Tag: chocolate

Filling the Gaps in My Giddyup

The other day at Maj Jong, yes I said Maj Jong, a friend walked in to play. Another looked at me and said,” look at her feet.” I looked down and she was wearing two different shoes.

They were similar, but one was a darker shade and different texture.

I laughed out loud. Not to make fun of my friend, but from sheer relief knowing I wasn’t the only one.

Lately I’ve been thinking, well, that thinking is actually becoming a luxury. I find myself needing to focus on one thing to get it done right when I used to do at least three things at a time with little effort.

Those days are sadly gone. And I’m not referring to the times I walk into a room and forget why.

When leaving physical therapy the other day, a thought occurred to me…my body has now learned a new talent. Compensation. That’s right, even at my age I am still learning.

When I tore my rotator cuff the doctor strongly suggested I have surgery. I suggested just as strongly that I try PT first. I decided it was worth trying the least painful method before subjecting myself to an invasive procedure. So I took myself to PT determined to fix a broken and badly torn up shoulder.

My doctor was skeptical and assumed I’d be back and sign up for the procedure shortly. He was wrong. Never underestimate the cowardly.

What I noticed after beginning the work of forcing my muscles to do the work of the torn pieces of my shoulder, was that they were not exactly thrilled by the prospect.

But I wasn’t any more thrilled at the thought of having surgery so I persisted.

After a while they gave in. Oh sure the tear is still there, but my other muscles have compensated and I can use my arm.

I suppose that at a certain age it becomes all for one and one for all where our bodies and minds are concerned.

We become good at compensating for the parts that don’t work very well any longer, and we fall into patterns that will allow us to keep trudging along.

Much like an old car that needs repairs constantly to keep running.

And running is something my body wants no part of, compensation or not.

If it’s true that necessity is the mother of invention, our bodies are a real mother.

They somehow find a way to offset the parts of us that have slowed down. Or others that refuse to work at their previous at all some days.

Sometimes without even being aware it’s happening. Finding a way to continue with the activities we once took for granted can suddenly become a challenge. Yet there is no doubt we must battle to do so.

Much like hearing our whole lives that if one loses a sense, the other four become more acute.

It should be no surprise to us that our brain finds a way to continue using our bodies in the way to which we have become accustomed.  

The brain is the ultimate computer, yet like all electronics it becomes obsolete as new updates are installed.

My Iphone and computer stopped communicating so one had to go.

However, unlike manmade technology the brain has unlimited new circuits and programs one can install. It is a great manager and an untapped resource.

They say we only use a small part of our brain capacity. If so, our bodies should be able to adapt and form new wiring as needed.

The experts say AI will help us to achieve this. Perhaps, but in the interim we are on our own. Many say learning new things like a language opens new pathways in the brain. Pretty much I’ve found it just adds more stuff in there to forget.

Adapting and compensating for the things that don’t work as well as they once did is on us.

I guess we can help it along by being open to new ways of thinking, moving and caring for our bodies.

I suppose there are many ways to continue at a healthy pace. At least doctors and researchers say so.  Little things we do each day can either help us slow down aging or speed it up.

Despite the pep talks, we all seem to age differently. I have friends who play pickleball while I opt for retail cardio to exercise.

Some find themselves slowed down considerably mentally and physically, while others move about as though no time passed at all.

Is it luck? Is it genes? Or is it a result of past choices? Beats the hell out of me. Perhaps in the end it’s a combo of all of those.

Food, exercise, using our brain, staying in motion, yata yata yata is all supposed to play a part. I haven’t the nerve to tell my body parts that chocolate is on the endangered list. No way I’m going there.

Whatever the answer it’s a simple fact we all could do better in some ways. And should we always be grateful to still be here and schlepping along, peak performance or not? For sure. We definitely should. Life can be enjoyable in new ways and surprises we never expected, so moving forward optimistically is always the way to go.  

Whatever our limitations, hopefully ending up with matching shoes each morning should at least be within our reach. Boy these walking shoes all look alike now where is the mate to this…?

We Need an Ouchy Manual at a Certain Age

So someone forgot to pass out the instruction manual for people over sixty-five. Sure, they send you the Medicare card and your Social Security info. But we need instructions on how to find out why a new ache or pain shows up every morning without warning? Most times, you have no idea how or why or how it got there; so where’s the easy-to-read chart to navigate this golden-years crapola?

It’s no longer possible to just hop up out of bed in the morning. Now it’s a process.

First you have to ask your body’s permission to get out of bed. If you get the all clear then make sure that movement doesn’t equal pain.

Or at least a minimum of pain anyway.

When you ascertain you can actually lift your tush off the bed, that first step in the morning tells the tale.

If someone mouths an OUCH, and it’s you, that means you might spend the better part of the morning figuring out what you did to piss your body off.

Was it how you slept on your arm? The shoes you wore last night for that party?

Did you sleep in a crazy position? Has the ouch fairy left you a quarter under your pillow, plugged in the heating pad?

You may be asking why it is important to track down the cause of the pain and not just inhale the Motrin and shut up, but I’m an optimist.

I still believe if I can find the cause I can avoid these little skirmishes with my body.

Stop laughing, I can hear you.

Yes of course, pain is a part of life at a certain age that we’ve come to expect. At least many have. I know there are the lucky ones who have managed to hang onto youth. Don’t you just hate those guys?

There is an ouch factor inherent in our existence that now embeds itself into our lifestyle.

But there is no manual to avoid the aches and pains. Despite inhaling kale, force feeding oneself handfuls of vitamins each day and promising to hit the gym, we wind up in the garage for repairs like a classic Corvette. Love my new bionic knee.

Oh, sure there are urban myths about people who actually awaken in the morning without discomfort or pain. I’ve heard tell, and I’ve dreamed one day it might be me. But alas, these tales are as credible as the fodder spewing from a politician’s mouth.

On occasion a friend will remark about someone they know who can run a marathon, walk ten miles or feel as spry as when they were fifty. Of course, we both laugh at the thought and discuss how hard it is to climb the stairs now. Then we drink a toast to the guy who invented escalators.

My response to these fables is always, show me the proof and I’ll believe you. I do believe we grow more skeptical as we age.

After seventy my week consists of perhaps one doctor appointment, PT session, Maj game, ordering groceries online and lunch with a friend. This creates the illusion life in the laugh laugh golden years is business as usual. And we all know the usual was shopping, working, lunch, rush home to make dinner and get the kids ready for bed. Then get up the next day and do it all again.

It is to laugh. I once lived that life. However, by the way my body reacts now when I simply try to raise myself off a chair and it takes five minutes to straighten up, I have a hard time believing that person ever existed.

