11-11-14 "I Read the News Today"

So I woke up today

 with the first line of a Beatles' song 

bouncing around my brain cells. 

 It wasn't until 

I stepped on my (very dusty) 

bathroom scale 

that it all made horrible sense...…

Yep, "I Read the News Today Oh Boy"…..

So now, dear Readers, 

I draw you into 

 My Nasty Predicament.  

What predicament?  

To dial down that number, 

that accusing number, 

that number that always haunts me. 

 But, see, to dial down that number means 

MINDFUL EATING AND

 MINDFUL MOVING AROUND 

(" aka "Exercise")

Back to my Predicament—

I love to eat (mindlessly)

and I have a body designed 

to fiercely protect the many calories 

I throw into it. 

That results in a lifetime 

of chubbiness 

and all the shame that goes along with it.

And the other part of my predicament, 

I hate to move around (exercise) 

When other children visit a park-

they scramble over to the playground. 

 Me, I scramble (well, saunter) over

 to the nearest bench and read.

You see the problem.

Now, a Great Irony 

(God has such a sense of humor):

Arthritis has invaded most of my body,

 and that extra weight makes it worse. 

 Sigh.

I tried what in my mind 

was "a quick fix" in April 2005—

I had a bariatric bypass.  

Yes, I had my anatomy drastically altered 

to "solve" my problem. 

 At the time of the surgery, 

I weighed 278 pounds. 

 I lost 110 pounds over the next year.

And I've been slowly and horribly

 gaining it all back.  

If you set your mind to it,

 this can be done.  

Too much eating and too little exercise 

will put that flab back.

Sigh.

So I've had both knees replaced. 

 I've had my right shoulder replaced.

 I must have worn out my rotator cuff

 with all that food-to-mouth movement.

Now I walk in pain 

because the arthritis is invading my back.  

And the weight still keeps on coming.  

It's very evident 

that the weight is a real pain—

all I need to do is pick up a gallon of milk,

 and watch all my arthritic body parts 

"weigh in". (pun intended)

So, Gentle Reader,

 I begin today in my quest

 to reverse the flab festival.  

Anyone who has seen the movie "Wall-E"

 recalls that the futuristic lifestyle 

has everyone packing on the pounds 

as they loll around all day

 on little lounge chairs, 

with all their food brought to them. 

 Exercise of any sort is forbidden.  

The lifestyle looks great to me:

HOWEVER, "I've Read The News Today—

OH BOY!"

  

OCT 26 "HERE KITTY KITTY"--

We have the world's cutest cat…

Mathilda, who is now an adorable 7 months old.  

She just DRIPS with personality, 

and definitely fits into 

the tenor of our household 

(which consists of my daughter Niki and Moi).  

You think I am exaggerating—

everyone brags about their kids and pets (yawn).  

Well, she has some quirks 

that can only be explained 

as her absorbing my goddess rays 

and other unusual wave lengths 

in our household.

MATHILDA IS A BAG LADY

          Target is her preferred store—

and please note that her Target enclosure 

is politically correct 

(no evil plastic for THIS environmental feline).

MATHILDA ADORES BOXES          

as well as the fun wrapping paper.  

She creates endless varieties 

of enclosures, hidey holes 

and throne rooms

 for her stalking and sitting pleasure.

MATHILDA IS A CREEPY STALKER

and just who is she stalking?

That would be ME, in the privacy of my privy,

which somehow is private no more.

She cannot abide a door closing her out, 

especially a bathroom door.

MATHILDA CURLS UP WITH A GOOD BOOK

 She joins me at the end of my day,

propped up with my latest book.  

The book, no matter how wonderful,

eventually puts her—and me—to sleep.

And so the book (and cat) 

tumble to the floor—

all a part of our nighttime ritual.

That Mathilda—

she knocks things over, 

tears around on some crazed mission,

imposes her furry self everywhere

(including the bathroom door),

completely

rules the house….

 and our hearts.

Oct 8 Birth of a Goddess

Well, almost a month 

since my last blog. 

 You must have given up on me! 

