How old am I?

Wait? How Old Am I?

I don’t know when I started doing this, but lately I keep asking myself, “How old am I?” It’s not that I’m shy about letting people know my age, but instead that I’m having a hard time realizing that the number associated with my birth date is how old I’m supposed to feel.

I can remember a time when I looked at people in their 40’s and thought, “Wow! They’re old!” But yikes! Just the other day I found a hair on my chin. Now I’m not talking about a “new- chick-from-the-egg downy fuzz”. No, I’m talking about one long, spiky, fatal follicle.  Also, I’ve had to start wearing readers so I can decipher the size 3 font used on packaging (do you think eye wear companies pay to have tiny print put on products?).  And where did those wrinkles come from? Not all the wrinkle-reducing, age-defying cream in the world will help those fine lines. In addition, just when I think I’ve figured out how to muddle through my computer and smart phone it’s time to upgrade and figure it out all over again, causing my brain to overload.

But the final and last straw to all this are my (adult) children! They’ve started treating me differently; in an incredibly patronizing way. You shouldn’t do this; you might want to do that.  It’s not like I’m sunbathing in a bikini or taking a cross county motorcycle trip.

In fact, I’m not interested in spending my 50’s pretending I’m 30, but my very own offspring at times treat me as if I’ve crossed over into paranoia. OK. Maybe I am overly suspicious, excessively wary and unreasonably distrustful.  I mean, come on…doesn’t everyone lock their car in the garage? And even though I vowed I would never be that “old lady” who unapologetically blurts out whatever comes into her mind, without any filter, I might have to admit, I sometimes find myself helping others see the errors of their ways through my eyes.

Recently I went to a high school reunion. I stepped into the room, looked around and saw no one I knew. Surely, I was in the wrong room. But after confirming with the name-tag-door-greeter, I found out I was, indeed (!), in the right place – but everyone had changed; even though I had not!  How did this happen? Again, it made me ask, how old am I?

Maybe I’m looking at this all the wrong way. Perhaps I should realize getting older has its advantages. Hey! It took me all these years to finally feel confident in this skin, a bit bruised and battered but definitely braver and more determined.  I keep telling myself age breeds maturity and confidence. Over the years, I have learned that Life has a way of throwing curve balls and, as a result, I don’t always get everything right. I’ve started looking at mistakes as, well…opportunities. I’ve learned that as long as I am blessed with good health and have the love of my family, everything else in this life is a bonus.

I will never want Botox (I want to embrace those laugh lines), or dye my hair (gray is the new beautiful), and will continue mastering the art of being a lifelong learner (because pretending to know what it’s all about only gives you a deer-in-the-headlights look. Instead, if you find yourself in a situation where you have to forge forward without knowing, the trick is not being found out before you can get home to Google it).

So as long as health and memory hold out (and that is being debated even now amongst my posterity), I want the coming years to be more rewarding; more relaxing; more restful. The truth is…I don’t think I mind getting older after all and I think I’ll just forget my actual age number. Ahhhhhh…There’s a certain freedom to it. I can do anything I want.  I’m old.  

Ice cream for breakfast, anyone?

Resolving Resolutions

There are few things that fill me with exhaustion more than the dread of rushing through yet another holiday season…..so many holiday cards to address and send; gifts for everyone from your great-great-great niece to the fifth cousin removed from your sister-in-law’s mother. And that music!! Without coming off as Scrooge, the sound of jingling bells, merry chimes and HoHoHo’s need to come to a halt by the time January arrives.

The way I see it, the New Year is a way of taking a deep breath, slowing down and starting over.

If you noticed, I didn’t say anything about resolutions. In my book, resolutions are not a way of retarding the ever-increasing way most hustle and bustle through Life. Personally, I don’t need the additional pressure (or guilt) of coming up with yet another way I can become the perfect person. I think we’ve all lived long enough to know that a “one day promise” to change our life is not going to make us better or improved.  In fact, by the time the ball begins to fall and hits the ground, most of us have devised a way to get out of the little contract we’ve devised in our minds.