Yet what is one to do? Maj Jong has become a bit louder now because no one can hear the tiles called anymore. Food is an adversary instead of a welcome friend. And my body is adamant it needs a day off now and then to recharge its batteries.

Plus, getting up in the morning is the equivalent of playing Name That Tune at the doctor’s office.

I can name that pain in two ouches. I can name it in one… okay, so name it.

The doctor asks where is the pain?

“I’m not sure,” I say. “It could be below the waist, but I do feel it above the waist also. And it travels to both sides and down my leg.”

Of course he asks, “Did you do anything different yesterday? Lift something heavy perhaps?”

“Sure. I went to the gym and benched three hundred pounds. Look at me Doc. Isn’t it enough I lift my ass out of bed in the morning?”

“Are you eating right?”

After I stop laughing, I assure him I’m eating far better than I once did, although through no choice of my own. Lord, I miss chocolate.

He asks if there is anywhere it doesn’t hurt?

I think a minute before answering because it’s important to get this right. “I’m not sure because I kind of feel ouchy all over.”

“Ouchy all over,” he responds.

I imagine that’s a phrase that makes it super easy for a doctor to diagnose.  I can see the commercial on TV now. For that ouchy all over feeling take two time-release tablets and get through a day like you were fifty again.

Side effects may include, nausea, heartburn, backaches, heart failure and a bit of dizziness upon awakening.  Certain cases have been reported of hip breakage and balance issues. Lymphoma may occur on rare occasions. If any of these symptoms occur call your doctor or go to the hospital immediately.

Now I’m no medical genius, but I think I’ll take my chances without these miracle pills. Ouchy is looking good after hearing all those side effects. Are these drug companies trying to heal you or scare you to death?

We all accept that most days you’re never going to feel the way you did when you were forty, but sixty is looking good here.

So I’ve decided to make friends with the ouchies that greet me upon awakening.  I think if you get out of bed with only one familiar ache, it’s a good day.

Let’s face it, our bodies have slowed down a bit, the least we can do is cut them some slack. Do I feel the same as I did twenty years ago? Did I expect to? No and no. But one must simply tell oneself we are lucky to be here aches and all and get on with it.  

But I still think a manual would be helpful.

How Chocolate Will Keep You From Aging Revealed

Sorry, that headline is a lie. Chocolate won’t keep you young, but it will keep you happy. Since the word old is often used in a negative sense, implying ancient, outdated and decrepit, we all need some happy.  

I’m starting to think someone should add my name to that definition list.

It’s just of late I’ve started to really feel my age.

True, there is the possibility that I’ve previously used rationalizations like I didn’t sleep enough last night or the weather is making me so tired etc. etc. But I have come to accept that excuses simply don’t cut the mustard. And by the way what does that expression mean anyway? I can’t imagine how old and stale someone’s mustard must have been to need to cut it before serving. But I digress, also probably a part of getting old.

Thankfully I believe my mind is still a teenager, but my body seems to be channeling Methuselah in his later years.

So what can anyone do to postpone old age?

Is there any way to regain strength and vitality?

If, as some claim food plays a part in the aging process, is it time to forego the snacks I’ve eaten and enjoyed my entire life?

I shall begin with chocolate. If I give up sugar will I feel younger, or will it just seem like the days are longer without that Cadbury egg?

Does diet really change the dynamic of aging? I have no idea so I checked into it and I will save you the trouble of having to google all that crap.

According to Cleveland Clinic these are some of the side effects of sugar; weight gain, acne breakouts, reaching for multiple snacks, mood swings and irritability, lack of energy, craving more sugar and tossing and turning and tossing at night.

After checking out the list I have to say that at my age acne is not enough to make me consider giving up Godiva. If you want me to give up mother’s milk you have to do better than that.

Okay, so I continued and it says reaching for multiple snacks. But it doesn’t say that the snacks you are reaching for are necessarily Cheetos. What if you’re reaching for an apple? So that would be a good thing, right?

Weight gain? Oh Boo Hoo. I’ll never wear a bikini again? That possibility ended when I discovered that there wasn’t a strap strong enough to hold up my breasts.

Besides I haven’t worn a bikini since 1971.

Okay, I’m still waiting for that magic bullet that will scare me off the sacred cocoa bean.

Hmmm, mood swings and irritability.

I thought that occurs because I can’t remember why I walk into the bedroom to find something and can no longer remember what it is. Or because it now takes ten minutes to straighten up after sitting in a chair.

Sure there is irritability when I look into the mirror and see my mother’s wrinkled face staring back at me. Who the heck wouldn’t be irritable, so stop blaming it on chocolate.

It also says that if you consume sugar, you crave even more. Let’s see. Allow me to do the math. You have a package of Oreos with three sleeves of cookies and you eat one whole sleeve. What are the odds you will wake up the next day and want another sleeve?

I’d bet my last farthing it’s one million to one I’m downing that other sleeve for breakfast with a cold glass of milk as a healthy side.

And now we get to the big one. Loss of energy. Funny I always thought sugar gave you energy. Yes, I know the comedown from a sugar high can be pretty brutal. Still  after I’ve come down it’s time for my afternoon nap, so it works out great. At least I had some yummy chocolate while I was awake.

So far I’m not convinced food is the answer and we can blame sugar for all those things.

According to one expert, and aren’t they all, genetic factors and lifestyle choices, such as smoking, diet and alcohol consumption, can also impact aging. However, the expert said bad sleep is the biggest impetus to faster aging.

Okay I promise I’ll be diligent about sneaking in a nap every day. When I think how I fought against sleep as a kid I laugh. Now I’m in my jammies and ready for beddy bye as soon as I come back from the early bird special.

Some say exercise is the magic bullet. Tell that to my aching hip when I try to simply stand in the kitchen and cut up a pineapple.

And I have to say if one more expert says it’s all about fiber, I will pour a box of Fiber One down his throat with a quart of almond milk. Let’s see how he likes spending all his remaining days in the bathroom?

It is also written on the all-knowing google that you have certain aging spurts at different times in your life. Apparently, the biological aging process isn’t steady and accelerates periodically, and wait for it—the greatest bursts come, on average at 34, 60 and 78.

Yep, I definitely noticed I was feeling much older at 34 than at 33. It’s coming back to me now how much harder it was to chase around two children at 34. At sixty I don’t remember much about how I felt except damn depressed about turning sixty.

Facing 78 soon I’m thinking maybe there is something to that age spurt thing because I’m noticing a bit more resistance on my body’s part. Like when I say, “okay let’s go to the mall, walk around and shop,” my body hides the car keys.  So maybe there’s some truth to that one.