 My intention is still a weekly blog

….sigh.

You may have wondered 

how I achieved the lofty title

 of Senior Goddess Supreme (or not).  

Well, during the days and years 

when I needed many "Aha" moments 

(an Oprah thing—

some lifesaving insight 

crashing into your soul), 

I read several daily meditations.  

 This at the very least delayed 

my getting to work….

but my several career choices 

will be subject for another blog.

ANYWAY, in the Oprah-touted book

  Simple Abundance 

(making a gratitude journal, etc.),

 I came across an "aha"

 which I retain to this very day. 

 One dreary February 3rd 

twenty years ago, 

the book exhorted me to be

 "open to change". 

 Well, I was always clutching at change

 in those years, 

so I fiercely took the next insight 

into my thirsty soul:

     "….WE ARE GIVING BIRTH TO GODDESSES…"

Well, OK!  

From that aha moment on, 

I was self-appointed Goddess

….it somehow felt right.  

And because of my (ahem)

 advancing years, 

I am now a Senior Goddess.  

And if I'm going to be a Goddess, 

I may as well be Supreme.

So there you go (or I go):

SENIOR GODDESS SUPREME,

with my birth year, 41, 

to finish off my title.

Some years into my goddess-ship (?),

 I came across this delightful poster, 

which really validated

that I should continue

 to "embrace the Goddess" 

within me.  

I've had a checkered career 

of careers, 

and certain job skills just plain eluded me.

(before the computer 

and the wonderful "delete" key existed). 

I could be bright and interesting 

and punctual and willing to work, 

but I just was never 

the most enthusiastic or accurate 

typist.  

And then I was validated:

    The jaunty message 

        next to this whimsical depiction of me is:  

       I DO MUCH BETTER

 AS A GODDESS,

   SHE SAID, 

      SINCE MY SECRETARIAL SKILLS

      HAVE ALWAYS BEEN LIMITED.

    So declareth me, myself, 

SGS41.

   

MY BOX SEAT

So our kitty Mathilda loves to be "boxed in".  

Her latest home away from home 

is the above Amazon packing box, 

which seems to REALLY please her. 

(Cats must be really pleased at all times!)  

This may have to do with its compact size.  

Hmm, 

since I tend to take everything in my life

 and relate it back to me somehow, 

I wonder about MY favored "box".

It seems to be the right-most

 sofa cushion, 

with my lamp and end table,

pile of books, 

remote controls

to the TV and DVD player,

cup holder for coffee, 

end table for wine, 

notepad for reminders 

and other brilliant musings,

 pens for same purpose, 

cell phone and charger, 

glasses, 

              kleenex,

                             ottoman,

….oh, and my LAPTOP—

the best appliance EVER!

Well, here it is, my Comfort Station….

which is

 an important adjunct

 to my BOX SEAT

….the best part of the day

…the best seat in the house…

With that basket of books,

remote controls,

lovely laptop,

cute lil cell phone,

I have untold adventures,

travel anywhere,

see anything,
purchase anything (dangerous),

talk to anyone I want to talk to….

IT'S ALL MEEEEE—NOW!

SEPT 1ST—LABOR DAY LOLLING!

Well, my daily blog never materialized….

my weekly blog even fell apart.  

But I'm BACK!  

It's Labor Day, first day of September, 

and a good day to jump back into blogging.

Something Niki said last evening:

   "We spend way too much time talking about the cat."

This is our cat Mathilda,

with us since end of May, 

cute as, 

well, 

a kitten of five months can be:

She is mostly great fun and cuddly and cute—

——except when she's not.

Like when she tears around our apartment,

attacking the blinds on the windows,

climbing the walls (yes, it's not just a cliche),

drinking any liquid in any open vessel,

stalking bugs—real or imaginary,

pretty much--like Superman--

leaping at buildings (sort of)

in a single bound.

When she's being precious, 

or at least not kittenish and lively,

we laugh at the various spots she chooses

to "hang out",

as if that particular corner or area

had been assigned to her.

