It was a smorgasbord of toilet tissue and snot and

"What are you doing? 
You can't take a nap! 
I need HELP!!!"

We all felt awful!

At one point we were at the pediatrician's begging,

"Where can I hire a nurse? I've got to get SOME SLEEP!!!!"

My kids' doctor sent me upstairs to a "grown-up" docotor because he said that I looked so bad that, if it was up to him, he'd put me in the  hospital. Yeah, it seriously sucked.

My hubby missed TWO WEEKS of work and I'm still sorta discombobulated - 3 months later, I still just can't get my focus or my energy back.

My hubby finally, after we were all well, gave up and took me out to eat with some friends to celebrate my birthday...two months too late. It was fun.

BestBarnFriend and me and our families.

And then, he tells me: he's been trying to surprise me for TWO months. He's set and reset the date over and over. First we got sick and then the worst tornadoes since before 1974 wiped out our home area in North Alabama (it's still bad -even if the national media has gotten bored and moved on -DONATE now to the Red Cross). The poor man could not win for losing.

Today, I went to my hubby's email account (okay, I'm  not snooping, we need an email and it was lost in the VAST cyber No Man's Land that is my husband's email -seriously you could hide a Buick in there.)

("You could hide a Buick..." no, that doesn't date me AT ALL  <sarcasm> :) )

And, I found SOME of the birthday emails that he has been sending out to my friends and family since early February.



"Cantankerousness and orneriness," me? Really? :)



This is a man who just does not "do" social. And he did it over and over and over...for me. He'd compiled lists of  hotels for people to stay in, he'd sent out email after email after email (and the man HATES email, hence the No Man's Land mentioned earlier.) He kept secrets from me and he does not keep secrets from me. He bent over backwards and then bent further. And, he tells me that it's not just him - our family and friends did this, too. They made plans and canceled them and remade them- and most of these people were going to have to drive about 4 hours to get here- my 1st cousin/sis-in-law/friend made TWO cakes (it was supposedly delicious, they ate it while counting the trees that were on their house -FIVE!!!- and thanking God for their safety.) Our kids were coming.  Wow!

They said it was "the best cake she's ever made."
"Red velvet with cream cheese filling and frosting...with black buttercream fondant on top."
 My mouth waters.

In the words of my mother-in-law,

"Feb.23, Mar. 12, Mar. 19, or April 30

...the changing days of your surprise party. "

People all around me, unbeknownst to me, were stretching themselves out beyond what is reasonable to give me not one party but SEVERAL.

And, K-Man is still apologizing that he couldn't pull it off.

"But we were so sick and then the tornadoes hit..."

Seriously????? Oh, man! He never gets the words out before I'm hugging him.

"Babe, you just can't fight Mother Nature."

 I feel like an incredibly loved middle-aged woman.

What a way to start "40."

Thanks to y'all, you know who you are!

And then, there were those folks who did make it to my "Birthday in April" week (none of them came just for the "April Birthday,"  but how cool that they did get here (!):

I hadn't seen These People (love, love, love them) IN YEARS
and they ended up coming to our house for a couple of nights...

...and bringing this painting. Their daughter, a former art student of mine
(and a member of the Favorite Person Club,) painted it
and sent it to me for my 40th birthday present.

This is Oldest Child, he came the day that These People left and spent his 16th birthday with me.

This is Step-son. He came the day that Oldest Son
 left and ended up at my "Birthday Party in April."

40 is turning out to be epic in very unexpected ways!

(And, my hubby ROCKS!!!)

“Elvis Has Left the Building.”

Hey! What are you still doing here?

No, really!  I turned 40, the show is over (perhaps we could consider doing a “Reunion Tour” right before “50.” hahahaha Wouldn’t that be a hoot!)

MMMMMMMAAAAA! Hugs and kisses to you, tell your momma and them, I said “Hi.”

See you soon!

Now, run on home, go on, git!

(Lock the door behind you. And, make sure the cats don’t get out!)

Bye, now!

The Last One

"Happy Happy Birthday, to Me, to Me to Me!"

Well, I did it. I've written 54 of these things, counting this one. I am proud of myself. Writing twice a week for 6 months, compiling it into something readable by other people and then actually getting up the guts to POST it was not a small thing.  Yay, me!

I’ve learned some stuff, too.

I’m anal about my writing, I already knew this but I kept catching myself going back to posts that I knew people had stopped reading and correcting some minute error. (Who am I kidding? I go back and correct posts on Facebook all the time.)