Despite just the experts’ opinions there is the fact my friends are saying they are feeling a bit older these days. They claim their stamina is now successfully hiding somewhere in Greenland or Australia, but I think I’ve solved the aging conundrum.

Since I do admit to a slight sense of foreboding a week or two before my birthdays akin to what the Japanese must have felt as the atom bomb started dropping, perhaps we are overlooking the obvious.

The real culprit here is depression; that’s what ages us.

And no, I don’t want to hear all that malarky about you should be so happy just to be getting older.

That’s like saying, “Aren’t crow’s feet great? They really add a new dimension to your face.”

I’m sure we’re all grateful to be getting older and actually I’m not certain I’d have the strength to do this whole exhausting ride over again. Yet there is a sadness about watching the years pass.

And as optimistic as we’d like to be, birthdays are bittersweet.

We all wish we had the ability to run after our grandchildren like we did our kids.

That our metabolism hadn’t passed away ten years ago, and our feet actually could touch the ground without pain again. And the big one, that the loved ones we’ve lost could still be with us.

But at the end of the day, we must play the hand we’re dealt. I guess the truth is some of us age better than others. Is it luck, lifestyle or genetics and does it matter?

Still, it’s true old age isn’t for sissies and we must roll with the punches.

The only difficulty with that solution is how long it takes to get up after all that rolling.

But the good news is: You will never be younger than you are today. So just open a box of Godiva and enjoy the ride. What the hell, you’ve already paid for your ticket.

How Do We Get Our Happy Back?

Okay so today I was talking to my friend Ellyn and of course the conversation morphed into “What the hell is going on with this world?”  It’s impossible to escape the absurdity looming around us like a giant cyclone of insanity.

Yet, as in any time of upheaval, sometimes it’s important to try and take some good from the situation, no matter how dire it all seems.

We agreed there was one positive upshot and it’s important to leap on and embrace it fully. The need to refocus on the little things has become imperative.

In these times of chaos when so many feel the world is imploding it’s impossible to feel in control of our own lives.

So what can someone do to recover some of the peace we so desperately need. In other words, how do we get our happy back?

How do we feel positive again and remain focused on optimism and hope? How do we ensure our little corner of the world is still ours and ours alone to do with as we please?

Can we find joy in the midst of chaos? Is there a way to take back our little corner of the world even for just a moment or two?  

It ain’t easy. When our world is spinning it’s awfully hard not to get dizzy. To prevent ourselves from falling (which is difficult on any day, anyway) and restore our sanity.

Human beings need a safe haven in any storm. We aren’t designed to live in constant turmoil with our minds constantly running wild and no peaceful spot in which to recline, catch our breath and feel safe.

I believe that’s why there are flowers, gardens, meadows with singing birds, mountain tops and huge fluffy clouds drifting through an azure sky.

Our eyes need to see and hear peace to feel it within ourselves.

So what can we do to escape into our happy place?

I imagine we must first accept the fact that happy weeks, days or months are pretty much almost impossible to achieve. Once we understand that, we should be able to embrace and enjoy a smaller portion of joy time.

It may be hours or even minutes in our happy place. Yet if we understand time there is short, we will absorb more joy from each moment.

Finding peace is much easier because we all know with few exceptions what brings us joy. This is a question we needn’t ask because we have already been there.

Time with our grandchildren or family members.

A fun dinner with friends, old or new.

Perhaps a tour of a local museum we’ve put off too long or an art gallery in a beautiful spot.

Have you watched a favorite movie that made you laugh so hard you cried?

Or a comedian who left you with spasms of laughter? Most comics have their acts up on the Internet now. Instagram Reels seems to be overflowing with hysterical moments of laughter by some very funny comics. And please let’s not forget the adorable antics of kittens and puppies.

One of my happy places is escaping into a good book. It doesn’t matter what genre. A great mystery can keep you attentive indefinitely.

Sometimes when we feel that lack of control it’s good to call a friend. One who is feeling or has felt the same way. After venting it’s important to end the conversation on the positives and be left in a better place than before you spoke.

Okay, I’ll go there. Yes, a favorite food. I said it. This diet obsessed nut is one of many, many foodies that still find some solace in that perfect bite.

It doesn’t matter what the food is because even a good diet meal can taste great. I don’t think anyone is surprised to hear that for me the happiest place on earth isn’t Disneyland, but anywhere I’m biting into a piece of chocolate.

If the pandemic taught us anything, it’s that we must be content to find our own place to thrive in chaos. Most did, but many succumbed to the awfulness and lack of control.

Yet there were new hobbies, new interests, new accomplishments during that period that served to lead us through the darkness to the other side. Many discovered talents long hidden but now much enjoyed.

I don’t have any answers for the big questions confronting us today. Sadly, it seems leaders don’t either and that in itself is a reason to be afraid. We are all watching frightful events that once seemed unfathomable and so many are depressed about the lack of control and chaos.

Humans must be safe to feel safe and now it seems almost impossible to maneuver the craziness thrown at us each day.

Where can we hide, how do we duck quickly with arthritis filled knees, what can we do to make things better?

Only do what we can to help ourselves and our loved ones find their happy place.

I wish I were a Yogi and could meditate myself onto a higher plane, but right now I’m quite earthbound.

Perhaps it’s time for a little transcendental meditation, but I must ultimately return to this planet and the eye of the hurricane. And of course if all else fails retreat into denial.

For me it’s been a challenge to ignore the craziness and find ways to find that inner peace. However maybe in some ways it’s easier because now it’s so necessary we feel more compelled to seek it out.

At least we can all escape to our little moments of joy and find some calm and happiness there.

I wish that for you all until sanity is hopefully restored onto the world.

Cleaning Experts Can Kiss My Glass

Cleaning Experts Can Kiss My Glass

So, the latest thing on Instagram and Reels is the abundance of cleaning experts or as they are called now, influencers.

There must be thousands of them talking about how to empty your refrigerator or make room under the sink for the millions of products you need.

Here’s one I love; take the stuff off the shelves of your refrigerator door that are spoiled or you aren’t using anymore.

Let’s examine this piece of sage advice.

I’ll try to simplfy this confusing element of cleaning expertise. On the refrigerator door there are shelves with bunches of bottles, cans and packs of food stuff. The expert never said the products were nonfood. In other words, beauty products, cold creams or dead raccoons.

So if one opens a jar of mustard and the top looks like a green fur coat, I’m guessing she’s advising you to throw it out.

Or if there is a jar of pickle relish from 1999 one might want to reexamine placing it back on a shelf. Wow I never would have thought of that. Genius. Has someone nominated this chick for the Nobel Prize yet?

