agingwrinklesandwondersdot.com

How many times have you said or heard, “I wish there were more than 24 hours in a day.” Our wish would come true if we lived on Venus which has a day that is 5,832 hours long! This is the longest “day” in our solar system. A year on Venus is actually shorter than a day on Venus. Google it. Imagine, 243 Earth days is one day on Venus! Surely this would be enough hours to get it all done. Could we/would we allow our lives to be so busy with all our activities that even 5,832 hours in a day would not be enough?

Downsizing, minimalism and tiny houses reflect a desire by some people to live more simply and not be controlled by “things”. If I did not own a car I would not have to shop for it, put gas in it, wash it, get the oil changed and work x number of hours to pay for it and insure it. Less time devoted to car care, but would I really have more time left for my interests? Maybe not if the bus system is poor and it takes me an hour by bus to get to my destination and I could drive there in 10 minutes. I could read on the bus or catch up on work and then I could spend less time at work, but no one ever spends “less” time at work! Since we really can’t “make” time we are left with 24 hours a day, take it or leave it.

I have 86,400 seconds (check my math) in a day, just like everyone else. Human animals must sleep, and I am not getting enough sleep at 6 hours a night. I can go to bed earlier or sleep in longer and since my alarm clocks are doggies with pea-sized bladders my only option seems to be go to bed earlier. It’s hard for me to understand that sleep isn’t doing “nothing”, it is rest for the body to replenish energy and brain cells. It seems the contest is who gets the least amount of sleep because they have so many “important” things to get done: i.e. I get by on 4 hours of sleep, I usually just get 3 hours and that is enough for me, I just close my eyes for a few minutes and doze and I am good for the day! I hear myself say “I’m too busy, I don’t have time to do a, b or c, and I’m so tired.” Of course I’m tired, I’m herding myself all day, sometimes with a cattle prod, to be in the same corral as the busy, big guys. Do I even want to be penned up with the busiest of the busy? What if I only do “a” and leave “b” and “c” undone?

“Sorry I haven’t _____, I’ve been so busy!” I don’t have time to hug my child, listen to my spouse, ride my bike or just do nothing. Imagine not having enough time to do nothing? It could be worse, we could live on Saturn which has a 10.7 hour day.

When something is almost impossible to find ( like that missing favorite earring) we say it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I know that feeling! The last few months I have been looking for my lost compass, and I’m starting to think I may even be looking in the wrong haystack. I need my compass to navigate! My intuition is on vacation in Mexico, and logical thinking is just too, too…logical. Which direction is my “true north”.

Change forced upon me or as a result of “non-decisions” has often brought me random chaos. Being spontaneous can be a good thing, but behaving like a runaway train is not. I’m lost in a forest of “shoulds” and the sun doesn’t reach the forest floor if I am people pleasing. So I need to know how to make a decision, but perhaps more importantly I need to get a clue about what my choices are. I don’t have an unlimited number of choices, but I also know I often limit my choices because of my “limiting” sense of unworthiness. Either or decisions could be broadened to include more than two choices. I could have chocolate, vanilla AND mint chip ice cream, but maybe not all on the same day. I could live in Colorado or Iowa or I could live in Colorado and Iowa, spending a part of the year in each state. I am considering the “and “ option seriously, but this does not mean that I believe I can have it all! What fun is it to be absolutely sure I am making the perfect decision? My experience is that there is no sure thing and life’s surprises may be way better than getting what I want.

Most of you probably remember the “Where’s Waldo” books. He was hidden on the page amid hundreds of other little figures. So maybe I can write my version of “Where’s Danita”. There’s Danita walking her dog Roscoe with her friend Larraine and her dog Hector. Theres Danita on the exercise recumbent bike at the Senior Center. There’s Danita at her favorite coffee shop writing, or reading or having marathon talks with her friends. There’s Danita at Elderhaus facilitating the caregiving group and gently promoting sharing from all members. So at this point in time I am choosing these activities and this is how I spend my day.

