“A dog is like an eternal Peter Pan, a child who never grows old and who therefore is always available to love and be loved.”
--Aaron Katcher, American Educator and Psychiatrist
“Properly trained, a man can be dog's best friend.”
--Corey Ford, American writer
I want to be like my dog. He’s so full of life and zest and love. He doesn’t second guess anything I say or do and he lives his life “full steam ahead”, no questions asked. He believes me when I tell him how pretty he is after a haircut. He eats his meals with relish and doesn’t bemoan how many calories are in the kibble. He jumps for joy when given a treat, and doesn’t wonder if he should go to Weight Watchers because he got an extra bone for dessert.
How wonderful to be able to take doggy naps whenever you want. How great to wake up happy and refreshed and full of energy. Why can’t I walk two miles and still want to play? Why can’t I wear a dorky looking sweater and look incredibly adorable?
Like my dog, I want to be able to live my life full of joy and eternal happiness – to show my loved ones how much I adore them and want to be with them; to shower my friends with kisses – and to not look crazy when I shake my butt because I’m incredibly happy to see them.
I want to live like my dog. He lives in the present moment. He finds joy in everything he does. He doesn’t over-plan his days, forgetting about living in the “right now”…in fact he relishes in just “being”. He relaxes with abandon, lying on his back without a care in the world. He knows he is loved and lets me know that he is grateful for it – and will return it a thousand-fold.
I want to live like my dog…never worrying about what size I am or how my hair looks. My dog doesn’t question if someone likes him; actually there is no doubt in his mind. He plays in the mud and sticks his head out of the car window to feel the wind in his face, gloriously taking in all his surroundings while his ears fly back behind his head. He smiles when he sees me, running with glee to tell me how much he’s missed me even if we’ve only been apart for a moment.
To be like my dog will make me a better person. I will always consider and appreciate my humanness, but will also try to learn to live what comes so naturally for my dog: 1) Enjoy life for what it is 2) Be yourself 3) Love without thought or judgment. Thank you my furry friend for these lessons – you have trained me well.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Sweet Home in California
The sun isn’t shining - yet. But very soon, I will see the reflection on the bright blue and green of the ocean. I can’t get enough of it. We are perched on top of a hill, with views of valley and mountains and ocean. I am back in California and am not only soaking up the sun, but the love and the comfort and memories of home.
I am sitting at my mom’s computer (she’s in her 80’s and knows more about the internet than I do) and looking up at a picture of my dad - his young, handsome, unlined face is looking down at me as I write. He’s wearing his flight jacket - the same musty, cracked leather brown bomber jacket that I wear during the cold winter months in Ohio. I went to see my dad a few days back. He’s buried in a lovely cemetery in the Garden of Valor - reserved for men and women that have served our country.
Soon I will take a walk along the canyon, smelling all the smells that evoke childhood memories: sage, eucalyptus and sea salt. We are having our “June Gloom” weather where it’s quite cool in the morning and fog is mixed with clouds. The sun will show up after lunch and then the rest of the day will be glorious.
I have spent the past week on the beach. I couldn’t get enough of the sand, the salt and the cold Pacific creeping up over my toes. I felt like a 4th grader, shouting as I watched dolphins swim off the pier - or a sea lion body surfing next to the surfers with the boards. I watched huge pelicans flying in formation, looking like small Pterodactyl dinosaur birds, diving into the ocean for their lunch. I collected sea shells for my always growing collection - memories to be taken back to Ohio for my “California room”.
I am not going to lie - I get very homesick. It’s as if I have one foot home in Ohio and one foot back here, in Southern California. I miss my kids and grandkids, my dogs and my friends. (My husband is with me so I am not missing him!). I miss my garden and the woods behind my house. But I also miss my mom, my sister and brother, the ocean where I learned how to body surf, my friends that I grew up with and that “California” feeling and attitude.