I am surprised at the top ten posts - yep, Blogspot kept up with it for me. I don’t know who read what but I do have a general idea of how many times a certain post was read. I think a certain percentage of that is me going back to reread and edit but it wasn’t ALL me. :)

By far, the most read post was:

• Favorite True Story:

followed by:

• Halloween, THANKSGIVING and Then, Christmas
• "...Smell My Feet..."
• Stream of Consciousness About the Day
• 4,5,6,40?
• Sedona, Arizona
• "Hey Slick! She's a Hick!"
• 350 - It Ain't Just a Number on the Oven Dial
• Hmmmm, It Won't Come Off
• You Want Me to Put WHAT in That Cup?

I had readers from NINE other countries besides the US, from as far away as Denmark, Croatia, India. I had one in Turkey too, but she's a hometown girl! :) Hi, sweets!
I had 1,877 page views. That's way cool.

I’ve discovered something else while doing this writing “experiment:” I suck at knowing what people will respond to. Seriously, when I wrote a post, I’d think, Okay, is this true to how I feel? Yep? Good. But I was always surprised at what people reacted to. I’d write a post and think, Let’s see what people say to THAT! and not so much. Nah. Then, I’d write one and wonder if I should even post it and THAT would be the one that I’d get tons of feedback on. It always left me with the feeling of <shrugs shoulders> Who knew? Things that people found funny, that was always a Really? moment, too. I’d think something was mildly amusing and people would be saying, “Oh, I am laughing so hard,” and then I’d post something that I thought was just hysterical and, again, not so much.

Hmmmmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmmmmm Yeah, I got nothing on that.

One thing that I do know, from years of writing stuff, is that people don’t always tell you when something really affects them. I don’t know if they just expect you to know ("she wrote it, she must know it’s good, right?") or if they just don’t know what to say. But, I’ve always been surprised when someone comes up to me and says,

“What you said in that post, yeah, that one, 

it was soooo good. 

I mean it, really, 

I thought about it for days, afterward.”  

Wow.

I’ve learned not to sit around and worry about feedback. It is just NOT a good indication of anything. Well, that’s a lie, I do worry about feedback, it’s just not so hard to put it in it’s proper place inside my head.

Each day, let God whisper the truth of who you are 

and who you are in your heart and mind. 

Filter the opinions of others through the reality that just because they think it-doesn't make it true. Be brave enough to see negative feedback as a possible call to action but not a definition of your identity. And while you enjoy the positive feedback refuse to be bloated by it. -Lysa Terkeurst

What you read on my blog is really just a compilation of "Here's where I've been," which may not be a really accurate depiction of where I am now.

Since I started this journey of "healing" I've sorta realized that up until my early 30s was about surviving, the rest of my 30s was about healing and my 40s ???? are a wide open book.

I'm sorta excited.

But this has been my swan-song.

Here's where I've been, 

here's where I'm going 

and how I'm getting there. 

It's just part of the final step into the next place. I write, that's how I process. Whether or not it was a good idea to write publicly, I don't know. But there is this need to have a "voice," that what I say and what I've been through matters. A voice that will become quieter, maybe, after this process (it could get LOUDER, who knows.)

And, it's been good for me to have taken this risk. I've always been so afraid to make a mistake that I become rigidly still. This may have been a mistake. Mistakes are part of life. It's time I embraced them. 40 has been my mark. Whole-er is my goal.

"It takes courage to grow up 

and turn out to be who you really are." 

- E.E. Cummings

I once saw a book with the title, Turning 50, Lessons at the Half-Way Point. I am sure it’s a great book and I get what they are trying to say but I just can not get past the need to say, “Gonna live to be 100? That’s a little hopeful, don’t ya think?” At 40, I am already more than half-way to the age where the average American dies. In fact, if the average life expectancy is 78, then I reached the half-way point last year. I am a full year too late writing this blog, which brings me to my next point:

This is life, life is terminal. Grasp that, accept that and the whole thing just gets a whole lot easier and much more precious.

"In the long run, we shape our lives, 
and we shape ourselves. 

The process never ends until we die. 

And the choices we make 

are ultimately our own responsibility."  

-Eleanor Roosevelt

There are more adventures left for me just over the horizon, they shine like new pennies in the morning sun and I can’t wait to get there. Don’t just stand there watching the ass-end of my horse as it gallops off into the sunrise, wishing you had the guts to greet tomorrow with a smile on your face - you might as well charge at it with a smile on your face because it’s coming whether or not you want it to and whether or not you feel “ready.”  I promise it won’t always be easy but it’s so worth it.  Come with me into the great Unknown!

Seriously, just lean back, find your balance point and enjoy the ride!

"May your coming year(s) be filled with 

magic and dreams and good madness. 

I hope you read some fine books 

and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, 

and don't forget to make some art 

- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. 

And I hope, somewhere in the next year(s), 

you surprise yourself." 

-Neil Gaiman

It's been fun, thanks for hanging out with me 'till the end, or... the beginning. :)

You Want Me to Put WHAT in That Cup?