One cleaning influencer had 291,546 likes showing her cleaning the shower with a brush.

Well slap my forehead and call me stupid. I always thought you were supposed to lick the dirt off the floor. Thank goodness I saw this and know I need a brush. I bet my shower will be much cleaner now.

How stupid are people? I can’t believe 291,546 people bothered to like this reel. I’m excited if 500 people read my blog.

Maybe I’m doing this all wrong. I should be including the obvious in every one of my blogs. Let’s see.

My advice for this post is when it’s twenty degrees below zero outside you should definitely wear a coat.

I’ll bet my readership triples by just offering genius tidbits like that one.

Or can you imagine how many people would read my blog if I actually wrote, if your hair is so dirty you can’t get a brush through, it’s time to wash it and probably shampoo twice.

I’d probably break the Internet with that piece of wisdom.

One expert had 857,302 likes on her post about using racks to dry clothes in the laundry room.

Well, that changed my life. I thought you just throw everything on the floor helter skelter and wait for it to dry. Wow, what a revelation.

I do have to admit I have seen some products on these posts I wasn’t aware existed, but I’m too lazy to buy them anyway so no matter. Here’s a great hint. Stop cluttering your house with cleaning crap you’ll eventually wind up throwing away.

I mean why don’t these influencers or experts or whatever they are offer important cleaning advice?

Like if if there’s so much mold on your tomatoes they’ve turned back to green, maybe you should toss them. 

Or after you get out of the shower and the floor is wet, step on a towel and move it across the floor carefully with one foot, Viola clean!

Or if you run out of room in the pantry throw away the stuff from ten years ago. I find that’s the best way to make more room.

Or if there are two packages of Oreos in the microwave, which I use for storage, I usually just finish shoveling in the one with the least cookies. Or if you don’t want to eat them, and of course that boggles the mind since I can’t imagine not wanting an Oreo, combine them into one bag.  Genius stuff, right?

Also, if you have Ready Whip cans on the refrigerator door and you’re not having pumpkin pie, just squirt it directly into your mouth and then throw away the can. There you go! More shelf room just like that. No muss, no fuss and yummy to boot.

Damn, I bet I’d get millions of likes on my cleaning and food tips.

Here’s one of my favorites: eat standing up and all the calories will drop right to your feet.

Did I not tell you I’m a natural. Forget the blog, I’m going to start giving out advice and I’ll become the number one influencer.

If a sponge has stuff crawling on it perhaps it’s time to replace it for a clean one. Sage advice indeed is it not?

Or to keep your floors clean after you walk through a construction site and your boots are caked with mud, take them off outside the house.

When I walk into someone’s home and everything is in perfect order, I get an attack of PTSD. This is because my mother wrapped her white kitchen cupboards in Saran Wrap every week to keep them clean.

Once a date came over, walked into the kitchen and asked, “Wow, did you just move in, the cupboards are still wrapped?”
“No,” I said. “My mother likes to keep them from getting dirty.”

Needless to say, I never saw him again.

So forgive me if a house that looks like no one lives there scares me a bit.

It seems to me that as far as all cleaning influencers are concerned baking soda, vinegar and some lemon juice can cure all life’s ills. silly me I thought it was chocolate.

I’ll leave you with one great piece of advice I learned the hard way. If your refrigerator smells like a cow died, your milk is probably spoiled.

So as all the influencers say, likes are appreciated and more great tips to come.

I Saw Goody Proctor Consorting With a Tomato Worm

I saw Goody Proctor Consorting with a Tomato Worm

So I believe by now we can all agree the world in which we are living is definitely unrelated to the world in which we were born. That coocoo for cocoa puffs no longer solely applies to breakfast cereal.

But I digress.

I have no idea what life was like in colonial times in America.

I know they ate turkey on Thanksgiving so I imagine they left the table stuffed and sick like the rest of us. I guess some things never change.

I know there were no modern conveniences and women had to wash clothes in the creek and in tubs and hang it all on the line. I get exhausted just unloading the dryer.

I know there were no microwaves, computers or commercials about Cadbury eggs, and I imagine most  women worked off their calorie intake just doing their “chores.”

So I’m guessing spinning classes weren’t a necessity.

I know they gossiped like crazy, “I saw Goody Proctor consorting with the devil.” As I said, some things never change.

When we’re born we grow up with the new-fangled notions and inventions already there.

If something new comes down the pike we kind of take it in stride, Oh look, a color television!

Yet, as I get older I’m finding the rapid pace of today’s world is not often easy to navigate.

Okay, I’m down with computers, not so much with this AI stuff. I’m not sure I’ll ever wrap my head around having something or someone out there that can make me say or do whatever I want without me even knowing about it. I guess we have no choice.

So it’s adapt or go the way of the dinosaurs. I’m doing my best to adapt cause whichever way the dinosaurs went I want to go the opposite.

Trying to adapt I’m remembering things that I never really was okay with throughout my life, yet I still managed to get through and make it to wrinkle city despite the things I disliked.

Of course I’m not alone in having to navigate a sea of stuff we hate and would rather not know was there.

Each person has their own pet peeves.

I have no idea why they are called pet when a pet is actually something we embrace, so I guess that’s really an oxymoron.

In the spirit of total transparency, I don’t care how old I get I will never understand tomato worms.

UGH! Not only are they ugly and disgusting, I still can’t figure out where the hell they come from.

Okay I’ve asked and people tell me they are in the soil. Oh are they?

I can understand why they might be in the soil in one’s backyard garden. After all they can travel from house to house showing their ugly faces. That is reasonable to me.

However, and here’s the big question…if one plants a rooftop garden in a high rise on Fifth Avenue in New York, how the hell do tomato worms show up there?

Do they take the elevator or do they fly in on tomato worm drones? Oops, next morning there’s suddenly these hideous creatures in your plants. Do they jump onto the cuff of your pants and hide out until you hit the roof again.

I mean what’s up with these things? I guess that’s why they freak me out so much. I feel like they fly around in special red tomato worm UFOs looking for rooftop gardens to land on.

Yes I know I need help, but let’s face it, we all have things which we find it difficult to accept and stomach.

Yet, we are told human beings are quite adaptable.

But are we? Does this new world demand a new set of rules? Can we just stay away from the bad stuff and keep busy elsewhere?

Or does reality have a way of creeping into our lives like a tomato worm to the fiftieth floor?

Do we all have to make a conscious effort to live with new challenges far scarier than ever before?

Technology we can’t even understand.

A world that’s difficult to fathom despite us being adept at understanding what is right and what is wrong yet somehow things are upside down?