Those that know me don’t deny I am a little out of place in the mid-west. Although it is my home, there are times I may seem a little out of sync. (You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl.) I’ve never tried to change my attitude or spirit. I guess for that very reason, it’s very easy to be living a life with one foot in each location. When I am home in Ohio, I live that life fully. When I come back home to California, I don’t miss a step.
It has taken me awhile to discover the reason why I am able to live two lives without becoming schizophrenic: I am at peace with myself. I am happy living and “just being” wherever I am planted. There is no doubt I am currently in one of the most beautiful places in the world. And I believe because of the gift that I am learning everyday - the gift of learning to love every waking minute and living for the “now” - I am able to soak up the wonderfulness and uniqueness of each location with relish, and not regret time away from either home.
Soon I will be back in Ohio, my time spent here fading like my tan. And instead of dwelling on not being here, and obsessing about planning my next trip, I will instead take a deep breath and appreciate the sights and smells of my current home. I will reflect upon my seashells and lounge in my beach-themed screened-in porch. I will choose not to be homesick; instead I will savor the memories of the ocean, while soak up the smells of pine, fresh mowed grass and smoke from the bonfire in our backyard. Instead of missing the view of the ocean, I will delight in the sight of the luscious woods behind our house, that house the bright red Cardinals and the furry-tailed squirrels. I will smile as I hear the dogs bark, the grandkids shout and my friends and family laughing and joking. Home is where the heart is. And I’ve decided it’s ok to share my heart with two different homes…and to not dwell where I can’t be - but instead to appreciate where I am.
I am sitting at my mom’s computer (she’s in her 80’s and knows more about the internet than I do) and looking up at a picture of my dad - his young, handsome, unlined face is looking down at me as I write. He’s wearing his flight jacket - the same musty, cracked leather brown bomber jacket that I wear during the cold winter months in Ohio. I went to see my dad a few days back. He’s buried in a lovely cemetery in the Garden of Valor - reserved for men and women that have served our country.
Soon I will take a walk along the canyon, smelling all the smells that evoke childhood memories: sage, eucalyptus and sea salt. We are having our “June Gloom” weather where it’s quite cool in the morning and fog is mixed with clouds. The sun will show up after lunch and then the rest of the day will be glorious.
I have spent the past week on the beach. I couldn’t get enough of the sand, the salt and the cold Pacific creeping up over my toes. I felt like a 4th grader, shouting as I watched dolphins swim off the pier - or a sea lion body surfing next to the surfers with the boards. I watched huge pelicans flying in formation, looking like small Pterodactyl dinosaur birds, diving into the ocean for their lunch. I collected sea shells for my always growing collection - memories to be taken back to Ohio for my “California room”.
I am not going to lie - I get very homesick. It’s as if I have one foot home in Ohio and one foot back here, in Southern California. I miss my kids and grandkids, my dogs and my friends. (My husband is with me so I am not missing him!). I miss my garden and the woods behind my house. But I also miss my mom, my sister and brother, the ocean where I learned how to body surf, my friends that I grew up with and that “California” feeling and attitude.
Those that know me don’t deny I am a little out of place in the mid-west. Although it is my home, there are times I may seem a little out of sync. (You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl.) I’ve never tried to change my attitude or spirit. I guess for that very reason, it’s very easy to be living a life with one foot in each location. When I am home in Ohio, I live that life fully. When I come back home to California, I don’t miss a step.
It has taken me awhile to discover the reason why I am able to live two lives without becoming schizophrenic: I am at peace with myself. I am happy living and “just being” wherever I am planted. There is no doubt I am currently in one of the most beautiful places in the world. And I believe because of the gift that I am learning everyday - the gift of learning to love every waking minute and living for the “now” - I am able to soak up the wonderfulness and uniqueness of each location with relish, and not regret time away from either home.