Sure, I know we’ve all resolved to eat better, exercise more and keep up to date with our emails, but these are everyday undertakings that we should be aware of for our own physical well-being and peace of mind; not as a chore that seems doomed before it has begun. But truly, if I am to be pressed about making New Year’s resolutions, then I say, instead of making them for myself, I’d like to throw out a few I wish others would make:

~ Be courteous. Leave hostile in the gutter where it belongs. We’re all in this journey of Life together. Let’s at least try to get along. Basic manners work here. Please. Thank You.

~ Put down the Phone when talking to others (better yet, leave it in your pocket).  Contrary to what you may think, no one is interested in any conversation you may be having and having a talking device attached to your ear does not make you important. Um, I think this goes along with being courteous.

~ Clean up after yourself. It never amazes me how sloppy and disrespectful people can be. One thrown piece of paper from a gum wrapper could add up to a whole community of waste blowing in the wind. We’re all grown up here and no one should have to pick up after us; did I mention courteous?

~ Hold the door open for a stranger. We can all use a little bit of help from time to time. Now, because your phone is in your pocket, you can extend a courteous act.

~ Smile. I know you’ve all heard how smiling uses less muscles than frowning or how just the act of smiling psychologically sends “feel good” neurotransmitters to the brain, but a smile is a gift you can give away for free. And they are contagious. So just think, because you are not on your phone 24/7 you can help someone with a gracious (which is synonymous with courteous), simple smile.

See how by one act, kindness grows; how one resolution really becomes five? And because I believe these acts should be every day, spontaneous knee-jerk reactions to others, I’ll also resolve to enforce them .

Carpe Diem!

Holiday Fun!!

Swimmin' Santas

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Some Things Never Change

After 37 years, there is at least one certainty that never grows old: Eddie, the sock thrower. 

And as a result, I have been dubbed the "Sock Maid". 

Now I know this does not sound like an elegant or even prestigious status, but I own this title. 

Let me explain.

There is a nightly ritual that occurs between the time Eddie rolls into bed and covering himself with the sheets. 

He tugs and pulls, aims and launches first one sock and then the other towards the general vicinity of the laundry hamper. Depending on the time of night, lighting and general strength of the tired heave, they can land up anywhere in the room. 

I've found lonely soles under the bed, behind the armoire, hanging from lamps; even in the plants.

When he first started this fling, hurl and chuck, I was tempted to leave those separated pairs just to see how many would pile up and for how long. However, after a day or so, I realized that if I left them to their awkward landings, over time, I would have piles of mismatched, unrelated, colorful clusters of foot ornaments and decorations. Besides, the methodical (some call it OCD) part of me finds it impossible to walk past a stray right or left, balled up, dirty sock just begging to be placed in its proper place. So what do I do? Yup. I pick up that smelly, turned-inside-out piece of fabric and then I search for it's companion. 

I help them find their way to the wash. 

Every. Single. Morning. 

After 13,505 bends and picks you'd think I'd have six pack abs, but I assure you, I have a ways to go as I've had a few days off for holidays and good behavior.

I know. I know. My feminist sisters out there, all for equal rights, will most likely set up a coup to liberate me from such an "atrocity". They are horrified by the idea! But let it be known here and now. I like picking up his socks. It's not a forced drudgery. In fact, it's a rather mindless act; I automatically collect and deposit, collect and deposit on my way to my usual morning rituals.

 I think of it this way: every lobbed sock in the evening gives me the hope that I will wake up the next morning beside my mate; every stray sock I save in the morning is the start of a new day with Eddie.

Like those socks, Eddie and I are a pair. We may get worn down, tossed and separated. We may get holes that need darning and mending; stones that need wresting. But in the end, we belong together and find our way back to each other. 

We're a couple. A set. A twosome. 

He puts more Carpe into my Diem.

I am thankful for every moment I have with this amazing man. He sees my flaws yet he focuses on my heart. 

As a duo, we spend hours talking. And talking. And talking. 

Ours is a simple life: we eat, we walk, we nap we read. Together. 

I feel grateful and blessed; I've been married to the same man for 37 years and have never felt closer to him. 

In fact, I can't imagine a life without him and when I think about it, I realize I've always wanted to be married. To him.

Like a million washings, this is a transformation that has taken place over time. It is the result of a million disagreements, a million apologies, a million kindnesses, a million tears, a million laughs and smiles. 

Our life together has washed us into a soft, aging, near-perfect fit. I am still falling in love and yes, 

I'll always be Eddie's Girl.