I pulled out of the driveway at 2am early this morning and pulled back in, 8 hours later, at 10:15am.  After two bags of IV fluids, a chest x-ray, blood work, a breathing treatment and an EKG, I was told,

“Everything came back normal except that flu test which popped up positive. Go home and lie on your butt until the end of the weekend. There’s not much else we can do.”   

My doctor also looked at me, at one point, and said,

“You don’t look like you’re about to turn forty.”

I guess I should feel flattered. Not so much. I’d take a lot less snot and fewer body aches NOT to have heard those charming words. <sigh> I am sick. Seriously mucho sicko!

I am also disappointed.  I don’t know what K-Man had planned for my birthday but it was a surprise something that included my brother-in-law and my sister-in-law/friend/first-cousin  (yes, she's all those things, it's seriously old-school weird South, I know) coming to my house all the way from Alabama to bring me one of her fabulous signature cakes. <sigh>  I was looking so forward to it. I’ve spent months looking forward to it.

Forty only comes around once and I’m going to be fighting off a virus right when I should be celebrating. We have to tell them. I can not let them run the risk of catching this dreaded and nasty flu. This is crappy. I have visions of not telling them, of just letting them show-up and I’ll attempt “Fun A-Girl,” while feeling like “Yucky A-Girl,” but that would be a lot like yelling out,


         “Surprise, it’s my birthday! And, for my birthday I’m giving you...the flu!!!”

Can’t do it. <sigh>  Looks like this blog (as well as my 40th) is gonna end with a whimper instead of a roar.

UGH!!!

Only a Matter of Time

It finally happened.

Last week, LITERALLY, I looked at my watch and couldn't see the numbers. I haven’t been able to see the date for some time but it wasn't enough to break me out of my denial.

“I do NOT have 40 year old eyes!” 

The words in the books that I've been reading have suddenly shrunk. I'm doing that yo-yo thing with papers that I need to read. Is it clearer here or there? I'm sorta like the old gal version of the "can you hear me now?" guy, only I can't see.  Recently, I was having a conversation with my hairdresser about gettin’ old and she commented,

“The eye thing is real. I woke up one morning and couldn't see to read anything and so I went to the eye doctor who examined me, leaned back and asked, 'So, when did you turn 40?”  

My hairdresser smiled and said,

“I told him, ‘My birthday was two weeks ago!”

When I was in kindergarten it was an election year and on voting day they held a fake election for our little class of 5 year olds. I didn't understand what we were doing at all so I copied the little girl  next to me who circled the name of “Ford,” on her paper. When the numbers were counted in my kindergarten class someone named, “Carter,” had won.

When I got home, my mom was sitting and, very uncharacteristically, watching the Tv, she asked me what had happened during my day.  The way I remember it, she didn’t even look up from her chair, I told her,“I voted for Ford but he didn't win.”  She said, sadly,
“Me too.”

“The Iran Crisis: An America Held Hostage.” 

I remember the yellow ribbons. I remember the newscasts on Tv . I remember the confusion in my little girl head. I remember the general great dislike for Carter as his presidency went on and I remember in high school my history teacher saying that she thought that Carter would be remembered much more positively than he was portrayed as president. Tonight, I’m watching a program on Georgia Public Broadcasting about Jimmy Carter and beginning to put the pieces together between what I remember and what history tells me as an adult. As a president he might have been shaky but, as a man:

In 2002, President Carter received the Nobel Peace Prize for his work "to find peaceful solutions to international conflicts, to advance democracy and human rights, and to promote economic and social development" through The Carter Center. Three sitting presidents, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson and Barack Obama, have received the prize; Carter is unique in receiving the award for his actions after leaving the presidency. He is, along with Martin Luther King, Jr., one of only two native Georgians to receive the Nobel. -Wikipedia, "Jimmy Carter"

40 - I’m starting to lose those things that defined me as “young” but I’m beginning to gain perspective. I've lived long enough to see how stuff plays out. Life isn't so much about “wait and see,” anymore as it is about “this is what I've seen” and that makes me more patient for “tomorrow.” I’ve realized that life happens in stages and that, even though there are times when I don’t understand, Time brings understanding.

And, that is a cool thing.

"Let's Go Krogering..."

Well, the months have passed and now we’re down to a matter of weeks and then days until THE GREAT BIRTHDAY will have arrived and I’ll be 40.  Like an annoying little gnat with impulse control issues, I’ve been buzzing in your ear twice a week for almost 6 months, now.

Big changes are headed my way.  (Aren’t they always?) I’ve been looking forward to “40” because it just seemed to scream, “New Adventure!” And, now that it’s here and I can see the changes right on the horizon…well, it’s a bit unnerving.