Soon I will be back in Ohio, my time spent here fading like my tan. And instead of dwelling on not being here, and obsessing about planning my next trip, I will instead take a deep breath and appreciate the sights and smells of my current home. I will reflect upon my seashells and lounge in my beach-themed screened-in porch. I will choose not to be homesick; instead I will savor the memories of the ocean, while soak up the smells of pine, fresh mowed grass and smoke from the bonfire in our backyard. Instead of missing the view of the ocean, I will delight in the sight of the luscious woods behind our house, that house the bright red Cardinals and the furry-tailed squirrels. I will smile as I hear the dogs bark, the grandkids shout and my friends and family laughing and joking. Home is where the heart is. And I’ve decided it’s ok to share my heart with two different homes…and to not dwell where I can’t be - but instead to appreciate where I am.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Elusive....Morels
They are elusive. Apparently they are delicious. And the one time I found them in the store they were $20 for about ¼ pound of them. I’m talking about Morel mushrooms.
“They are so yummy,” said a friend of mine. “Just go hunt some yourself – it’s totally worth the effort. I went yesterday and found a bunch.”
“Ok, but where?” I asked. I was a mushroom-hunting virgin - seeing as how we didn’t have this sport where I grew up in California.
“Here, I’ll show you.” And he brought out a map. “Right here.”
“Ummm, that’s a giant forest. Exactly where?””
“Are you kidding? I can’t tell you that. That is sacred information. You know how much those babies go for? And when you sauté them in butter – oh it’s beyond words. Look in the woods behind your house. There’s a good chance you could find some there.”
So that is what we did this afternoon. We went mushroom hunting. I was dressed from head to toe in long sleeves and long pants with long socks – looking not only for mushrooms but also the ever popular “leaves of three – let them be”. If there is poison ivy anywhere near me, it will find me, jump out, rub itself all over me and leave a rash in its’ wake. (Now I wouldn’t mind if say, Steven Tyler did that - but if I can skip the poison ivy - the world is a better place.)
“You have to move very slowly and concentrate,” said my husband. Normally an obvious statement like that would irritate me. But my husband compares me to a 12 year old boy standing at the open refrigerator looking at a milk carton while yelling, “Mom, where’s the milk?” So I didn’t take offense. I could see where my A.D.D. could possibly kick in while doing the tedious job of looking for tiny brownish, tan fungus. I know, it was my idea – so I tried not to complain.
“Stay on the trail and look – there is less poison ivy there.” Fine. Boring, but fine. So Lucy and I set off on our own adventure. We saw a lot of cool things: A black non-poisonous (I hoped) snake, a black with a green stripe down it’s back (questionable on the poisonous part) snake, an orange bird with a black belly, clam and oyster shells from a millennium gone by, a very cool pine cone fossil (that from a distance I swear looked like a Morel – my heart starting beating faster, dang it), some beautiful wild flowers, some neat fish swimming in the stream near the waterfall, a Bud Light can (and don’t get me started on that very touchy subject), some early-bird mosquitoes, some lovely fern, and droppings that I swear could be from a Mountain Lion though I’m told they are not indigenous to these parts. But no Morels.
My husband caught up with us by the stream. I was throwing sticks into the water and Lucy was retrieving them.
“Looking pretty hard, I see,” he smugly commented. I noticed his bag was just as empty as mine.
“Just taking a break. Any luck?”
“Nope. Nada.”
“Oh well, it’s after 5 O’clock and I hear a glass of wine calling from the back deck. Ready to call it quits?”
Thankfully I didn’t have to twist his arm. We collected the muddy dogs, took some great shots of the stream, waterfall and glorious sun (lately as elusive as the Morels) with our camera and headed back to the homestead. Empty handed – no Morels. Thankfully, as far as I know anyway, no poison ivy either.
“They are so yummy,” said a friend of mine. “Just go hunt some yourself – it’s totally worth the effort. I went yesterday and found a bunch.”
“Ok, but where?” I asked. I was a mushroom-hunting virgin - seeing as how we didn’t have this sport where I grew up in California.
