I never thought I'd be saying this, but I'm typing this post on an Apple iPad! Me, the PC aficionado, who's had to listen to rhapsodic raves on the joys of owning an Apple product from my graphic designer husband, who's had to hear "You wouldn't have this problem with a Mac!" every time something crashed on my HP laptop...I have an iPad!
Typing is a challenge using the on-screen keyboard. What's not apparent here is that I've had to retype at least every other word. and when I want to add something so unusual (sarcasm alert) as an apostrophe, I need to click another screen for the rest of the keys. I can only hope that this learning experience is helping my aging brain ward off dementia.
The real reason for getting this extravagant gadget is that I want to be able to write while traveling. And I will--in between Boggle games (one of the first apps I bought).
Watch this space...
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Gainfully employed
It’s been 3-1/2 years since I downshifted to part-time work, and people often ask me why I continue to work at all. (These are usually people who have already retired and, I think, are looking for someone to play with—and by that I mean lunches, shopping, visiting.) My answer always begins with “There are three good reasons I’m still working.” At that point, those who asked just to be polite are starting to regret the effort.
Here are my three top reasons, not necessarily in order of importance. And, with luck, I’ll think of a fourth by the time I’m done.
1) I love the income stream. Not only am I receiving an hourly wage for my 21 hours per week (although no vacation, illness, or holiday pay), but the company is still contributing to my retirement account—and still allowing me to add my own funds to the supplemental retirement account. That’s golden, even “bleeping” golden… (sorry, Chicagoland readers; I’ve heard the Blago tapes so often, I’ve picked up the lingo).
With the up and down stock markets, the on-again, off-again recession, and just plain old uncertainly, I like the fact that I can bring in money almost as fast as I can spend it.
2) I enjoy the work, most of the time. I get to be imaginative in my approach to marketing natural gas industry training and conferences, and it's delightfully challenging. I write a monthly e-newsletter and the copy for our brochures, catalogs, ads, and web site and have a lot of creative freedom.
There are always tasks I don’t much care for, but they’re usually short-term. I can also turn down a high level of responsibility for an ongoing task I don’t like. When “but I’m only here three days a week” doesn’t get me out of it, mumbling “Maybe I’ll retire” usually does.
3) I love my colleagues. Or, I very much like most of them, but I truly love some of them. I enjoy gossiping with them, hearing their after-work stories, and, especially, telling my own day-off stories. And when it comes to the women, I like to see what they’re wearing. Most important of all, they’re fun to work with.
I haven’t yet thought of a solid fourth reason, but I do believe that if I were not working those three days, I would sleep too much, watch too much TV, shop way over my budget, and more often grab my husband’s iTouch to waste another hour playing Boggle.
Here are my three top reasons, not necessarily in order of importance. And, with luck, I’ll think of a fourth by the time I’m done.
1) I love the income stream. Not only am I receiving an hourly wage for my 21 hours per week (although no vacation, illness, or holiday pay), but the company is still contributing to my retirement account—and still allowing me to add my own funds to the supplemental retirement account. That’s golden, even “bleeping” golden… (sorry, Chicagoland readers; I’ve heard the Blago tapes so often, I’ve picked up the lingo).
With the up and down stock markets, the on-again, off-again recession, and just plain old uncertainly, I like the fact that I can bring in money almost as fast as I can spend it.
2) I enjoy the work, most of the time. I get to be imaginative in my approach to marketing natural gas industry training and conferences, and it's delightfully challenging. I write a monthly e-newsletter and the copy for our brochures, catalogs, ads, and web site and have a lot of creative freedom.
There are always tasks I don’t much care for, but they’re usually short-term. I can also turn down a high level of responsibility for an ongoing task I don’t like. When “but I’m only here three days a week” doesn’t get me out of it, mumbling “Maybe I’ll retire” usually does.
3) I love my colleagues. Or, I very much like most of them, but I truly love some of them. I enjoy gossiping with them, hearing their after-work stories, and, especially, telling my own day-off stories. And when it comes to the women, I like to see what they’re wearing. Most important of all, they’re fun to work with.
I haven’t yet thought of a solid fourth reason, but I do believe that if I were not working those three days, I would sleep too much, watch too much TV, shop way over my budget, and more often grab my husband’s iTouch to waste another hour playing Boggle.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Old friends are new again
There are still many simple pleasures in our seventh decade. The other day I had lunch followed by delightful shopping with a long-time friend. We first met when we were both back-to-college moms—I thought I might be the only older student there, and she probably thought the same. Then we were seated next to each other during a break one day and revealed our backgrounds. She had a daughter about 12 or so, a year older than one of mine. Since then, through the years, we’ve met for dinner or lunch occasionally. But our hectic schedules were out of sync, and months—years—would pass without any contact.
We connected again on Facebook (it does have its advantages), and started making plans to get together. She’s newly retired, and I’m semi-retired, so we felt like ladies of leisure when we met recently to have a slow-paced meal with more chatting than eating. Since my next “obligation” was a 3:00 hair appointment, I had time to show her my favorite shops, and we commiserated over all the expensive things we’d like to buy if only we could count on the stock market keeping our retirement funds intact. (Insert laughter here.)