***

I’m out of cheese and I can’t be out of cheese, Wild Child could very well starve to death. (I swear, throw a block of cheese and a water bottle into a backpack and that kid could successfully trudge across the Sahara.)  So, I’m off to the grocery store. Joy.

Wild Child is happily playing “Garbage Man,” jumping on and off the front of my buggy as I careen through the aisles finding much more than cheese that I “need.”  I’m not at the grocery store long before I realize something that I’ve known for a while but keep myself in constant denial about: my grocery store is rearranging.

Okay, “rearranging” is a bit ambiguous and not nearly dramatic enough.

They are not rearranging as much as they are completely renovating the store. I should have known it was going to be BIG when, weeks ago, they began to redo THE FLOORS. Now? Complete aisles are GONE and others are facing the WRONG DIRECTION. The pharmacy is in a totally different part of the store. That delightful sign meets me every time the electric doors swish open in front of my face,

“Please visit our pharmacy in it’s new location…..”

I’m not really sure where that is, most days I have enough trouble timing my entrance through said electric doors with numerous small children in tow, much less walking and READING at the same time.

It’s been a bit of an inconvenience the past few weeks,

Don’t they know that I come here BECAUSE I already know where everything is?

Today, it finally got to me. Today I felt this sort of panicky almost claustrophobic feeling. I actually heard myself say out loud, about soup no less,

“I need it but I have NO IDEA where it is!”

It’s not just me.  Other shoppers pass me with stressed-out looks on their faces and make snarky, understated comments like, “Wow, a little chaotic this morning, huh?” Workers at the store look at me and assure me out of the blue, “Just a little longer and it’s going to be great!”  (Do I really look that distressed?)

The thing is that I know it probably will be great.

A few weeks after this is over, you’ll have figured out where everything is and you won’t even remember this. This is an inconvenience but it’s only a grocery store!  It’s only a little change.

Hahahahaha

There’s the real issue: change.
People do not like change.
Even when it may offer better things down the line.
And, I’m a people. I can see changes a’comin’ that make my rearranging grocery store look like a spring day and it’s just scary.

Rita Weems says,

The important thing to keep in mind is that with change comes the invitation to embark upon a journey, a pilgrimage, start a new chapter, confront some issues you need to address. Everything feels out of sorts in the beginning. And it is. But there’s something there for you if you don’t panic. Learning to ride out feeling bewildered and frightened and tapping into the opportunity to grow is vital to the health and wholeness of every woman, because no matter who you are, there is no escaping change. -pg 76, Showing Mary

A-Girl, you've done “change” before. 

Manage the panic and just do the next thing.

You know how to do this. 

Maybe, some day I’ll learn how to do it without all the nuclear melt down moments.

Stream of Consciousness About the Day

Valentine’s Day. It’s not been my favorite for a long time. Actually, it was never my favorite. It was always full of pain. I just wanted it over with so I could ignore it for another year. It was rife with "I'm special to somebody." And, I always felt like a big fat nobody to everybody.
No whining, just the truth.

Then, there’s the whole crazy of having little kids during any holiday. I went to two, count ‘em two, Valentine’s Day parties for my kids at their preschool this year.

Some stay-at-home moms could write how-to books for the dictators of small countries, I swear:

Power, Manipulation and Competition - an Easy Step-by-Step Process for Tyrants

Not any stay-at-home moms that I know, of course. But there are SOME, I’ve heard. :)  These V Day parties, with their over the top Valentine’s, weren’t much different.  Check out the comment of a dad who was standing close to me and watching, as a few of the moms drug out their "kids" Valentines,

“The kids are (oblivious) and the moms are competing. What? Next year some mom will bring Valentines with a mound of Swarovski Crystals on top?”  

Besides being really impressed that he actually KNEW what Swarovski Crystals were, I couldn't get over how astute his observation was. And, glad that somebody else saw it. There I stood, with Middle Child's little store-bought Valentines SANS big gigantic boxes of Sweet Hearts and chocolate and themed pencils (to go with the other 15 themed pencils that we have at home left over from Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas parties), Like they NEED any more candy? and had to fight NOT to hug Stranger Guy standing next to me. Yes! Thank you!  Obesity and consumerism -yep, we start ‘em young!

See that man, the one in the photo? He was my date for Valentine’s this year. Yeah, he’s been my date for everything that I’ve gone to for nearly 8 years, now. That man can drive me crazy faster than anyone I know. “Being married to you can be exhausting,”  I told him the day before Valentine’s Day. He looked at me, smiled a little and said, “Yeah, being married to you can be exhausting, too.” I wondered if he'd considered putting that on the card of my pink tulips that had arrived the day before.  Me? Exhausting? Hahahahahahahaha I'm not opinionated or stubborn or strong-willed! Not me!