So today, on our anniversary, just to prove I find joy in castaway hosiery, I think I'll give Eddie a new pair of socks... just to keep it going.

~ Love like there is no tomorrow

 and if tomorrow comes, 

Love again ~

 Max Lucado

Hello my name is Beth and I'm married to a Fit-bit-aholic

When Eddie got a FitBit as a gift for Christmas last year, my first thought was, "OK. Just another gadget that will find its way to the drawer of once-used-never-to-be-seen-again misfit gadgets." 

Oh! How wrong I was! 

 The first few days Eddie started out slowly, walking several miles a day to achieve the American Heart Association's 10,000 step goal-per-day; equivalent to 5 miles. 

Like most people, reaching 10,000 steps on a given day would mean putting some effort into his activities. So he got serious. Now, each day he HAS to "Jiggle" ~ his word for the sensation you feel when the LED lights flash on your wrist upon reaching your target. 

"Jiggling" has become an obsession with Eddie.

 Shopping in below freezing temps? Too bad. We have to walk from the furthest parking spot so he can "Jiggle". Need to drop in at the mall to pick up a quick gift? The probability is that the perimeter of the mall needs walking; to "Jiggle", of course. Elevators and Escalators are bad words. Why use them when you can maximize on steps? Going to a casual party? The hors d'oeuvres table takes on new significance. Calculated correctly, several trips could gain one an extra 2,000 steps. Or one mile; assuming your stride length is 2.5 feet long and you keep the pace and speed moving as you talk. 

 At times, when the weather is colder and the daylight shorter, the steps have to be taken inside. The house, I mean. While this may seem fine to most, especially since we have a state-of-the-art treadmill, it is a quandary to Eddie. He hates walking in one place. As a result, there are times at 10 o'clock, PM that is, when the daily step achievement hasn't been met. He then begins to race with the tenacity of the Road Runner up and down the hallway, up and down steps, figure-eights around the living room furniture, counterclockwise around the dining room table, round and round the little rug in our bedroom....you get the picture. This behavior wouldn't disrupt the sleeping patterns of others in the house if he did it quietly, but no, you hear him puffing, huffing and swinging those arms like a windmill. And once those steps are achieved, anyone within the 5-mile hearing range gets the "I JIGGLED!!!" update. It's amazing to see how much bliss this little doodad gives a former leather chair recliner. Think Pavlov's bell. Reinforcement. Reinforcement. Reinforcement. 

 To amp it up a bit, Eddie's Smartphone now has an app that tracks his calories. The new math is: Calories - Steps = Weight Lose. In addition, the steps have begun to take on another dimension. Distance travelled. To date, according to this silent surveillance, Eddie's Lifetime steps are 2,794,536. Or 1,359 miles. In other words, if he had started walking last December, he'd be in Utah today.

 Perhaps he's the next Walk Across America candidate? 

 Who would have thought that a lightweight, silicone wristband could be the taskmaster of a single completed movement? The overseer of forward advancement? The Head Honcho of good health? I won't even go into the features it has to track your sleeping activity, patterns and efficiency (Fitbit's words, not mine), how may stairs your steps convert to or how many active minutes you've had in the day. To intensify and reinforce the experience, this little tracking tool even sends you congratulatory messages notifying you of your "Champ"! or "Overachiever" status! 

 Feeling a bit left out, I started looking around at wrists everywhere. On the street. At work. Grocery shopping. Even Baby Showers. Sure enough, more people than not are wearing these tracking widgets: FitBit, Jawbone, Nike & Vivofit. Keeping in fashion, Tory Burch has designed a FitBit in signature colors, patterns and designs so it can be worn as a stylish, trendy accessory. Now one can even attend a Black Tie event and "Jiggle"! Exercising has never been so chic! As a result, there's no need to feel guilty if you don't reach your daily ambition since you're at least being posh about it. No worries mate (!), tomorrow's tracking starts from scratch. 

A new day. Tabula rasa. 

So what's not to love about a bit of wrist supervision? 