“Here, I’ll show you.” And he brought out a map. “Right here.”
“Ummm, that’s a giant forest. Exactly where?””
“Are you kidding? I can’t tell you that. That is sacred information. You know how much those babies go for? And when you sauté them in butter – oh it’s beyond words. Look in the woods behind your house. There’s a good chance you could find some there.”
So that is what we did this afternoon. We went mushroom hunting. I was dressed from head to toe in long sleeves and long pants with long socks – looking not only for mushrooms but also the ever popular “leaves of three – let them be”. If there is poison ivy anywhere near me, it will find me, jump out, rub itself all over me and leave a rash in its’ wake. (Now I wouldn’t mind if say, Steven Tyler did that - but if I can skip the poison ivy - the world is a better place.)
“You have to move very slowly and concentrate,” said my husband. Normally an obvious statement like that would irritate me. But my husband compares me to a 12 year old boy standing at the open refrigerator looking at a milk carton while yelling, “Mom, where’s the milk?” So I didn’t take offense. I could see where my A.D.D. could possibly kick in while doing the tedious job of looking for tiny brownish, tan fungus. I know, it was my idea – so I tried not to complain.
“Stay on the trail and look – there is less poison ivy there.” Fine. Boring, but fine. So Lucy and I set off on our own adventure. We saw a lot of cool things: A black non-poisonous (I hoped) snake, a black with a green stripe down it’s back (questionable on the poisonous part) snake, an orange bird with a black belly, clam and oyster shells from a millennium gone by, a very cool pine cone fossil (that from a distance I swear looked like a Morel – my heart starting beating faster, dang it), some beautiful wild flowers, some neat fish swimming in the stream near the waterfall, a Bud Light can (and don’t get me started on that very touchy subject), some early-bird mosquitoes, some lovely fern, and droppings that I swear could be from a Mountain Lion though I’m told they are not indigenous to these parts. But no Morels.
My husband caught up with us by the stream. I was throwing sticks into the water and Lucy was retrieving them.
“Looking pretty hard, I see,” he smugly commented. I noticed his bag was just as empty as mine.
“Just taking a break. Any luck?”
“Nope. Nada.”
“Oh well, it’s after 5 O’clock and I hear a glass of wine calling from the back deck. Ready to call it quits?”
Thankfully I didn’t have to twist his arm. We collected the muddy dogs, took some great shots of the stream, waterfall and glorious sun (lately as elusive as the Morels) with our camera and headed back to the homestead. Empty handed – no Morels. Thankfully, as far as I know anyway, no poison ivy either.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Living with "I Love Karen"
“I think I’d like to go camping for my birthday”. “Hello? Shoot did I lose a signal again?” I was talking to my husband on my way home from work.
“No, I’m still here.”
“Then why aren’t you answering me?”
“Because I don’t know what to say – again.”
My husband, bless his heart, is the All-American Ricky Ricardo. He’s handsome. He can sing. He could play the bongos if he tried. And he’s married to a blonde “I Love Lucy”.
“I want to wake up in nature!” I exclaimed, getting caught up in the potential of my make-believe world. “I want to smell the coffee and bacon cooking on the campfire. I want to gaze at the stars and watch the birds and wildflowers.”
“We can do that from our back deck. With comfortable chairs and a nice glass of wine.”
“You are missing the point,” I said, exasperated. “Think what an adventure it would be.”
“It’s a daily adventure right here with you. I don’t think can stand anymore adventure. We have plenty.”
“But we have the gear! The tent, the sleeping bags, the air mattress, the portable stove…”
He cut me off. “The tent was loaned out 10 years ago and never returned. The mice in the garage decided they not only wanted to sleep in our sleeping bags, but that they tasted pretty good too. And one of the kids borrowed the portable stove for their apartment and I think it caught on fire. We have no “gear”. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
Just like Ricky, he could see the wheels turning in my head. I must get some kind of look or smile, because I swear he knows when I am trying to conjure up a harebrained idea.