Whether I am aware of it or not, my life is just a series of choices and decisions. Over the years I have made many decisions about a million choices. Now I worry that some of those choices don’t fit anymore, and I need to make some changes and face more decisions. Meanwhile I lost Danita (myself) on the page of life. Because of years of therapy I am less concerned with “how” and “why” I got here or there. Starting from “now” the question is “where” do I want to be. I am talking about where I want to be geographically, emotionally and spiritually. So if you see me, point me in the direction of home. If you find my compass please return it, I am offering a reward .

Yesterday millions of people watched the solar eclipse and I was one of them. I was able to get eclipse glasses on Saturday which was a miracle in itself. Joining the eclipse fervor was a decision I made reluctantly. No big deal right? After all Colorado was at 95% coverage and not a total eclipse. After deciding it was indeed a big deal for me, I had to fit viewing the eclipse into my work schedule. As part of my job I go to Senior Housing Apartments monthly to do blood pressure checks so I decided to take a look before I went inside. It was 11 o’clock and the sun was about 1/3 covered. I was excited, this was real, not “fake news”. Apparently Mother Earth, our solar system and the Universe deal in Truth.

Edna was waiting for me, as usual. She knows the day I am coming and has only missed once in the year I have been doing the checks. Ironically she was in the hospital due to issues with high blood pressure! I make sure I do an accurate reading because I know how important it is to Edna’s health. I let her know that I had eclipse glasses and asked if she would like to take a look and her face lit up. So we went outside to see what the eclipse looked like, she was amazed that she could really see the sun being covered by the moon. It was better than T.V. she thought. As each of my regulars showed up for their blood pressure readings we took a trip outside and I shared my glasses so we both could see the eclipse. Soon we had quite the crowd! Another pair of glasses and a welders mask were shared by residents joining us, and the postman did the pinhole viewing. A home health care worker, the director of the building and the pop delivery guy borrowed glasses to take a look. The “old”ladies, me and assorted visitors got to witness a force much greater than us and there was a quiet reverence.

And then it was over and the group disbanded and it was back to normal. I’d like to think that I helped fellow humans to feel awe. There was a bit of doubt as everyone took their turn with the glasses , but all saw the eclipse as it happened and no one was disappointed. Most of us were pretty sure that we would not be alive to see the next eclipse, so we did not intend to miss this one. And we didn’t.

I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore…..
Oh yes I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain…
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong
I am invincible. Helen Reddy and Ray Burton, 1972

Powerful words, but soon these words were used as a putdown; as in a man deriding a woman who was trying to stand up for herself “Oh look, I am woman hear me roar, ha ha.” I believe that women have not made much progress since the bra burning and the non-ratification of the ERA in the mid 1970’s. “ You’ve come a long way baby…”—not so much. For example “baby”, can you imagine a man as “baby”? Babies need to be taken care of and are dependent, men are definitely not these things. Why was the woman who brought home the bacon always the one who fried it in a pan? And still a WOMAN? I don’t like bacon, unless it has chocolate on it!

Fast forward to 2017…. Half of Congress are women and half of all CEOs are women, right? Nope! Recently, 13 Senators sat in a room to hammer out a thrice failed “better” health plan and not one was a female, now that’s representation! No health care without representation, we could all have a huge tea party in Congress.

I had coffee with a friend today, we were talking about health issues during her pregnancy and she told me she had an incompetent cervix. I said “Whaaaat? Incompetent cervix?” Without minimizing the seriousness of this condition, we had a big laugh at the thought of a man—sometime, somewhere, labeling a woman’s cervix as incompetent! Do men have incompetent body parts? Have you heard of an incompetent prostrate, or incompetent testicles?

Paul Ehrlich, the author of The Population Bomb” and a researcher on climate change and sustainability at Stanford, came to CSU several years ago and was asked how to save our imperiled planet. His response surprised me and the audience, he said we need to give the women of the world the same advantages as men and women will save the planet.