I have no answers, but I imagine because my generation is older it’s more difficult to go with the new flow.

Now it’s more important than ever to find new ways to escape all the unpleasantness around us and just focus on fun things.

We need more lightness, more Christmas, more chocolate, more pickleball to get through the day.

We need to shop, do lunch, try new kinds of pizza and burn our scales in effigy.

“I saw my bathroom scale consorting with the devil.” Or is it really the devil itself?

I don’t know how to sort through all the craziness thrown at us every day. There is really no shield big enough to stop that flow, but if we need to learn anything at this age, it’s how to become the most effective Cleopatras of all time and be total queens of denial.

Some things never change, some change all the time and some are difficult to understand. Perhaps we should form Baby Boomer support groups where we can sit around and talk about the good old days when the world made sense.

When drone meant someone who never shut up and AI stood for Al who lived down the street.

When gas was nineteen cents a gallon and Trix were for kids.

When Rod Serling could scare us and there was actually something called penny candy.

If I am waxing nostalgic it’s because I miss my wax lips and when a hot summer day was called delightful and not global warming.

Maybe we could have stopped the flow of insanity and maybe not, but we all have to live in it now.

Holy Moly, there’s an invasion of tomato worms at the Plaza Rooftop in New York. I warned them but they wouldn’t listen. Home grown tomatoes my grandmother’s bustle.

Is Life What Happens While We’re Making Other Plans?

Is Life What Happens While We’re Making Other Plans?

When I was young I remember my mother and grandmother had a phrase they used often. It was their version oh well or que sera sera. I remember them saying, “Man plans and God laughs,” over and over. It seemed to address every situation. Death, a divorce, a disappointment, sickness, it seemed to apply equally to any situation.

But what does it really mean? Where does it actually apply and why?

Assuming you are a religious person you would believe that God is in charge of all things. Your destiny is determined before you’re born and even after if you believe in reincarnation.

So what is the issue with free choice and doesn’t this saying in effect eliminate your free will? Your ability to choose the life you want without interference. Then what is the truth, do we have the freedom to choose or are the choices made without any input from us at all?

My grandson asked me if I believe we have free will. Without getting into a religious discussion, I answered simply, yes about most things. What you have for lunch, what movie you want to see, the video game you choose to play, the choices we make in our own lives each day.

However, and here’s the caveat, in my estimation the big choices that affect our path are chosen for us. If on the way to Starbucks for a coffee we are meant to meet our demise, than it’s no longer a small choice, but one that’s predestined. So can we really escape our fate?

We set out in life on a path and if we veer off the universe has a way to push us back where we belong. Part of our journey would include; when we are born, die, our children our soulmates and of course the lessons we are here to learn.

Many, including my daughter believe that the lessons not learned will be repeated. If that’s true I have to say I am a slow learner because it seems like I’m always making the same mistakes. Yet if I have no free choice aren’t these mistakes inevitable and perhaps I’m destined to never learn them? And if it’s part of our destiny to learn, then what happens when we do? Does that signal the end for us, or are there always new lessons after we’ve conquered previous ones?
I’m no expert here but I do believe in destiny because I’ve witnessed it at work in my own life. Major life choices I assumed I made seem to have been pre-chosen for me and there was some type of cosmic interference in the most important ones.

So many people believe there is no fate and you are on your own. Whatever you do or how you live your life is strictly up to you and how things turn out is because of the choices you and you alone have made.

If that’s true then why are there so many choices and why do some people seem to instinctively know what to do to enhance their lives? While others, and I guess there’s no other way to say this, screw everything up?

Are some born with a superpower that allows them to instinctively know the best outcome while some are clueless?

Is there a psychic ability some possess and others don’t that allows them to live great lives while others are constantly faltering? Can having an “old soul” truly be a character trait many possess?

Is it man or is it God or Destiny that has the final say here?

I don’t know why life seems so random. Why was Cindy Crawford born looking like Cindy Crawford while others can break a mirror just walking past one.

A question I’ve always asked is: why can some eat anything they want and not gain weight while others can just sniff an éclair and gain five pounds?

Or why people are born into wealth and privilege while others face horrible circumstances in every area of their lives?

Can it be something in this life that determines our destiny before we’re even born?

Obviously this can only be the case if we’ve done something before birth to determine how we’ll be rewarded or punished in this life incarnation. Perhaps kicking our mother too much in the womb?

Are our trials and tribulations simply a result of a past existence we screwed up and are now back again to make everything right?

And did those who have good lives earn them before by conquering the lessons somewhere else?

Damned if I know. I’ve shaken my head too many times to count watching horrible people, who have done nothing but hurt and abuse others, be rewarded for their selfish, callous ways.

I’ve also seen wonderful generous giving people who spend their lives helping others suffer terrible fates.

Then what’s the answer here? Not so sure I buy the “karma” explanation anymore. Since I wasn’t there when the universe was created I can’t say for sure what this whole human experience truly consists of, or its purpose. Actually I’m not certain there is any purpose at all some days.

Many say you come back with a good life if you suffer in this one. Others argue there is no karma and what we do in this life has no bearing whatsoever on any lives past or present. It’s just one and done.

Is there a destiny, do we have free will and are we on our own here with no one to answer to but ourselves?

Do we choose our path and if wrongly chosen will we be forced back onto the one chosen for us?

I myself have thought many times about other lives I had planned to live and wondered how I got here. Is this truly the life I’d envisioned or did I miss the cues that might have led me somewhere else? 

I’ve always told myself it’s never to late to live out your dreams, but as I get older I find myself asking, were those dreams or merely an imagined life so destiny led me somewhere different? If that is the case then it is to late.  There are no do overs and although we can make changes, in the end we can’t go backward and relive another desired existence.

If this all sounds a bit familiar and a great deal sad, perhaps it is. Mostly because we lived believing we had free will and might have chosen quite differently had we known we actually did not.

So many ask themselves and others “if you had your life to live over, what would you change?”

I have never had the courage to admit I might. For in saying I’d want another life I’m expressing regret for all the good things and blessings in this one.

Perhaps we as human beings are not born with the skills or insight to choose wisely so we must be guided.

Should we have regrets? Should we castigate ourselves for bad decisions or accept our fates.

Had we ourselves chosen might not our life be empty and devoid of those sad moments that allow us to distinguish them from happy ones? And don’t we need both to understand the human condition?

By now you’re thinking I’ve taken the long way around the block to get to the same place, and perhaps I have. Perhaps because this is a question that can’t be answered.