We found it hard to believe that it was over 35 years ago since we were both wondering if we could blend into academic life after seeing our girls through their early years. Now, it’s as if we got reacquainted as very different people. We’re now grandmothers, we’ve pretty much run out of the energy we had when we were in our 30s and 40s. But with that energy also came some very low lows—tying our fragile self-esteem to what others did or said to us.
We’re not completely self-assured now. But we are comfortable. Sure, we commiserate over eyelashes that are getting skimpy, bags under our eyes that are getting baggier, and having to make that dreaded call to Medicare—the one in which you’re shouting into the phone “Enroll in Part B!” and the automatic system starts running a long spiel about Part D. But we’re also relaxed and happy that our daily commuting and work stress are behind us.
I wish I could end this with a funny line or twist, but I’m still basking in the glow of friendships—old and new.
We connected again on Facebook (it does have its advantages), and started making plans to get together. She’s newly retired, and I’m semi-retired, so we felt like ladies of leisure when we met recently to have a slow-paced meal with more chatting than eating. Since my next “obligation” was a 3:00 hair appointment, I had time to show her my favorite shops, and we commiserated over all the expensive things we’d like to buy if only we could count on the stock market keeping our retirement funds intact. (Insert laughter here.)
We found it hard to believe that it was over 35 years ago since we were both wondering if we could blend into academic life after seeing our girls through their early years. Now, it’s as if we got reacquainted as very different people. We’re now grandmothers, we’ve pretty much run out of the energy we had when we were in our 30s and 40s. But with that energy also came some very low lows—tying our fragile self-esteem to what others did or said to us.
We’re not completely self-assured now. But we are comfortable. Sure, we commiserate over eyelashes that are getting skimpy, bags under our eyes that are getting baggier, and having to make that dreaded call to Medicare—the one in which you’re shouting into the phone “Enroll in Part B!” and the automatic system starts running a long spiel about Part D. But we’re also relaxed and happy that our daily commuting and work stress are behind us.
I wish I could end this with a funny line or twist, but I’m still basking in the glow of friendships—old and new.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Under the big top
Have you noticed the tops that are fashionable now, the ones that billow out below the bustline—sort of like maternity wear of yore? Some even have those cute puffy sleeves like my old maternity tops. The availability of these styles is good news and bad news and good news:
The good news is that the loose, flowing fabric can cover a multitude of your ingestive sins, such as the bag of pita chips that disappeared while you were watching “The Good Wife.”
The bad news is that, unless you sport a perfectly flat belly, these loose-across the stomach styles can make you look pregnant.
The good news is that if anyone mistakenly asks you, “When are you due?” you can bask in the glory of knowing that at least one person on Earth thinks you may be young enough to actually get pregnant. This poor misguided soul thinks you haven’t gone through menopause yet.
My own reason for wearing one of these tops is that I’ve been enjoying food too much these past few months. While a hearty appetite can be a sign of good physical and mental health, my jeans and cropped pants don’t agree. In protest, they pinch and strain, displaying a more rounded belly than I remember seeing last year. My only recourse is to wear the big top that flowingly covers my bulge. And bravely risk looking pregnant.
The good news is that the loose, flowing fabric can cover a multitude of your ingestive sins, such as the bag of pita chips that disappeared while you were watching “The Good Wife.”
The bad news is that, unless you sport a perfectly flat belly, these loose-across the stomach styles can make you look pregnant.
The good news is that if anyone mistakenly asks you, “When are you due?” you can bask in the glory of knowing that at least one person on Earth thinks you may be young enough to actually get pregnant. This poor misguided soul thinks you haven’t gone through menopause yet.
My own reason for wearing one of these tops is that I’ve been enjoying food too much these past few months. While a hearty appetite can be a sign of good physical and mental health, my jeans and cropped pants don’t agree. In protest, they pinch and strain, displaying a more rounded belly than I remember seeing last year. My only recourse is to wear the big top that flowingly covers my bulge. And bravely risk looking pregnant.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Beam me up, please
You know those exercises described step-by-step in magazine articles? For those over sixty, a vital step may be missing from the instructions:
Step 1. Get down on your hands and knees.
Step 2. Straighten your left leg.
Step 3. While straightening your left leg, raise your right arm.
Step 4. Hold for six seconds, lower, and repeat 10 times.
What’s missing? Step 5, telling you how to get up, sub-step by sub-step. For example:
Step 5a. Look around you to see if anyone is watching. (That is, anyone who would make fun of you while you struggle to get back to a standing position.) Alternative Step 5a: Look around you to see if anyone with a kind, understanding demeanor can help you if you are unable to follow the next sub-steps.)
Step 5b. If the coast is clear, press down hard on your hands in an attempt to boost yourself up. Try to squelch the “Ooph” and “Oy” and “Arghh” that will involuntarily escape from your voicebox.
Step 5c. Move your left leg from the kneeling position and place that foot firmly on the floor.
Step 5d. Look around again to make sure nobody is watching this. Be especially vigilant for anyone holding a digital video camera or cell phone—and who knows how to post on You Tube.