I am growing my hair out, maybe to shoulder length. I started with hair that was not much more than an inch long. I bet most men out there are thinking big deal! Just let it grow and don’t cut it and there you are…long hair. This is a very naive view which confirms that men just do not understand women. If they did understand they would know about the dreaded “in-between” stage where headbands and barrettes are the last resort to save a “Just chop it all off!” moment at the hairstylist. And headbands and barrettes are so not for the “mature” woman. My hair is “in-between” and I am struggling to survive this awkward stage to get tomy long flowing mane of thin gray hair. Doesn’t sound like much… but for the first time in my girlie life I want that ponytail!

Women shave, wax, pluck, laser, and use chemicals to remove the hair on our bodies. The hair on our heads is colored, bleached, curled or straightened with an iron, permed, braided, woven with extensions and complained about. We actually have “bad hair” days! Shorthand for my hair looks like shit and I feel like shit. Our roots are showing and we’re not talking about trees. After going very short I felt almost naked, I knew people were thinking “My god, what has she done?” Reality check: I am just a blip on the radar which disappears quickly, so it is likely they quickly moved on to a Trump tweet and the compulsion to mess up the Donald’s hair.

Ironically, in June I went to see the musical “Hair” at Midtown Arts Center. “There ain’t no words for the beauty, the splendor, the wonder Of my… Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair.” There’s the Afro, the Mullett the Bob, the Pixie, the Ponytail, the Pigtail, the Updo and then let your hair down and get …. Why on earth is there so much attention paid to the hair(s) on our heads? The perfect haircut and style will not give me the power that Samson had before he got the “bad “ haircut and lost his strength. Or will it? And Rapunzel let down her hair to let her prince come into the tower, so long hair will get me my prince…

So back to my hair which is growing as we speak. I will get through this awkward, in-between stage with the help of my best friend who has sworn to talk me out of any weak “chop it all off” moments! In the meantime I have my life to live, which is the only “big hairy deal” that needs my full attention.

Growing old gracefully sounds so idyllic. I see a beautiful, silver-haired woman riding on a bike trail with an equally handsome silver- haired George Clooney look-a-like. Of course they both look like they are about 40! Has anyone ever seen this couple? I don’t think so! I am not sure that graceful and growing old should be in the same sentence. And I think the word “young” should be changed to “non-old”, it puts a whole different perspective on things.

Spider veins that are like rivers with hundreds of tributaries, wrinkles like a Sharpei, bat wings and jello butt—that is what I see in the mirror every morning, if I remember to put on my glasses. If George Clooney ever shows up I am hallucinating. The truth hurts. When the reality of aging and the fantasy of aging are on opposite rims of the Grand Canyon we all know it is really, really far down to the canyon floor. Would you rather look young and feel old, or look old and feel young? I am not sure how I would answer this question, but I am pretty sure the question is one of those conundrums that may never be solved. I prefer simple yes or no choices. Chocolate or Caramel Swirl ice cream? Yes, both please!

Making my way through a mine field, very slowly and carefully I am learning who I am with the miles adding up. I hear myself saying “I’m not as young as I used to be” and questioning my choices. Should I be using a ladder to change a lightbulb or do I really want to keep weeding and mowing? I can make coffee, a necessity and a very safe activity, but too much cleaning, dusting and re-arranging gives me a rash. I have almost no patience for bullshit and more patience with my flawed self on good days. This is good because I seem to move a little slower and my thinking is a bit slower too. My boundless energy from childhood now has boundaries; I try to use my energy for joyful activities. Falling asleep at a stoplight is not a joyful activity.

“I used to be_____.” fill in the blank. Whoever I used to be is so yesterday, who I am now is today. Ram Dass said Be. Here. Now. I realize it is not important for me to know how I got here and where I am going to be comfortable in my own skin, no matter how wrinkled it is. How can the Past and the Future fit in a moment that is full of Now?