Yet I know with certainty that as one nears the end of this voyage we truly understand the meaning of how we selected and where it all ultimately led. Why regret our choices when it’s simply easier to believe our lives were predestined. Performing the shoulda coulda woulda exercise on our lives is a wasted effort.

I say there’s nothing like blaming someone or something else for our mistakes. Now that’s a lesson most people learn very young. Perhaps God is always laughing when he sees what I choose and after all everyone loves a good laugh.

I believe the blame game comes under the heading of “The Dog Ate My Homework and Other Time-Honored Excuses.” Too bad dogs can’t eat chocolate or I’d use that one all the time.

Easy Peasy Meatball Soup

Winter is coming and even those hardcore never cook at home diners crave something easy to make on a cold snowy night. If you’d rather stay home in lieu of braving the elements, try this. It takes no time to make and it’s so tasty, you’d never know it’s a true hack.

2 Cans of Campbells Tomato Soup

2 cans of milk or half and half

½ cup of spinach

½ pound of hamburger

1 tsp Italian seasonings

½ teaspoon basil

1 slice of no cook lasagna noodles

½ cup of grated parmesan cheese (optional)

salt and pepper

Season the hamburger with salt and pepper and roll into tiny meatballs.

Place cans of tomato soup in a saucepan and add other ingredients with the exception of parmesan cheese. That’s for sprinkling on top of finished soup.

Add meatballs and turn on low heat. Break up lasagna noodle into small pieces and add to soup. Cover and cook on lowest heat until meatballs are done and noodles are soft, gently stirring occasionally. 

Serve with a sprinkling of parmesan if desired.

Enjoy!

World War Me

World War Me

The other day I watched a movie entitled War World Z  with Brad Pitt. The Zombies ran rampant across the earth biting into their victims with an excitement I’ve not seen since the annual shoe sale at Saks.

So as I became engaged in Pitt’s battle to save humanity, I wondered why there was no hero to come and rescue me and other women from the war we fight daily with our own bodies.

I know there has been much written about what it’s like to be a woman and those sneaky, evil little hormones that rule us like Kim Jong Un over North Korea, but not much is mentioned about the war we fight with our metabolisms.

Yes, I said it and anyone with XX chromosomes understands me.

Nothing is more frustrating to a woman than to be on a diet for weeks and shed a pound or two at most.

Then upset and defeated we visit the doctor who takes the usual tests and announces there are no unusual suspects.

In other words your metabolism is normal.

Normal for what, an elephant?

I have a friend who has the most honest doctor on the planet and I know this because he actually told her that her metabolism is now merely a corpse.

If it’s true God created woman to correct the mistakes he made on men, could he have not improved and sped up our metabolisms?

How many times have we heard that men lose weight faster than women?

Hello, wasn’t it enough God gave us labor pains. Did he have to give them faster weight loss too?

I’m not speaking as a feminist here; I’m speaking as a pissed-off female who is sick of getting on the scale and hearing my midriff laughing inside of me?

No scale has ever been kind to women, it is misogamy personified. It teases, ridicules and upsets you to no end and then we have to be content with that old lie, you didn’t gain weight it’s just water.

Hah!

I’ve carried around enough water to fill the northern Atlantic and I’m sick of homeless fish looking at me like they’re ready to pitch a tent in one of my boobs.

Hello! Weight is weight and no matter how anyone spins it water weight makes your clothes just as tight as fat weight.

Have you ever dieted until you’re blue in the face and crossed over a plateau into a lower number? Then the next day you’re back up again and we’re supposed to be happy it’s just water weight? What am I the female version of a Gladiator?

Who invented this cruel game Pontus Pilate?

The sad thing is usually wars end, but not the war on weight.

Once the fat cells invade your body they stay forever. They build condominiums in your thighs and love to swing inside the flab on your upper arms. Oh sure occasionally they go into hiding, waiting in the brush like little gorilla fighters for that water weight to creep up again. Then they fill themselves up and grow to a new glorious size until your jeans are digging into your waist like a monkey into a cupcake.

The diet war cannot be won, only perhaps an occasional battle.

I love those ads you see on your phone, lose forty pounds in two weeks and all you need to do is eat a gummy bear before you go to bed. I’ve eaten lots of gummy bears and I can testify that doesn’t work.

Not even a dead person can lose that much weight in so short a time and if you do better call a damn ambulance.

The easiest mark in the world is a fat person. There have been more diets and diet schemes perpetrated on this planet than cocaine at a Hollywood party.

So what can someone who loves food do, although it’s their worst enemy, like a woman who stays with a man who abusers her?

It’s not chocolate’s fault it’s mine. I’m the one who instigated the binge don’t blame the chocolate eggs. The Cadbury bunny made me do it.

If you’re expecting some great secret or never before unveiled piece of diet wisdom from this soldier it ain’t gonna happen.

I’ve climbed the ranks to become a general in the war against fat in my own body and I haven’t earned a single medal. Lord knows I have the chest to pin one on.

No one goes on one diet, loses weight and stays thin forever. If that person exists I’d like to meet and sic a pack of rabid dogs on them.

Every soldier in the battle of the bulge has been on every diet. 

And as sure as the sun comes up in the morning it will bring with it a new diet craze.

I’ve taken pills, drank drinks, eaten only three small puddings a day, counted calories, carbs, fats until I counted myself going nuts.

There are fasts, fen fen, now some new one that’s actually for diabetes but has a secondary effect of weight loss, which of course ends when you stop the pill.

I’ve saladed, starved and Mediterranean dieted until I couldn’t look at another teaspoon of olive oil. I’ve Atkins, ketoed and stuffed myself with laxatives because I couldn’t handle the idea of bulimia.

If exercise was really the key to weight loss I’d be thin from jumping on and off the scale fifty times a day.

I imagine I’m a bad general and not just because I have to keep letting out my uniform.

Sun Tzu said, “If your enemy is secure at all points be prepared for him. If he is in superior strength, evade him.” I am convinced Sun Tzu could not win a battle against my fat cells.

I can’t beat them because they are tougher than the line of bull that emanates from a politician’s mouth and I certainly can’t evade them since they are bulging over my belt.

So what’s a female general to do to win this war?

Many have said to make peace with your body. In other words just accept that you’ll never be thin and be grateful fat is “in” right now. As Ben Franklin said, “there is no such thing as a good war or a bad peace.”

So Ben since peace is good, please pass me that piece of chocolate cake. 

The Tao of the Baby Boomer

The Tao of the Baby Boomer

Yes it’s true I write a great deal about getting older. Usually I try to include humor in my tirades just to ease the pain a bit, but lately I find myself at a loss about how to stem the tide of gray hair, muscles morphing into fat and turning up the television sound at regular intervals.