“Karen…don’t do it.” (This said with a fake Hispanic accent. He thinks he’s funny.)
“Oh don’t worry honey. It’ll be ok. I’ll see you at home. In about an hour or two. I have a couple stops on the way”
“Seriously, Karen. What have you got up your sleeve? You have some ‘splainin to do.” (Did I mention he thinks he’s funny?)
“There is a sale at the sporting goods store and…”
“Do me a favor. Let me plan your birthday. I will handle the whole thing. And you will love it. I promise.”
Darn. How could I refuse that? I gave in. And the next day he presented me with his plans. It was a compromise, he told me.
“I’ve rented us a room for a few nights at a romantic bed and breakfast. It’s way out in the country. Lots of hiking trails. You can wake up to the sound of birds and the smell of coffee and bacon. You don’t have to blow up an air mattress. You can take a shower every day. And they will make your bed.”
Wow. He drives a hard bargain. How could I refuse? I hugged him and told him he was the most wonderful husband in the world. And as he walked away, a smug smile on his face, I could swear he was singing “Babaloo”.
Now we just have to find out if Fred and Ethyl can watch the dogs while we are gone.
“No, I’m still here.”
“Then why aren’t you answering me?”
“Because I don’t know what to say – again.”
My husband, bless his heart, is the All-American Ricky Ricardo. He’s handsome. He can sing. He could play the bongos if he tried. And he’s married to a blonde “I Love Lucy”.
“I want to wake up in nature!” I exclaimed, getting caught up in the potential of my make-believe world. “I want to smell the coffee and bacon cooking on the campfire. I want to gaze at the stars and watch the birds and wildflowers.”
“We can do that from our back deck. With comfortable chairs and a nice glass of wine.”
“You are missing the point,” I said, exasperated. “Think what an adventure it would be.”
“It’s a daily adventure right here with you. I don’t think can stand anymore adventure. We have plenty.”
“But we have the gear! The tent, the sleeping bags, the air mattress, the portable stove…”
He cut me off. “The tent was loaned out 10 years ago and never returned. The mice in the garage decided they not only wanted to sleep in our sleeping bags, but that they tasted pretty good too. And one of the kids borrowed the portable stove for their apartment and I think it caught on fire. We have no “gear”. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
Just like Ricky, he could see the wheels turning in my head. I must get some kind of look or smile, because I swear he knows when I am trying to conjure up a harebrained idea.
“Karen…don’t do it.” (This said with a fake Hispanic accent. He thinks he’s funny.)
“Oh don’t worry honey. It’ll be ok. I’ll see you at home. In about an hour or two. I have a couple stops on the way”
“Seriously, Karen. What have you got up your sleeve? You have some ‘splainin to do.” (Did I mention he thinks he’s funny?)
“There is a sale at the sporting goods store and…”
“Do me a favor. Let me plan your birthday. I will handle the whole thing. And you will love it. I promise.”
Darn. How could I refuse that? I gave in. And the next day he presented me with his plans. It was a compromise, he told me.
“I’ve rented us a room for a few nights at a romantic bed and breakfast. It’s way out in the country. Lots of hiking trails. You can wake up to the sound of birds and the smell of coffee and bacon. You don’t have to blow up an air mattress. You can take a shower every day. And they will make your bed.”
Wow. He drives a hard bargain. How could I refuse? I hugged him and told him he was the most wonderful husband in the world. And as he walked away, a smug smile on his face, I could swear he was singing “Babaloo”.
Now we just have to find out if Fred and Ethyl can watch the dogs while we are gone.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
A Letter From Charlie (the Dog)
Dear Aunt Nan:
My mom is making me write this. She said I have to apologize for peeing on your carpet. Twice. She said I have to buy you a bottle of Nature’s Miracle out of my next allowance…instead of the chew toy I wanted. I guess that’s ok, since I have an extra toy my granny gave me for Christmas.