These spots include:

cushions and throws

cushy humans-- 

baskets resembling cushy humans

any kind of box,

 packing paper optional but highly desirable

—and just about anywhere else

that is her assignment/project

for the moment.

See what I mean?

Two weeks since my last blog—

and THIS is the only thing

 on my mind/keyboard?

*****Meow!*****

Well, actually she doesn't "meow" 

as much as squeak

in the cutest way….

so

cute

and

adorable

and

kittenish.

*****Squeak!*****

AUG 19TH—SOUL DANCING!

So a dear friend gave me these earrings 

for my recent July birthday…..

Cute—right?  

Dancing person dangling from my ears!

I wear them every day…

…because it reminds me 

that I am dancing on the inside, 

even if 

I'm walking slowly 

on the outside….

I imagine that 

all the plodding seniors I see 

are doing a slight twirl or whirl

 in their soul….

that's where the real celebrating 

and joyous motion 

counts!

***TUES AUG 12TH—CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF READING--

Here I sit, in my favorite spot on the sofa, 

enjoying an afternoon of reading 

(Written in My Own Heart's Blood,
 by Diana Gabaldon) 

and freshly brewed coffee, 

and pecking away at my beloved laptop.

Some folk (who ARE those people?) 

might consider this unexciting or dull,

but not me—NEVER me!  

Strenuous activities confound me, 

since arthritis has come to reside 

in my arms and legs and joints. 

 But then I always loved reading,

for which I have always been 

physically able and emotionally ready!

I remember riding my bike over 

to the Austin branch of the 

Chicago Public Library, at Central and Race—

This would be the 1950's, 

and I could load up my bicycle basket 

with a summer's worth of books—

it was called a "Vacation Loan". 

 What a treat! 

 Plain bound books, no cover art,

 didn't matter—

they were beautiful and colorful to me….

 No special library reading programs 

or cute children's library areas, 

but it was heavenly.

Just the inky smell of all those words, 

floating in all those books, 

a world of escape with every page….

like my first foray into 

the delicious world of mystery fiction—

Nancy Drew still rivals Miss Marple…

I listen to books whenever I'm in the car. 

I end my day, every day, with some reading

—indeed until the books drops to the floor,

 and I am literally nodding off!

My Arlington Heights Libraryoffers a decadent service

in which I freely indulge:a drive-by pickup window!

My favorite quote about reading, which adorns my email signature, 

was voiced by my beloved Louisa May Alcott.  

A beautifully illustrated edition of Little Women, 

my favorite book since I received it for Christmas,

  when I was eight, graces my permanent home library.

Fiction reading was considered damaging 

to the delicate feminine constitution pre-20th Century: 

“She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.” 

(Louisa May Alcott)

             I am so happy for all that frivolous brain-turning!

SAT AUG 9TH--SUNNY SATURDAY

So I was gathering up some quotes about hope,

looking to be inspired as the day begins…..

I really liked this one:

“There is a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in.” 
 (Leonard Cohen)

I like it—nothing too flowery, but still makes its point.

Arising at six am today, I had the joy of seeing the sun 

make its fresh appearance for the day.  Being handed this

new day "on a platter"…what a gift.

I may ache with arthritis, but I have my freshly brewed 

Monet mug of coffee, my vitamins, and my hope….that 

persistent hope that can see the light through the crack.

MON AUG 4TH: HAPPY NEW WEEK!

MONDAY MONDAY—JULY 28, 2014

The Senior Goddess enjoyed one of her favorite social pastimes today: a meal out with special people in my life.  My calendar is happily filled with many such events, particularly because it only requires:
 
    *the company of people with whom you love to hang out
    *a strong desire--it follows—to see such fun people
    *an ability to converse, interrupt, laugh and talk loudly
    *enjoying the necessary consumption of a meal out
             (especially brunch or lunch)
    *a facility for sitting in one spot for at least two hours

I can modestly boast that I excel at all these requirements.  So I pepper my calendar with these meals, many of which regularly occur—often monthly.