Relationship is a two way street, you can't have a relationship if the other person/people won't do their job. It took me a long time to learn that I couldn't have a relationship with someone unless they wanted it as much as I did. Sometimes, relationships fall apart because the other person doesn't want it badly enough and that's not my fault. I tried to make it my fault for a long time but it's not.

This guy? He wants a relationship with me. He feels ownership over our kids and he takes care of them. He comes home every night and gets up to go to work every day. He’s got my back.

I sat across from him, over our steaming pot of fondue and realized that, for the first time in my life, I’m getting comfortable. There is a safety and a security that I’ve never known before, I can be me, the real me, and not worry that that's not good enough, somehow.

And, I don’t find this boring at all. Whoever said that marriage is boring either didn’t know what they were talking about or didn’t know “good marriage.” It’s not boring. On the contrary, it’s safe and that lets you be a little daring in the rest of your life. Knowing that there’s someone in your corner, someone who wants to be there, someone who works just as hard as you do on a routine basis to make it work?

That’s the sexiest damn thing I can think of.

I may even buy him a pack of Sweet Hearts and a themed pencil to show my love.

Nah!

Thursdays with Wild Child

Thursday is one of the days of the week when I have Wild Child home with me, alone. Middle Child goes to preschool from 9 till 1 and it’s just me and the “baby.”

I like these days.

He plays “different” when it’s just him. He also seeks out my attention a lot more.

Very few of these days go by when he doesn’t ask me to read to him. Reading to your children is one of those things that I just take for granted. Some of my earliest memories are of being read to and it’s often the only time when my kids will sit still. (In fact, most of the time they don’t make it all the way through a book without trying to bounce on my head, at least once.) I don’t really push reading. I suggest it sometimes but I think it needs to come from the child- I’m afraid that too much, “Sit still, while I read to you,” becomes “Books are Evil!” in the minds of some kids.   Most kids love to be read to (in fact, I read chapter books to Oldest Child way past the time when he could read them to himself and he requested that I read to him into his early teens) and I’m always surprised when those “read to your children” commercials come on Tv. People have to be told to do this? Well, yeah. Sometimes (often), I have to remind myself to slow down and enjoy it.

Anyway, so when Wild Child said, “Read caterpillar book,” I was not surprised and sorta excited. He picked out three books to read:

The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle

The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats

Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak

He organized them very carefully on the coffee table and climbed up onto "the blue couch," next to me.

“I sit your lap.”
“Put de blanket on me.”

We got cozy.

And, I opened the first book. No matter how many times I’ve read these, no matter how old I get, it’s still like going on a journey.

We have a rhythm and a tradition to The Very Hungry Caterpillar, in fact, some times he just asks me to only read certain pages.

He likes it when I count, "...he ate through 1,2,3 plums..."

I love it when he "reads" these pages to me, "...one swice of sawami..."

It always surprises me
when he remembers the whole thing.

Wild Child's still working out exactly what happens to the caterpillar in the end. He just can't grasp that he becomes the butterfly...and is that a good thing?

I opened The Snowy Day, thankful that we've had so many "snow days" this year and that Wild Child finally has a reference for this book. :)

The Snowy Day was one of my absolute favorites when I was a little girl. Right from when my mom would say,  "The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats," and then turn the page and read the dedication, it was like poetry all the way through.

The colors and the textures! Oh, I loved this book.
The first sneak peek into the mind of the little girl who'd grow up to love poetry and art - here it is!

I remember being fascinated by the snow. Snow was supposed to be white. But, here it's all sorts of colors!

Wild Child loves it when he picks up the stick and makes tracks and when the snow Plops! on his head.

I always thought what a sweet momma she was.
I wanted her to hug me.

I LOVED this pink tub
and to this day I can still feel the moist warm steam
that I was sure surrounded him.

Wild Child says, "Uh! It melted! Awwwww!"

I don't remember really liking Where the Wild Things Are, as a little girl. I'm not sure if that's 'cause I was a little girl and so nobody really read it to me, or I didn't "get" it or if, maybe, it scared me just a little but now when I open it I'm always bum-rushed with emotions.

I'm imagining my husband as he sat on his mother's lap when he was a little boy and she read him his very most favorite book. I'm remembering Oldest Child, sitting on my lap with erasers on all his little fingers, like claws and I'm giggling at Middle Child and Wild Child as they ROAR with the characters.

As soon as we close the book, Wild Child is up and off. "We make Wild Thing puzzle!" Um, okay. Hang on, I'm coming too!

Yeah, books. Boring black words on plain white pages...and so much more.

It's Not Wednesday Yet!