Your carpet almost feels like grass – and I mean that in a good way. Mom doesn’t realize I was just testing it out….I didn’t mean to make a mess, honest.
My mom also said that next time I want to play with Cheyenne that she has to come to my house to play, since I am on restriction from going to your house. I don’t know what restriction means, but my mom was pretty serious when she said it. She also said that maybe this summer you would let me come over if I stay outside, and I said that would really be wonderful. I like your outside grass better, anyway.
Did you see the picture my mom showed you when we were there? My mom said that dog is what I am supposed to look like, but there was some kind of genetic mix up at the lab. Not sure what that means but she says she loves me anyway – and I DO know what that means. I don’t know if she told you, but we just found out I have some kind of lung condition. My lungs are quite scarred and it’s hard for me to breathe at times. The doctor said this could affect my quality of life. I don’t know why they are worried, since my life is grand and the quality could not be any better! (Did I mention the pills taste like yummy liver?)
Anyway, I am very sorry and am sending you many kisses. (Even though at times I’ve been told I may give too many. How can a dog give too many kisses?)
Don’t forget I love you. I have to go now, ‘cause my mom says I have to do my homework on account I have to go to special needs doggy school tomorrow, and the short bus comes very early.
Lots of licks, and a high five too,
Charlie
PS: My daddy just got home and said I didn’t have nice manners. I am not sure what that means, but I don’t think he’s happy either. I will charm him by dancing around him and showing him how much I love him. Remind me to show you that trick next time, ok?
My mom is making me write this. She said I have to apologize for peeing on your carpet. Twice. She said I have to buy you a bottle of Nature’s Miracle out of my next allowance…instead of the chew toy I wanted. I guess that’s ok, since I have an extra toy my granny gave me for Christmas.
Your carpet almost feels like grass – and I mean that in a good way. Mom doesn’t realize I was just testing it out….I didn’t mean to make a mess, honest.
My mom also said that next time I want to play with Cheyenne that she has to come to my house to play, since I am on restriction from going to your house. I don’t know what restriction means, but my mom was pretty serious when she said it. She also said that maybe this summer you would let me come over if I stay outside, and I said that would really be wonderful. I like your outside grass better, anyway.
Did you see the picture my mom showed you when we were there? My mom said that dog is what I am supposed to look like, but there was some kind of genetic mix up at the lab. Not sure what that means but she says she loves me anyway – and I DO know what that means. I don’t know if she told you, but we just found out I have some kind of lung condition. My lungs are quite scarred and it’s hard for me to breathe at times. The doctor said this could affect my quality of life. I don’t know why they are worried, since my life is grand and the quality could not be any better! (Did I mention the pills taste like yummy liver?)
Anyway, I am very sorry and am sending you many kisses. (Even though at times I’ve been told I may give too many. How can a dog give too many kisses?)
Don’t forget I love you. I have to go now, ‘cause my mom says I have to do my homework on account I have to go to special needs doggy school tomorrow, and the short bus comes very early.
Lots of licks, and a high five too,
Charlie
PS: My daddy just got home and said I didn’t have nice manners. I am not sure what that means, but I don’t think he’s happy either. I will charm him by dancing around him and showing him how much I love him. Remind me to show you that trick next time, ok?
Friday, March 18, 2011
Menapausal Mother Nature
It happens to the best of us. After a certain age, I guess it is inevitable in some way, shape or form. Some people get red sports cars, others, a Harley. Some get new hairstyles, a new wardrobe or grow a beard. The beard part, on men, can look pretty good. On women, not so much. I am speaking, of course, about mid-life.
I have noticed this year that it appears Mother Nature herself is going through her own mid-life crisis. Or maybe it’s menopause. Regardless, she’s acting more psycho than normal.
Kind of ironic, since Mother Nature did have a hand in “inventing” mid-life. Now it seems she’s getting a taste of her own medicine. Unfortunately, just like an unsuspecting spouse, we Ohioans are experiencing the change of life right along with her.