 Lately, I'm having visions in my head of us both trying to keep up with this fitness management strategy (mine in Tory Burch Multi Fushia, please). Eddie and I will text all day: "Did you "Jiggle" yet?", comparing step counts, challenging each other on the Leaderboard and competing for Badges. All our conversations and activities will center around what we need to do to reach the coveted step goal. In our shared mission to become prodigies for Walkers World Wide, I see us passing each other in the hallway, high-fiving each other during our near-midnight frenzy to "Jiggle". 

 I'm trying real hard not to succumb to the peer pressure of it all. I keep repeating to myself: I. Do. Not Need. A. Fitness. Tracker. I. Do. Not. Need. A. Fitness. Tracker. As I see it, I have two choices: Start a support group for those of us who have to put up FTS...Fitness Tracker Syndrome or start walking and get counting - one-step, two-step, three-step, four...

I Heart Photo Challenge/Framed

Here is my I Heart Faces entry for this month:

JEEPIN' IT

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In Search of Thanksgiving

Somewhere between raking massive heaps of wind swept leaves and chestnuts roasting on an open fire, a holiday has gone missing. Commercialism and Consumption has taken over. The focus has shifted from families sitting around the table enjoying good food and company to the biggest and best deals of Black Friday. When I grew up, this Friday was known simply as "the day after Thanksgiving." Now, it has its own special name and delirium, overshadowing a day purposed for thankfulness and gratitude.

Instead, the week before that forgotten Thanksgiving holiday, we are bombarded in our emails, newspapers and mail fliers with the updates of retail sales shouting: INCREDIBLE!! HUGE!!. Every day. After all, you wouldn't want to miss that, would you? Lists are made and checked twice to see which stores open what time (really? 3AM?) and which have which deal. Advertisement cleverly creates a gray area, associating a "want" as a "need". The shop-til-you-drop euphoria creates breathless excitement before one has even left home.
This kind of commercial hype is catchy and the media has capitalized on it.

However, our society pays dearly for this madness.
We spend more time away from our family and friends;
shopping and working; working and shopping.
Our activities have distracted us
from the true meaning of our existence.

We need to bring back leisure time and vacations.

Time spent together.

Now I'm no Scrooge, I love to give gifts to my family and friends just as much as anyone, but when one thinks of all the credit card debt, all the wrapping paper sent to the dump and the general stress one has to endure, the whole frenzy takes on a sinister side. And to think that some even dare to extol frivolous shopping as a way to boost the health of the economy. This kind of thinking only encourages the making, selling and trashing of consumer goods. Goods are made to break. When did we get to be so materialistic?
It is true, it is good to give. But much of the spending during this time is continent on receiving.
And in all this rush and bustle, in all this craze and hysteria, we often get the adverse affect:
Cranky, Rude, Impatient Shoppers.
We need to take back Thanksgiving so we can go into the Christmas holiday season with the right attitude.

So. What shall we do?
Put Thanksgiving back in its rightful place.
In our hearts.
Dwell on the bounty and gracious gifts you have.
Contemplate how even the struggles make us stronger.
Grab hold of your family and share memories; time spent with family is an undervalued commodity.
Keep it light and laugh. Alot.
Bake together. Play some board games.
Volunteer your time to a Charity.
Create traditions.
Use the extended Thanksgiving time to focus on being connected with your loved ones.
Instead of counting down days 'til Christmas with dread, enjoy the special Joy of the season.

Instead of wanting more, become content.

Be thankful.

Which brings me back to that beloved forgotten holiday:

Thanksgiving.

We have SO MUCH to be thankful for.

Not too long ago, our area had a severe storm.
We lost electricity and heat for 5 days.
The experience taught me that it is easy to be thankful when your house is warm, you are eating delicious meals and you can read your favorite books by the light of a lamp.
But when the storms of life come
 -and they do- thankfulness isn't so easy.
It's hard to express appreciation
when your world is upside down.

And yet, that is when I learned about it the most.

Don't look at thankfulness as an emotion of the heart but, instead, as an action; a verb that requires attention and consistent practice. Then you will see that a thankful heart shifts the focus of attention from yourself to others.

Let's not let Thanksgiving get lost again this year.

Put aside all those Christmas thoughts until
Thanksgiving weekend is over.
Give it the full attention it deserves.

 Give Thanks. Be Gracious.

And please, save me a drumbstick.

~ Please feel free to go to

 http://www.seizingtimetoday.blogspot.com/

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