Then and Now: Walking The Dog

Walking the dog when you are a teen: 1) Put something on feet or not. 2) Put leash on dog because it is the law. 3) Walk/run.

Walking the dog when you are approaching 50: 1) Purchase good quality athletic shoes with excellent arch support and purchase no-blister wicking socks. 2) Use a no tug harness to protect your back. Put leash on dog because if for some reason she gets away you will never be able to catch her. Plus it is the law. 3) Walk with your dog looking back at you every now and then wishing you would walk faster. 4) Upon returning home apply BenGay to lower back and self medicate using ibprophine as needed. 5) Collapse on couch for 10 minutes.

Aging With Adventure: Everything Old Is New Again

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My Grandmother would have been watching her favorite soap (As The World Turns) on a 17 inch TV in the 1950’s, so almost 60 years later how did her granddaughter spend her afternoon? Watching her favorite show (Bones) on a 17 inch computer screen. The fact I am using a computer and my grandmother a black and white TV is irrelevant. We both would have spent a little of our day following the lives and fortunes of our favorite TV characters. She on CBS, me on Hulu.com. The more thing change, the more they are the same.

What was your grandma’s favorite TV show and what is your?

Aging With Adventure: My Own Personal Stash

I have kids so I have stashes all over the house. This is for the sake of my sanity than any desire to go treasure hunting. About 15 years ago after buying yet another hammer after my husband used the last one and the hammer somehow went walk about, I bought my own personal tool kit. All the tools fit in a cool black plastic case and I have not had to go hammer hunting since. No one in my home knows of this tool kit existence. My husband has made more then a few trips to the hardware store to get another hammer. The children got older and became hammer liberators also.

I keep my sewing kit hidden also. If I don’t the thread gets tangled, the pins wander away and the needles I suspect wander after the pins. I have to find a new hiding place after a child borrows the sewing kit. There is something about how the children interact with the sewing kit that causes the pins and needles to disappear. I can’t figure out why this is, my children don’t cause the dishwasher to run and hide or the stove to overheat.

Scissors, I have scissors hidden all over the house. The problem is I can’t remember where they are secreted so I have to buy another pair no matter if the kids uncover one of the hidden ones or not.

For clear tape, I have a different plan. There is a roll in the kitchen draw next to a pair of scissors I am hiding in plain sight and then there is my secret supple. The kids discovered the secret supple so that explains why we rarely have clear tape on hand when needed.

Finally my stash of Dove Dark Chocolate Promises: 2 little pieces and life seems better than it was 5 minutes ago. Not only do I have to keep these little sanity savers hidden, I have to be moved my stash every 24 hours or so because we have some truly dedicated chocolate loves in my home. I am willing share when I am raiding my stash. Two for me, one for every child that asks nicely.

Do you have a stash?

The Hundred Push Up Challenge Week 2 I Don’t Think I’m Supposed To Click

I did 40!!! pushups during my last set for week two. I did forget to do the max out test. My bad.

If you are ready to take the challange check out this site: One Hundred Push Ups

There are clicks that are very satisfying to hear. My knitting row counter thingy makes a rewarding little click as I change the count to reflect the rows I have completed. There are clicks in life that are uh oh moments. Anything that has to do with my car that involves a clicking noise causes my sphincter muscles to tighten and my credit card to melt.

There are clicking sounds I never under any circumstances want to hear. My former electrician son (now a poor but humble youth pastor) said in the course of his work he had encounter spiders so large you could hear their legs make clicking sounds as they scuttled (hopefully in the opposed direction, ugh).

I myself have never clicked before. For some reason, my right elbow has decided to keep count with my mind as I do the push ups. It is kinda unnerving.

I am pretty sure the human body is not supposed to click.

I Want A Tattoo

I want to get a tattoo. When I was turning forty I asked my husband what he thought of the idea, he thought tattoos were cheap and tacky.  I took up walking marathons and drinking coffee instead. I still want a tattoo.

  Tattoos are not the rebellious culture defying statement of individually they were 10 years ago. That’s because so many of us forty-somethings used tattoos to express our individually. According to Elizabeth Hayt’s New York Times article “Over-40 Rebels With a Cause: Tattoos”, 9 percent of women ages 40 to 64 years old have at least one tattoo.  I have several friends with one.  Nose piercing with tiny little studs seem to be the cutting edge of individuality among my friends and acquaintances.  A stud in my nose does not appeal to me.  I, rather, remain part of the non-nose stud crowd.  I still want a tattoo.

  My mother didn’t have a tattoo, and my 17 year old daughter doesn’t have a tattoo, nor my 12 year old one for that matter.  A tattoo marks a different path of aging than in my mom’s generation, and means I am one step ahead of my daughter's (for now).

 Fifty years should be marked by something different, a little adventure, something mildly annoying to the kids and shocking to any future grand kids.  Something more permanent than blue streaks in my hair, and less expensive than a red BMW convertible.  Fifty years shouldn’t have to be celebrated with something sensible.  Sensible is what my grandmother would have enjoyed.

  The problem of course is I asked my husband what he thought on the subject and he seemed to think, because I asked for his opinion, he had some say in my decision.  I am wondering how long the statute of limitations applies to that conversation.  I’m 48 now.  That one little conversation was eight years ago.  He was not so ungracious to come right out and tell me not to get a tattoo, he just let me know he didn’t like the idea.  If I check with him again and he is still of the same frame of mind, I still won’t get a tattoo.  Not because I can’t, but because his opinions do effect my personal  decisions.  That is part of what being married is.

 But what if I go ahead and just get one…..

 Maybe I will see how much that BMW convertible costs first… 

What about it girls, anyone want to share her tattoo story?