My arthritic joints are not conducive to heavily athletic activities (even mildly athletic); my budget restricts exotic travel plans or pricey events: my senior clock prefers morning/early afternoon scheduling—but, hey,
I can (and DO) work around these limitations.

I dearly love that moment I am pushing the restaurant door open, knowing that some special people are waiting for me at a table inside, as happy to see me as I am to see them (I'm assuming here).

I sure hope that Heaven has tables and menus for us all, for some coffee and eternal togetherness.  Surely God wouldn't—couldn't—stop the laughter and sharing, maybe even with some sweet potato fries on the side.

SUNDAY JULY 27, 2014—SENIOR GODDESS SUPREME RETURNS!

Inside that slowly walking Senior Goddess there lives a young, vibrant life-loving dancing goddess.  She will relate her daily adventures as she happily greets each day, with her dear daughter Niki and kitty Mathilda….and various other roommates of the inanimate variety…

They all joined me on this Sunday afternoon while I read and relax and reflect on how blessed I am.

PHOTO

  Happiness is my three Beautiful

Grandbabies--Bella, Rosie and Jake!

                         

Quote from "Happiness is an Inside Job" by Sylvia Boorstein

I may be citing more quotes from this book, which I just started reading today, but this one I must keep:

"Life is an ongoing series of changing circumstances to which human beings are continually called upon to respond.  What the Buddha taught is that we could respond happily."

Right on!

Words Alive!

So I sit here on a cloudy so-so Sunday in March—the 17th, St. Patty's Day, for the benefit of my dear Irish friends and relatives—and I commit myself to an old, resurrected goal: to write for fun and profit.  Ah, the freelancing dream…I am dusting it off again.  So many years ago, I began freelancing because I met a successful freelancer, my neighbor Joan Anderson, and thought I'd see if I could earn a few dollars just typing some profit-mongering prose.

Amazingly, I had some limited success…but I did not continue on for years, as did my talented and hardworking neighbor.

But I sit here at my laptop, contemplating the need for cash…not a new need, but a rather persistent one these days in my fixed-income senior world.  And though my writing has been limited to countless words eked out on my emails, it (the urge?, the talent?) has always been lurking around me.

I have happily "spent" many unpaid hours to creating presentations for my continual learning group at Roosevelt University in Schaumburg…officially, ICLRU, Institute for Continual Learning at Roosevelt University.  I have learned to use PowerPoint, have honed (and indulged) my humor and performance abilities, and have been rewarded mightily—not in dollars, but in a sense of achievement and ego-boosting.

I became the teacher I had wanted to be all my life—to an appreciative and responsive audience of my friends and peers.

Since I could choose any topic for presentation, I used films and political humor as my topics and main tools of presentation.  It has been—continues to be—a wonderful outlet for me.  I am tapping into my only real resource available—myself…and am amazed at what I have been finding…maybe not a motherlode, but a rich vein of treasure that was always there.

And now I contemplate the real need to enhance my income, my fixed income, and I turn once more to the idea of freelance writing.  I turn to my usual resources…mostly via my wonderful Arlington Heights Memorial Library….to check out the competitive and demanding writing market.

I would still limit myself to nonfiction articles—how-to laced with humor, or visa versa.  I had tried the greeting card market at various time, but this time am going to just concentrate on newspaper and magazine markets…virtual and online.

I have to limber up my rusty skills, which have been limited to endless emails.  My journal attempts are sadly sporadic.  My daily writing, a la Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, has to start up again.  She proposes a daily regimen of nonstop, non-edited journal writing ("morning pages")—three pages every morning.

Well, I started this blog entry slightly before noon this Sunday, and I intend to refresh my blog daily after neglecting it as I have any journalizing of note.  But I commit to morning pages in my paperized Journal, as well as my blog.

And may the Writing Force be with me, as I then attempt some moneymaking form of writing after my warmup words.  No matter what the result, it will be time well spent….and my time is precious, and deserves to be spent well!

PHOTO--Rosie's Tent April 2012

PHOTO--Rosie in Repose May 2012

DAY 2 AT REHAB

I let a few days slip by without journalizing, so I'm setting up my "recall" button, and hoping for the best.