Oh sure we all share the same trials and tribulations about the passing years and I’ve often thought that the Baby Boomer generation, who I believe, and more so every day was one of the smartest groups to populate the earth, should have some answers. 

However, as I meditate on the past and the idols we all shared I’m coming up a bit empty on the whole self-help front. What exactly should we have learned from the childhood icons we spent our time watching and adoring?

I’m starting with Clarabell. Don’t mock yet, for in thinking about this silent clown who preferred to communicate though a horn I have discovered so much wisdom my mind truly boggles.

First and foremost to my knowledge no one ever told us why he honked instead of talking like regular people.

So was it to promote silence? Nope, don’t think so since that damn horn was noisy and annoying. I’d rather he spout Shakespeare than keep violating my ears with that racket, so what did we learn here? Or perhaps should have learned?

Perhaps Clarabell was trying to teach us that sometimes we can communicate without the need for words. A smile, a beep, a wink or a hand gesture, and I think we all know that a hand gesture can indeed speak volumes, can suffice when communicating our thoughts.

Did he also want us to learn that we need to look behind the mask and make up human beings may use to cover up their feelings at times and see the real person? That digging deeper is sometimes a true act of charity when someone needs our help. So was the message wasted? How many of us have sought to determine whether or not someone is truly hurting when they portray a mask of unkindness to the world? Have we reached out and learned Clarabell’s lesson or merely walked away when we could have helped?

Of course most importantly is the lesson of silence. How many times have we spoken and regretted our words? How many times have we kept silent and made a greater impact? Many I assume. I know I have.

I could never speak of idols without including the great Bugs Bunny. Oh the lessons here were too numerous to mention, but one of my very favorites was wearing a mask to achieve our ends in life? No, I haven’t lost it altogether, although I admit I’m pretty close after watching the news this morning. If you will reach back into your memory banks and visualize Bugs in red lipstick and a bear trap in his mouth seductively stopping the Tasmanian Devil in his steps, you will agree that sometimes make up can do wonders. No, I don’t mean in the sense we can stop a mugger by applying lipstick, but that when we face the world both friends and adversaries, oftentimes it is necessary to wear a different face in diverse situations. We must morph into that which will achieve our ultimate goal and secure what we are seeking. In other words knowing our opponent is a special power that one might even call a super power if, we are Marvel fans.

Whether it is to close a multi-million dollar deal or simply convince a salesperson to return a sweater that pilled too quickly, our superpower is in knowing how to handle others. Thank you, Bugs. Of course it is also obvious that a little lipstick and great haircut will do wonders for seducing the opposite sex, and we probably have the Bugmeister to thank for that lesson. If he can stop the Tasmanian Devil, we can secure a second date.

American Bandstand’s lesson is an easy one, you can actually dance your troubles away and Dick Clark had found the Fountain of Youth. Although the dancing part gets a bit sketchy when you’re recovering from that knee replacement.

No list of learning would be complete without the Mickey Mouse Club. So what did we learn from the people with the mouse ears? So much. For example did you know Wednesday is anything-can-happen day? Every week I couldn’t wait for Wednesday and although I watched diligently the other four days, it was the excitement of not knowing what might happen that kept me glued to the old black and white TV set. 

This was a truly important lesson that I have carried with me my entire life. For if we’ve learned nothing from our stay on this planet it is that there is no knowing, no magic power that can prepare us for what is to come. This is the yin and yang that truly defines life. For it is the thrill of the unknown paired with the fear of tomorrow that makes life so seductive. Will tomorrow be a better day or bring more problems?Will I laugh or cry when the sun rises and am I the one who ultimately determines which that will be?

Perhaps a bit of both I say.

How many people have visited a psychic and the first thing they say is, “don’t tell me anything bad.” Ah, so there are conditions on us knowing the future after all. 

So anything can happen day is a double-edged sword. Of course on the Mickey Mouse Club it was always something fun, but in real life we’ve learned perhaps not so much all the time.

Of course there are many more examples of the Tao of the Baby Boomer or as the Mandalore put it, “This is the Way.” I shall continue to write about them from time to time and I’d love to hear from readers as well about, so please write.

In the end growing old is nothing to joke about, or is it? Is this what we have learned from all the upbeat icons of the past after all? Is it our responsibility to take the knowledge of the past and find some comfort and often much humor in what has come before?

What lessons can we embrace each day to better our lives?

First, don’t watch the news. Call a friend each day and laugh together. Count five things we are grateful for and damnit, I don’t care what anyone says, eat chocolate! I sometimes go on YouTube and pull up the acts of my favorite comedians and just sit and laugh. It does actually help and if you have some chocolate while you’re laughing, well I believe they call that achieving nirvana.

I truly believe there is no magic bullet for aging despite all those who profess to know the answers, but I do know that sharing the creaking bones, anemic metabolism and every new wrinkle with friends helps. And when you’re having a really bad day just remember what Clarabell always said…

Amazon is the Devil

Amazon is the Devil      

Any foodaholic can attest to the fact very little can stop a craving until it is satiated.

I for one can verify that on more than one occasion I’ve driven to a 7/11 in the dead of night for a snickers bar and I’m not ashamed to admit neither hell nor high water could stop me when the need for chocolate burned inside my cocoa-addicted anatomy.

Nothing less than a full-blown snow or ice emergency could keep me from the chocolaty goodness I sought, and although I later learned to satisfy my cravings in less caloric ways, the memory lingers.

I spent the last thirty years of my life wrestling with ways to address my food addiction and actually had a handle on curbing those binges that would leave me bloated and guilt ridden.

I earned my thirty year chip and although there were the occasional set backs along my road to recovery, I managed to find a level of moderation between my snickers intake and starvation diets.

My love for food and all things chocolate never changed but I had come to grips with the reality that my metabolism was born to be my greatest adversary and I had to exercise restraint in my daily eating patterns.

I felt quite certain I’d accomplished this achievement and hadn’t even ventured out at night to fulfill any cravings and then it happened. The mother of all horrible events in the life of a foodie, the pandemic hit.

And it had to be Chinese which meant like Chinese food I was hungry an hour later for 24 hours a day.

Locked up in the germ-free COVID-safe bosom of my home I could neither venture out (my children would have literally chained me to the sofa had I disregarded their orders) as I fought to find ways to deal with the lockdown, as we all did.

Let’s see, what will make me feel better about being a prisoner in my own home?

Jigsaw puzzles helped and of course Netflix came to the rescue of most of us with a non-stop array of new features to binge watch and chat about with friends.