I guess it’s her moods swings that are affecting me the most. One minute she’s sunny and happy, the next she’s gloomy and cold. She can’t make up her mind at all. Snow one minute, rain the next – and some ice and frost thrown in for fun. I am not sure if she enjoys watching us go from down parkas to t-shirts and back again in the course of 3 hours, but at times I sense a hint of humor in the air…possibly a touch of smirk when I look at the sky. Other times her changes can make my head spin, and therefore it leads me to believe she’s just as mystified by the sudden change as I am.
We humans aren’t the only ones this Mother Nature mid-life crisis is torturing. The poor birds don’t know whether to feather their nests or to grab the next flight back to the south. The geese are circling overhead, not sure to land or keep on going. In bird circles, Ohio is the most gossiped about area. Used to be all they chatted about was which house has the best bird feeders; now, it’s whether or not to bi-pass Ohio and head straight for Michigan.
The squirrels are starting to look less fat and furry, and it’s sad to see them shivering out in the cold, cursing the fact that they already sent their winter coats to the animal Goodwill. Even my dogs are getting a little tired of the “sweater on – sweater off – sweater back on” ritual.
The crocuses are trying to reverse themselves and stay buried a little longer, and the daffodils have decided they’d rather wait and come out when they know they won’t get goose bumps on their yellow petals.
Mother Nature, in your change of life form, you are channeling the Katie Perry song: “Hot N Cold”. If your goal is to drive us crazy, you are succeeding.
Now, it’s true they say mid-life can be fun. It’s a great time to learn new hobbies, find new passions, and travel. So, Mother Nature, how about you take all that menopausal frustration and put it into something productive. Like maybe a spring day that will stay that way. For a few weeks. Without snow. Just a suggestion – please don’t turn on me…I’m on your side, really. And if you want, I can give you the name of a great doctor – or wine store - here in town…your entire family will thank you for it.
I have noticed this year that it appears Mother Nature herself is going through her own mid-life crisis. Or maybe it’s menopause. Regardless, she’s acting more psycho than normal.
Kind of ironic, since Mother Nature did have a hand in “inventing” mid-life. Now it seems she’s getting a taste of her own medicine. Unfortunately, just like an unsuspecting spouse, we Ohioans are experiencing the change of life right along with her.
I guess it’s her moods swings that are affecting me the most. One minute she’s sunny and happy, the next she’s gloomy and cold. She can’t make up her mind at all. Snow one minute, rain the next – and some ice and frost thrown in for fun. I am not sure if she enjoys watching us go from down parkas to t-shirts and back again in the course of 3 hours, but at times I sense a hint of humor in the air…possibly a touch of smirk when I look at the sky. Other times her changes can make my head spin, and therefore it leads me to believe she’s just as mystified by the sudden change as I am.
We humans aren’t the only ones this Mother Nature mid-life crisis is torturing. The poor birds don’t know whether to feather their nests or to grab the next flight back to the south. The geese are circling overhead, not sure to land or keep on going. In bird circles, Ohio is the most gossiped about area. Used to be all they chatted about was which house has the best bird feeders; now, it’s whether or not to bi-pass Ohio and head straight for Michigan.
The squirrels are starting to look less fat and furry, and it’s sad to see them shivering out in the cold, cursing the fact that they already sent their winter coats to the animal Goodwill. Even my dogs are getting a little tired of the “sweater on – sweater off – sweater back on” ritual.
The crocuses are trying to reverse themselves and stay buried a little longer, and the daffodils have decided they’d rather wait and come out when they know they won’t get goose bumps on their yellow petals.
Mother Nature, in your change of life form, you are channeling the Katie Perry song: “Hot N Cold”. If your goal is to drive us crazy, you are succeeding.