My OT therapist Char laughed when I asked her how many years she had been doing this…."since 1965"….and five years past her retirement…she missed it too much…and still guides recovering folks like me to tying our shoes and getting out of bed, etc. On Day 2, we practiced my "sitting pretty" as I land my tush (gratefully) on any nearby chair. I tended to "plop" abruptly, landing with an oomph and small scream of pain and gratitude that I was off my feet. But thanks to Char, I am now sitting pretty and with style…or at the very least, without the violent drop landing.

Weighing In!

So, an incredible time since my last entry…which is typical for sporadic me. Life is going well. Today is Father's Day, and I celebrate my two sons, Matt and Jeff, who are wonderful, loving fathers to Rosie (Matt's) and Jake and Bella (Jeff's). It is an immeasurable joy to watch my sons "in action"—from changing diapers to playing peekaboo to giving baths to singing silly songs to all the loving and fun moments that fill up their days, and the days of their beautiful children, my grandchildren. And I recover from my double knee replacement surgery last November (11-11-11), and try to work out on the NuStep machine five days per week—prodded by the fast music throbbing in my ears. I have found the tempo of "Footloose" to be a great tempo to keep "stepping" and pedalling. That I have found ANYTHING to get me moving is a miracle. Now to the eating portion of my health regimen…that's going in fits and starts. I gained 30 pounds since my Bariatric Surgery in April, 2005, and I am not doing my knees, my arthritic body, or my ever-present ego any favors by NOT losing these pounds again. I have discovered a pleasant way to "tweak" my daily intake—less food, some wine! Take in a glass of wine in the evening, with my book reading (my ritual before-I-get-sleepy) practice. The point is to just drink, and not eat at this time. And the wine should be a reward for working out regularly that week..30 to 40 minutes, five days a week. I put a perky reward sticker on my calendar on these proud workout days—a suggestion from my adorable granddaughter Rosie who is an expert in calendar reward stickers. The method is working SOMEWHAT, but somewhat is better than before. And somehow, when I walk into Teddy Liquor's, my friendly neighborhood liquor store, I feel strangely "at home"….like I do when I walk into a Target store….like I have NEVER felt when I've walked into a Costco store. I pay close attention to these intuitive feelings—they are strong, and part of my reality, my daily wandering through this lovely life I am still tweaking and inventing as I go along, even as a I approach my 71st (OUCH) birthday.

ONE WEEK SINCE SURGERY

So it's been an amazing week since they cut my knees apart, and replaced them with "Female" Omni knees…and I can't believe that I'm walking (with the walker of course) short distances. I just found out at breakfast the the "bibs" I've been wearing at meals are REALLY called "Clothes Protectors". One of the nurses who sniffed this information to me seemed to take umbrage at my joking "bib" remark….guess even at rehab meals, we must try to be politically correct!

There's a laundry service at the rehab facility, which I was ready to use….until I found out about the hapless patient who is still (not so patiently) waiting for his clothes—just about all of them—which were whisked away a week ago, never to be seen again!
Another Rehab Mystery.

VIEW FROM THE COMMODE—1

Hi Everyone,

Just to dispel the nasty image from the Subject Line, I am now happily (!) using normal toilet facilities…believe me, you become very excited over small achievements…will spare any more details.

I like The Moorings—moved here Monday evening…have enjoyed two meals in their dining room with fellow replacement buddies….such a support group—never have I discussed so thooughly what I couldn't do with my sore knees until I was here!

I'm here probably two to three weeks…flexible timing.

Fun Facts I've Learned So Far:

Women can handle pain better than men (told to my by my MALE surgeon, verified by everyone).
They supply big terrycloth bibs in the dining room to all of us…and I love it!
Hope relieves a great deal of pain.
A huge support team of family and friends ROCKS even more than I expected!

As Matt mailed to you, I'm easing into the therapy, so would really appreciate email more than anything these next few days…and please call before dropping by..my days are busy (and so fun)!

Love to you all…bless you for the prayers and good thoughts that have buoyed me up.