So, lately, I've been catching myself whining to myself about how old I’m getting, about how my years of being extremely active are fading fast, about how I am running out of time to do the things that I've wanted to do. <sniff sniff>

(That wrinkle between my eyes has become so deep, that I swear you could grow corn it. I’m not joking.  This summer, right around the end of August, fully formed popcorn will fly off my face. Wait and see. Which is really not that bad compared to that Turkey-Flap that I’ve now got goin’ on underneath my chin. I am aghast. I was looking at pictures of myself recently, staring at how loose my skin's getting, and all I could think was, That just ain’t right! )

But everywhere that I look, I'm seeing reports of people older than me who are doing amazing things.

(I‘ve read the entire Harry Potter series since Christmas, surely that counts for something, right? I mean the eye strain alone should earn me major kudos, not to mention the elbow ache that I’ve endured from holding those books up so that my nearly 40 year old eyes can actually see the words.)

I read about Laura Vikmanis, who at 42, is the NFL's oldest cheerleader.  In her late thirties she went to a game, saw the cheerleaders, and said to herself, I've always wanted to do that. So, at 39, she tried out for the Cincinnati Bengals' cheerleading squad, the Ben-Gals. She made it all the way to the finals but didn’t make the cut. So, what did she do? Did she tell herself, See? You ARE TOO OLD, Stupid! What were you thinking? Those girls are nearly 20 years younger than you are! and then drag herself and her Depends back home to hide? No. She hit the gym and tried out the next year. And, she made the team.

I learned that George Burns won an Academy Award for his performance in The Sunshine Boys when he was 80 and that Meryl Streep, at the age of 61, has dug herself into a new demanding role, this time becoming Margaret Thatcher in The Iron Lady. She is fearless and brilliant and I can’t wait to see her in this movie.

At 81, Benjamin Franklin effected the compromise that led to the adoption of the U.S. Constitution.

I recently watched, Michael Jackson’s This is It! and discovered that, at the age of  50, he was preparing to spend hours and hours a night singing and dancing. He’d scheduled 50 tours (more?)  in Europe, alone.

I never knew that Golda Meir was elected Prime Minister of Israel on 17 March 1969, right before her 71st birthday (and she was a woman!)

A very cool fact is that at 100, Grandma Moses was still painting (Grandma Moses did not even start painting until she was 75 and did not get her first exhibition until she was 80) and that Bill Shoemaker was 54 when became the oldest person to win the Kentucky Derby.

I giggled to read about a grandmother in Northhampton, England who very recently took on a gang of jewelry thieves on the street with her handbag (and won) and I even found an Arab horse, Elmer, who, at the age of 37, (depending on who you ask, about age 5 -15 is considered “prime” for a horse) is still competing in Competitive Trail Riding.

I found it fascinating that a Belgian man, Stefaan Engels, finished his goal this year of running 365 marathons in a year, THAT’S ONE A DAY FOR A YEAR -  read : he ran 9,569 miles in one year. He’s 49.

But that is not the one that gets me, the one that gets me is that the previous marathon record was held by a Japanese runner Akinori Kusuda, who, in 2009, ran 52 consecutive marathons at the age of 65. Sixty-five! SIXTY-FIVE!!!

Yeah, A-Girl, SHUT UP! It ain’t over till you lay yourself down and give up. 

Here’s to years of great adventures still waiting on me!

Mall Rat

I spent yesterday morning at the mall hunting for something to wear for Valentine’s Day.

I hate shopping.

My hubby has learned the hard way that I need notice to find something to wear. My closet is full of stuff that is appropriate for staying-at-home with children who are covered in "nasty," or for wearing to the barn to get, well, in general, nasty. But, if we just depend on my closet to upchuck something fabulous, at a moment’s notice, it will not end well.
It will turn out... nasty.

Bless his heart, he really has learned this the hard way. I made the STUPID mistake (I’ve made it several times, actually) of asking a man who wears white socks with his black sandals and VERY baggy blue shorts- I’m not kidding, Geek jokes aside, he really does this- what he thought of my thrown-together-straight out-of-the-nasty-closet-Valentine’s-outfit, one year. I gotta tell ya that hearing your spouse spout,

“That’s a lotta red,” 

is not conducive to a romantic night on the town. Hahahahaha

So, this year, he’s already told me,

“I got a sitter and we’re going to dinner 

which means that you have two weeks 

to find something to wear for Valentine’s Day. 

Don’t ask me for details, it’s a surprise. 

‘Business Causal,’ is all I’m telling you.”  

Then, he smiled.

You’ve got to love a man who has learned to dodge the land mine.

Which is why I was at the DREADED mall at 10:30am on a Wednesday. It was not going well. I HATE shopping, have I mentioned this already?  Where do I fit?  I don’t like the “old lady” clothes but the other options ain’t so great either - Juniors,  plunging down to there and cut up to here. That ain’t clothing, it’s a scarf that somebody forgot to put with their coat.