It has been brought to my attention by more than a few people, I am very passionate, consumed with righting a wrong, determined to rescue the “shit upon” (people or animals) and a crusader for justice. I have also been told that I am very opinionated, judgmental (I’m right, you’re wrong), and let’s not forget, quite impatient. The truth I think, is I am all of these.

It seems obvious that being opinionated, judgmental and impatient are not good qualities, but what gets me in the most trouble and is messy, is my lack of self-awareness of my behaviors and attitudes. Where is the line between opinionated and passionate, or can I be opinionated and passionate at the same time? I get things done when I am passionate and/or opinionated, but sometimes I pay a cost for my consuming passion to right a wrong; I may alienate the rest of the human race or forget to care for myself. The problem must be solved before I can rest!

Determination is usually a good quality, and my determination to get help for a wounded animal, or get help for a troubled person serves me well. There is one pelican alive today because I wouldn’t give up until he was in the hands of wildlife rescue who could cut the fishing line wrapped around his leg. A neighbor who is mentally ill and was living in filth got help because I called Adult Protective Services, my HOA and the City Council.

I am a problem solver, it’s part of my personality . There is, of course, the occasional attempt to fix a person who declines my “help”. I am surprised others don’t always agree with me! Finding resources and circling the wagons is what I do best and I don’t take no for an answer. I can negotiate, refuse to budge or simply demand my way. Please remind me as gently as you can that life is not an obstacle course, I am not always right, and you will ask for help if you need it.

Festina, Iowa isn’t even an official town, it’s an unincorporated area without a mayor or City Council to govern it. The unofficial mayor is my brother so he is the de facto Grand Marshall of what my niece refers to as the “epic” Fourth of July Parade. What began as a procession of kids pulling wagons down Main Street has grown into a bona fire parade. This year I was fortunate to be able to attend the parade because I was home to Iowa for a wedding. Festina is very tiny so the parade loop is not long, but the sidelines were filled with cheering bystanders and I was one of them.

Tractors were the vehicle of choice for many of the parade entries, there were no flower covered floats or convertibles carrying parade royalty. The colors were John Deere green, orange Allis-Chalmers and red Farmalls. These are the work horses of the Iowa farm and tractor loyalties are usually carried down from generation to generation. My father had John Deere tractors and my brothers have John Deere tractors. There were several restored vintage tractors in the parade and one very loud 1971 shiny orange Chevy Nova driven by my nephew who loved to rev the engine. Candy was thrown along the parade route and kids
scooped it up. My favorite were the cheese sticks thrown by a local dairy entry.

What surprised me the most was I really loved the parade! I was born and raised on a farm, but the city has been my home for almost 40 years. As I watched the parade and waved at each entry I realized the farm and rural Iowa still pull at my heart. I like the basic colors of the tractors, there is no Passion Fruit or Sky Blue tractor. I like the red barns set in green rolling fields and farmhouses surrounded by perfect green lawns, so big they need to be mowed with a lawn tractor. As I walked around a pond, I laughed out loud as many frogs hopped off the shore and ker-plunked into the water. If the algae was thick enough they could hop on water! On the farm, nature is so immediate, right there for the experiencing. Barefoot on hot concrete is no comparison to barefoot on the farm.

But of course it’s the people of Iowa who put the love in Iowa. Solid, authentic and compassionate people who love a good laugh, Iowans are able to cut through the cow, pig and sheep shit and get to the point. Talking about the weather is more that just small talk, the Weather with a capital “W” is a primary concern for the farmer. Sharing family stories while sitting on the porch with morning coffee or watching lightning bugs and 4th of July Fireworks on a clear Iowa night is pretty close to heaven.

With love to my family in Iowa, July 8, 2017.