Yet there was something lurking in the background, a voice sneaking into my conscience slowly and growing ever louder by the day.

Without the need to dress, wear make up or even dye my roots vanity took a back seat to finding ways to soothe the growing need to escape my bonds.

Yes I succumbed to those demons that had controlled my destiny in the past. That had brought me comfort and solace in times of sorrow and unhappiness or sheer frustration. But for the first time I didn’t have to venture out to seek what I craved, the devil delivered it to my door in the form of an Amazon delivery person.

This was something I never needed to know. This was a way to feed my addiction easily and constantly and I slipped.

Yes, I sold my soul for Hershey’s kisses. Oh the humanity!

I even discovered I could buy my favorite hot fudge online and ordered a giant coffee can full of the heavenly decadent favorite to luxuriate on my kitchen counter with a spoon kept nearby for frequent tastes and mood building moments when necessary.

And oh yes it became necessary more and more.

Having the luxury of Amazon was the best and worst thing that could happen to a foodie.

The true yin and yang of the calorically addicted for there in an instant I could place an order for all those foods I had fought to eliminate from my life forever and welcome them back to nurture and sooth my COVID-hating soul.

And they made it so damn easy. Jeff Bezos is the Devil. Just swipe and wait and someone shows up at your door with candy, cake and carbs enough to fatten a room full of anorexics.

For the first time in years I had candy dishes filled with M&Ms, a freezer full of Hagen Daz and homemade pies and breads with the aroma of heaven daily.

Seriously can anything cheer the spirit like the smell of apple pie or chocolate chip cookies or hot bread in the oven?

I think not which is why in between streaming television, jigsaw puzzles and a book or two my daily exercise consisted of walking back and forth to the kitchen to check what was in the oven.

I was in heaven. No waistlines, buttons or hair blowers to contend with. Like everyone else in  America confined to their home I had only my next meal to look forward to, and watching the news did little to curb my need for food compensation.

Chocolate and I were a team again and I embraced the relationship. Like returning to the man who’d consistently broken your heart and you’d sworn off a million times only to run back when he summoned.

Twelve pounds later I came face to face with my worst enemy, the scale. At the doctor weighed and scolded I had to examine my life choices once more.

My doctor looked at me with that you-know-better grin and all I could say was, “but Amazon was there tempting me all day every day. Blame Bezos not me. They kept coming and bringing food and what could I do? After I ordered all those goodies I couldn’t very well throw them out, it wouldn’t be right. It was Amazon, damnit!

He looked at me as pathetically as I deserved and urged me to exercise and gain control.

I promised I would and I headed home to my kitchen to face the music.

There was the refrigerator filled with remnants of my lapse back into foodaholicism and I knew I had to deal and start over. I needed to mend fences with my now too-tight clothes and the double chin that taunted me in the mirror when I dared look.

It was time to fess up and fress (eat in Yiddish) less and pay my diet dues once more.

I now have a handle on my love handles and have managed to lose most of the weight.

I always reread my Amazon order before swiping and am gratefully out and about more so clothes and waistlines matter again.

I burned the contract for my soul I’d gladly signed with Amazon and now I’ve gained back control of the online relationship that had overtaken my life.

I still must take it a day at a time because after all Oreos always lurk on my iPod calling to me, but I just turn up the television and start a new binge watch.

Wouldn’t it be funny of it turned out the virus came from Amazon?

Hell who knows what virus Bezos might pick up on that upcoming moon flight.

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Growing Old in Captivity

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Being old in captivity brings a whole new set of problems. Each age group has faced unique challenges in the face of this horrific world attack by an evil virus and the world has now seen the ravages of biological warfare on a global scale.

Much has been learned or one can hope, but each age group has had to face different and scary trials.

I have witnessed the tests younger people including my own children and grandchildren have faced.

It is however my own that I can speak to most clearly.

Did I fully appreciate Amazon before, probably not? Do I now? Have I completely embraced the whole let my fingers do the walking routine online? You bet. Will I be excited to run through a mall again and feel and touch the merchandise? You bet I will! Is chocolate still a panacea, it is indeed.

Busy brings distraction. Growing old is difficult and most of my generation have learned to use denial and distraction as the prevalent tools in their arsenal to battle back against the reality of old age.

Time doesn’t creep it pounces.

We look in the mirror and our close-up vision is compromised by time.

We compensate by using magnified mirrors that are probably the work of the devil, but we insist on a true glimpse into the ravages of time.

We battle back with plastic surgery, Botox, creams, treatments whatever we can unearth to slow the process.

Yet what I have discovered in the last few months is that the greatest tool in our arsenal is indeed distraction and without that we must come face to face with our own mortality.

And it isn’t pretty.

In the pre-covid 19 days I would see a new wrinkle and meet a friend for lunch, do some shopping, play Maj Jong, visit my grandsons, or any one of a million other activities, including work related to distract from the truth that stared me in the face, I am growing old. I am now the oldest generation, and time is winning.

The last few months have brought many deaths, some from covid, some from natural causes, but many I grew up with and around are suddenly gone.

Once I would hear about a death of an old friend and busy myself with trivial activities to ignore the fact that time was racing past. Distraction was king, and I say long live the king!

Now I have no such luxury. Binge watching Shitt’s Creek is not the same as being with family or friends. It isn’t working. It may provide a moment’s distraction, but our lifestyle is the ultimate defense against reality. Celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, important life events and holidays with family and friends cannot be discounted.

We hear bad news, we move, we see a gray hair we move, we feel the ravages of time on our bodies, we move.

Without movement, we have little defense.

We need as Streisand said, “People”. We need interaction, even those among us who once considered ourselves a bit of an introvert. We’ve all realized we are part of the world and we use this world to our advantage to deal with the fears and issues we face each day.

Without interaction we are forced to see life for what is it is and that can be very painful for one who is moving into old age. It even sounds sad, but once I wouldn’t have cared. I could laugh with friends, celebrate life and keep going.

Stopping is not an option. The challenge has been to keep busy and relevant now that the world has closed up shop.

Soon we will all enter a new world, a new normal; we can’t yet predict or foresee and we will have to move even further away from the world we once knew.

This is a painful exercise even in the best of times so how we will approach these good byes now.

Part of growing older are the memories we embrace, our childhoods, our parenting years and remembering those who are now gone.

I know my generation is up to this as we have overcome before, we will again. I am forcibly optimistic and choose to be.

So to all my friends I can only say what I have been saying to myself,

More than ever it is imperative we make the most of every moment. Live fully and excitedly each day and dwell only in the present. Had we ever forgotten those rules and I have many times, we cannot again.

Happy new world coming and may it be the best years of your lives.