There is a store that I loved as an early twenty-something - even got a job there in college - but I’ve been walking past it for years because 

I’m just too old to shop there anymore.

Then, it happened. I don’t know if the caffeine from my coffee kicked in or if the “Mall-Drugs” (you know it’s true) that I’d been inhaling since I’d set foot in the door of the mall finally reached critical mass or if my Big Girl Panties bunched up into a wad large enough to cause me to remember that I actually had them on but suddenly I thought to myself,
      
       'Nearly 40' be damned, I can too wear that stuff if I like it!

and for the first time in years and years I made a bee-line for my old favorite.  And you know what? I found some stuff that I liked.

I might even go back today and try it on. ;p

Do You Understand Me?!

“I stur-stee!”
My cup is a little bit on the empty side.

“Sit with me!”
"Aristocrats" is so much better when you’re sitting next to me on the couch, Mom.

“Put my hands on me!”
I want to snuggle with you.

“Get the black stuff off!”
Please, remove the captions from the television. They are in the way of my viewing pleasure.

“Attack!”
Set my knights up so that I can knock them down, Dad!

“Meow! Meow! Meow! <puts tail in face> Meow! Meow! <bites hand> Meow! Meow! Meow!"
Stop messing with the computer, sit on the couch and pet me NOW!

“Babe, I don’t know.”
I do know, I’m feeling overwhelmed by your questions, give me a minute to process.

A-Girl is irritable and weepy and nothing pleases her.
I need a hug <whimper>.

Most times, knowing the “language” is half the battle.

Courage AND Wisdom

"Courage is being scared to death
...and saddling up anyway." 

~ John Wayne

Wanna hear the story?

So, my trainer gentles Mustangs. For fun. :)

In 1971, the United States Congress recognized Mustangs as “living symbols of the historic and pioneer spirit of the West, which continue to contribute to the diversity of life forms within the Nation and enrich the lives of the American people.”- Wikipedia

One of the consequences of Mustangs being protected by law is that there’s not much that can be done to control the population of the herds when they get too large. It’s a big ole’ controversy and I am not about to get into it right now. If you’re just dyin’ for more info, you can go here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mustang_(horse)

In an effort to raise awareness and to adopt out the Mustangs, The Bureau of Land Management holds contests in which a horse trainer is given a Mustang fresh off the range. Usually, these Mustangs are relatively young and healthy and a good prospect for gentling. After a set amount of time the trainer returns with the Mustang and competes against other trainers to see who has done the most with their Mustang. Then, the Mustangs are auctioned off to new homes. It’s a cool thing. This year’s contest was in Ft. Worth.

So, after four of these contests, my trainer has done so well at this that she was invited to do “the next hard thing,” - take an older Mustang and see what she can do with it.  The Mustang that she received was RANK ( I think using this term, “rank” which actually means “smelly or bad odor,” to describe a horse that is really unwieldy comes from the times when unbroken, unwieldy, horses really were rank (smelly) because they‘d just come out of the wild and the two things become synonymous. A wild horse is a rank horse, in more ways than one.) He’d spent 4 years as a stallion running the backwoods of Nevada.  In short, my trainer was going to have to contend with one stubborn ass of a horse.  Every reason that he’d managed to stay alive in the wild - he was smart, stubborn, strong-willed, determined to survive, he had unbelievable reflexes - all of this was going to be in the way of him learning to trust humans.

She’d spent several months and done an amazing job with him but then she’d hit a wall.  The horse could not be mounted. She'd tried everything but as soon as the person attempting to mount, who was already behind him, got above his ears he freaked out. “Above and behind,” he could not handle. Normally, she does everything necessary to gentle a Mustang herself, start to finish. But this time, she needed to be on the ground to handle him. He needed her to be on the ground for his own confidence so who’s gonna ride this beast?  Enter me.  Back in the day, I’d done this. I’d started several horses for a couple of different barns. I had the guts to try and the experience to know what I was getting into.  Well, let’s just let the pictures speak for themselves:

Nov 28, 2010

I wasn’t even trying to mount all the way, 

we were just going to get half-way up 

and see what his reaction was. 

Well, he wasn't too happy. :)

The next week I got a bruise to match on the other side.

<snort> Evil saddle.

Hmmm, I’ve gotten a little smarter with age. My body ain’t what it used to be and I don’t want to get hurt.  She wants this done right, not just done. We both know that,

Wisdom says, “Don’t be stupid, people.”

Back to the drawing board. Finally, she talks to our farrier, a guy with lots of experience doing things old-school and they come up with a plan to stop his pattern of bucking.

It worked.