Living in the city makes it difficult to see and feel an incoming thunderstorm. The dark clouds are visible but distance is hard to measure and the horizon is hazy. One of my favorite memories from childhood was sitting on the front porch steps and watching a thunderstorm come in. With my eye on the horizon I watched the storm clouds form. There was rumbling and changing cloud colors. It was striking to see the dark clouds on the horizon and the beautiful rich green of the Iowa countryside in one frame. It was beauty with an edge of danger.

The air was intense and immediate. I was small and just a spectator. There was nothing I needed to do but sit and watch. Anticipation was part of the fascination but I was patient. I wasn’t waiting for Santa Claus. It seemed there was so much to be seen in slow motion. Just before the rain began to fall, there was a change in the air like a sharp intake of breath. Would it be a bad storm? Bad was the tornado in the Wizard of Oz. All I needed to do was run inside the house and I would be safe. I knew what corner of the basement to run to in case of tornado! I had a plan, but usually I was on the porch when the rain and wind came. If Mom didn’t insist I come in I stayed on the porch until I was getting wet from the rain blowing onto the porch.

Grown up concerns about damage to crops and property were not on my radar. I never worried that hail might damage the crops or fields would be flooded. Just a few years ago I was looking out my patio door and watching the hail pummel my 2 tomato plants. I was fascinated by the hail but worried that my plants would be destroyed. Awe and worry in the same moment. I remember digging the hail stones out of the bed and freezing my fingers. 90 degrees and ice is falling from the sky. The plants survived and even thrived to produce a bumper crop of tomatoes. The farmers in the area were not as fortunate and crops looked like they had been shredded and never came back.

When I go to my AlAnon meetings I am reminded I am powerless over alcohol, people, places and things and I remember the thunderstorms in Iowa. I was powerless over the storms and I accepted that powerlessness easily. I am a grown up and acceptance does not come easily these days. I see and feel my body getting battered by age and I often want to fight the changes the years bring. What about watching and feeling the changes with curiosity and awe like I watched the storms come in? After the storm and the rain, the air was so clean and full of hope.

Annie Lamont is my hero. She is fearless, funny and vulnerable. It’s more than she is a good writer, or writes well, she is…. the teacher, the healer, a mother and a best friend. If I could write and live half as well as she does I would be successful beyond my wildest dreams.

For now I will be humble and learn from the words I write. I will ask good questions, participate in the discussion, and remember that I am the student not the teacher. I write to define myself. I really do pull words out of thin air and put them on the page, hoping I can put them in the right order. Initially I may write nonsense, but I keep going and wrestle with the sentences. Sometimes it looks like All-Star wrestling —lots of hype but no substance. When I least expect it my words begin to dance, pirouetting across the page…got a little carried away …clogging or crawling, not pirouetting. Whatever the style of dance, my words got rythym..

What’s the word I am looking for? What do they call that? Words are labels, they name people, places and things i.e. table and chair,Tom, Dick and Harry, Paris and Iowa. We identify these words as nouns. Then of course we have verbs, the “doing” or action words: walking, thinking, laughing, yelling, etc. Adjectives describe nouns: i.e.red table and chair; Tom,Dick and Harry are gay; beautiful Paris, green Iowa, etc…. Those of you who loved to diagram sentences know that we still need adverbs to express “how” : running quickly, walking slowly, swearing loudly, etc…. So isn’t it a miracle that words can create sentences, sentences become paragraphs, paragraphs fill a page and pages can be put together to make a book? I appreciate this miracle even though I have never gotten past the paragraphs on the page level.

We communicate with words, but the problem is that words can have emotional meaning too. Words are very powerful. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” is an alternative fact: definition, a lie. Labels are very dangerous when negative adjectives are associated; cheap Jews, stupid blacks, sinful gays etc…. Personal relationships are full of land mines that can be detonated with angry, judgmental words. Loving and kind words can disarm some of the land mines, and build connections.

Mean what you say, and say what you mean. Ronald Dahl said, “Don’t gobblegunk around with words.” Good advice.