Step 5e. Placing all your weight on both hands and your left foot, and using all the strength you have left, elevate yourself to a standing position. Try not to stagger once you’re upright.
Step 5f. Vow to stick to walking and lifting 3-pound weights (from a standing position) ever after.
Step 1. Get down on your hands and knees.
Step 2. Straighten your left leg.
Step 3. While straightening your left leg, raise your right arm.
Step 4. Hold for six seconds, lower, and repeat 10 times.
What’s missing? Step 5, telling you how to get up, sub-step by sub-step. For example:
Step 5a. Look around you to see if anyone is watching. (That is, anyone who would make fun of you while you struggle to get back to a standing position.) Alternative Step 5a: Look around you to see if anyone with a kind, understanding demeanor can help you if you are unable to follow the next sub-steps.)
Step 5b. If the coast is clear, press down hard on your hands in an attempt to boost yourself up. Try to squelch the “Ooph” and “Oy” and “Arghh” that will involuntarily escape from your voicebox.
Step 5c. Move your left leg from the kneeling position and place that foot firmly on the floor.
Step 5d. Look around again to make sure nobody is watching this. Be especially vigilant for anyone holding a digital video camera or cell phone—and who knows how to post on You Tube.
Step 5e. Placing all your weight on both hands and your left foot, and using all the strength you have left, elevate yourself to a standing position. Try not to stagger once you’re upright.
Step 5f. Vow to stick to walking and lifting 3-pound weights (from a standing position) ever after.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
If there are Senior Olympics, I’m not entering.
One day, while showering, I emitted a snuffle/breath that came out like a whistle. My unconventional reaction? I thought, “I can still whistle!” Why I assumed that a relatively useless skill (for me) like whistling would fade with age, I’m not sure, but I was glad to see that something of the old me (who, truth be told, rarely whistled) was intact.
Being habitually negative, I started to think about what I can't do anymore. I can no longer—
• Get up from sitting on the floor without thinking about how I’m going to balance weight on my hands to push myself up semi-gracefully. (Note: This can’t really be done with any gracefulness. And it’s usually accompanied by a grunt.)
• Sit anywhere for longer than 15 minutes without feeling achy—and making crackling noises—when I stand up.
• Fold the Chicago Tribune neatly while I’m reading it, despite the fact that it has shrunk considerably in the past year.
• Lift my packed suitcase, no matter how much I rely on lightweight Chico’s Travelers clothing. Thank goodness my new bag has spinner wheels. And I must always travel with my husband so he can hoist the bag onto the platform when we’re checking in. Similarly, I need him to lift the bag off the carousel when we arrive. (Fortunately, I also like traveling with him.)
• Remember the name of someone I’ve recently met, even if it was ten seconds ago.
• Digest broccoli gracefully. (This needs no further explanation. If you think otherwise, you’ll have to tap into your own gastrointestinal anecdotes.)
If there were true Senior Olympics, the games would include all of the above efforts, with the gold medal going to anyone whose dexterity (and inner health) matched that of a fifty-year-old. For me, even earning an honorable mention is a pipe dream. But I can still whistle.
Being habitually negative, I started to think about what I can't do anymore. I can no longer—
• Get up from sitting on the floor without thinking about how I’m going to balance weight on my hands to push myself up semi-gracefully. (Note: This can’t really be done with any gracefulness. And it’s usually accompanied by a grunt.)
• Sit anywhere for longer than 15 minutes without feeling achy—and making crackling noises—when I stand up.
• Fold the Chicago Tribune neatly while I’m reading it, despite the fact that it has shrunk considerably in the past year.
• Lift my packed suitcase, no matter how much I rely on lightweight Chico’s Travelers clothing. Thank goodness my new bag has spinner wheels. And I must always travel with my husband so he can hoist the bag onto the platform when we’re checking in. Similarly, I need him to lift the bag off the carousel when we arrive. (Fortunately, I also like traveling with him.)
• Remember the name of someone I’ve recently met, even if it was ten seconds ago.
• Digest broccoli gracefully. (This needs no further explanation. If you think otherwise, you’ll have to tap into your own gastrointestinal anecdotes.)
If there were true Senior Olympics, the games would include all of the above efforts, with the gold medal going to anyone whose dexterity (and inner health) matched that of a fifty-year-old. For me, even earning an honorable mention is a pipe dream. But I can still whistle.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Bite me
I read a tip on Real Beauty's web site about how to get that “almost bitten” look for your lips. Are they kidding?
I concede that maybe this sexy, wicked look may work for someone in her early 20’s, and I know the writer was not even contemplating addressing someone like me. Besides, if I had that “almost bitten” look, the only message that would send is that I’m starting to show signs of dementia and couldn’t distinguish between my lips and my breakfast. Ouch.
I concede that maybe this sexy, wicked look may work for someone in her early 20’s, and I know the writer was not even contemplating addressing someone like me. Besides, if I had that “almost bitten” look, the only message that would send is that I’m starting to show signs of dementia and couldn’t distinguish between my lips and my breakfast. Ouch.
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