Dec 19, 2010

Three weeks after my first attempt at riding him, I’m up there. He has on a nifty device called a “buck-stop” which keeps him from putting his head down to buck, one of his legs is tied up and she has the lead rope but I’m sitting pretty. Was he happy? No. Did he still try to buck? Yes. But it was manageable and not at all as ugly as it could have been. His pattern of bucking was broken and he learned new ways to react. In less than a week, I was riding him on-line without his leg tied up - walk, sit trot and post trot. The next day, she could get on him by herself, no more bucking.  By the middle of January she took him to Ft Worth and competed. They did very well, all things considered.

End of story. Not all of it, by any means, but enough.

Have ‘Em Sent UPS, the Postal Service Takes Too Long

The thing about being 40ish is that now is the time, for many women, when the “Big Girl Panties” not only have finally arrived but are fixed and firmly in place. Unlike your twenties - when the BGP haven’t even been ordered yet and you’re still trying desperately to make it through life with a thong rammed between your cheeks (it’s an analogy, go with it) -  when you're not sure who you are and a little terrified that whoever you are, you don't measure up to anyone's expectations, including your own, when you're still hoping against hope that you just don't screw your life up.

40 is a lovely time for a lot of women. They finally grow up. And, stop expecting everyone to love them and approve of  them. They’ve accepted their responsibilities and the work that goes along with them and they expect the people in their lives to do the same. Personally, I think it's a groovy time. I've lived long enough to have really screwed my life up once or twice and to realize that...I didn't and I am happier. Life, it goes on and it surprises you.  I'm still freakin' out just a tad about the fact that I am middle-aged - I am, 40 + 40 = 80! -  that, statistically, the whole thing's more than half over. But I'm thinking that, if I take it in 20 year increments, it looks pretty cool. :) 40 is SO SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH better than 20 was, it just makes me almost salivate for 60.

There are times when my BGP are too tight, when they chaff around the edges, but for the most part they are my favorite part of my attire. I no longer leave home without them. I've stopped asking permission, from anyone, to live my life.

“If I have to put my Big Girl Panties on 

one more time and deal with it, 

the elastic is going to bust out and then 

I’ll really have to show my ass.” 

-seen on a sign hanging in Horsetown, Marietta, Ga

The Awakening

-Author Unknown

A time comes in your life when you finally get it ... when, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out - ENOUGH!

Enough fighting and crying or struggling to hold on. And, like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes.

This is your awakening.

You realize it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change ... or for happiness, safety and security to come galloping over the next horizon.

You come to terms with the fact that you are neither Prince Charming nor Cinderella and that in the real world there aren't always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter) and that any guarantee of "happily ever after" must begin with you ... and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.

You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who or what you are ... and that's OK.

They are entitled to their own views and opinions.

And you learn the importance of loving and championing yourself ... and in the process a sense of new found confidence is born of self-approval. You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you (or didn't do for you) and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.

You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and that it's not always about you.

So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself ... and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.

You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties ... and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.

You realize that much of the way you view yourself, and the world around you, is as a result of all the messages and opinions that have been ingrained into your psyche.

And you begin to sift through all the junk you've been fed about how you should behave, how you should look, how much you should weigh, what you should wear, what you should do for a living, how much money you should make, what you should drive, how and where you should live, who you should marry, the importance of having and raising children, and what you owe your parents, family, and friends.

You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. And you begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.

You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with ... and in the process you learn to go with your instincts.

You learn that it is truly in giving that we receive. And that there is power and glory in creating and contributing and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a "consumer" looking for your next fix.

You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.

You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the world and that you can't teach a pig to sing.

You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO.

You learn that the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake.

Then you learn about love. How to love, how much to give in love, when to stop giving and when to walk away.

You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be.

You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes.

And you learn that alone does not mean lonely.

You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs.

You learn that feelings of entitlement are perfectly OK ... and that it is your right to want things and to ask for the things you want ... and that sometimes it is necessary to make demands.

You come to the realization that you deserve to be treated with love, kindness, sensitivity and respect and you won't settle for less.

And you learn that your body really is your temple.

And you begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drink more water, and take more time to exercise.

You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest.

And, just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul. So you take more time to laugh and to play.

You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you believe you deserve ... and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different from working toward making it happen.

More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline and perseverance.

You also learn that no one can do it all alone ... and that it's OK to risk asking for help.

You learn the only thing you must truly fear is the greatest robber baron of all: FEAR itself.

You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens you can handle it and to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms.

And you learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.

You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people.

On these occasions you learn not to personalize things.

You learn that God isn't punishing you or failing to answer your prayers. It's just life happening.

And you learn to deal with evil in its most primal state -- the EGO.

You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy and resentment must be understood and redirected,

redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.

You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls.

You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.

Slowly, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never, ever settle for less than your heart's desire.

And you hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind. And you make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.

Finally, with courage in your heart and God by your side, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best you can.

Yeah, like that.