Now, it’s true they say mid-life can be fun. It’s a great time to learn new hobbies, find new passions, and travel. So, Mother Nature, how about you take all that menopausal frustration and put it into something productive. Like maybe a spring day that will stay that way. For a few weeks. Without snow. Just a suggestion – please don’t turn on me…I’m on your side, really. And if you want, I can give you the name of a great doctor – or wine store - here in town…your entire family will thank you for it.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
A new me, instead of new jeans....Welcome to a healthy living! It's fun and refreshing and feels wonderful!
So, call me crazy, but instead of buying a pair of $100 jeans guaranteed to make me look thinner, I actually decided to become thinner!
This of course requires discipline, planning and moderation. Three things that really are not my strong points. I realize that if I sincerely want to make this happen, I have to make this a lifestyle change and not a diet. Nope – I am not using – nor will I ever – use the “D” word again. This new way of eating is a choice. It’s not a punishment (although to hear me complain at times, one would think I am being tortured!).
So, before I go any further, I’d like to give a shout out to some of my new friends: organic baby carrots, oranges and broccoli. Yup, you read correctly. I know, amazing, isn’t it? The girl that literally drools whenever someone mentions the words sourdough bread, chocolate and red wine. They too are my friends and always will be – I just won’t be seeing them as much anymore.
Since I am planning on living to be a very healthy and spry 100 (or more), I decided I’d better get on the bandwagon and take care of this body. The no-no’s - mainly sugar, salt, caffeine, alcohol and bread – were calling me from afar the first few days. I know, what else is there, right?
Well, once I got past the initial shock and caffeine headaches, my body started waking up! I now have more energy, I sleep well and the brain fog is lifting. And better yet, the jeans are getting a little bigger, too!
I am not an exercise person – seriously. But I now enjoy my wii dance moves even more and Yoga seems easier. Simple stuff like parking farther away (unless it’s raining, I mean I do have limitations) in a parking lot and walking the dogs more often now seem fun.
Water is now my best friend. Simple, plain, clear water. Not mixed with anything if you get my drift. I treat myself to soda water in a beautiful glass with a lemon. I carry around a huge jug of my daily requirements. I challenge myself to drink the max and maybe even more. I have made peace with the fact that the restroom and I will be on closer terms.
The best part? I really, truly do enjoy eating the freshly made and flavorful meals. Sure it’s a little more work – shopping, chopping, cutting. But I’m getting creative. I’ve made up recipes and use spices I’ve never bothered with before. Shopping has become an adventure in itself…buying fresh organic foods, healthy organic meats and eggs and delicious fruits and berries.
My habits have changed. I now grab for a sweet carrot instead of something with sugar. Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve not gone CRAZY! I will still partake in some yummy chocolate or a glass of Cabernet. (Or both together!) I will still eat my new found love – bacon. I will still savor warm sour dough bread with freshly made Amish butter. But when I do, I will only have a little. And it will be the best wine/chocolate/bacon/bread I’ve ever tasted!
Fifty (one) is the new 40. Well, actually younger than that! I have new granddaughters to keep up with and dreams and plans (yes, the ol’ bucket list) to accomplish. The easiest way to do that is get this body healthy and running like it was intended to. So bring on the fresh veggies! All I can say is it’s a good thing wine gets better with age – I sure don’t want to waste any of the bottles I have!
This of course requires discipline, planning and moderation. Three things that really are not my strong points. I realize that if I sincerely want to make this happen, I have to make this a lifestyle change and not a diet. Nope – I am not using – nor will I ever – use the “D” word again. This new way of eating is a choice. It’s not a punishment (although to hear me complain at times, one would think I am being tortured!).
So, before I go any further, I’d like to give a shout out to some of my new friends: organic baby carrots, oranges and broccoli. Yup, you read correctly. I know, amazing, isn’t it? The girl that literally drools whenever someone mentions the words sourdough bread, chocolate and red wine. They too are my friends and always will be – I just won’t be seeing them as much anymore.
Since I am planning on living to be a very healthy and spry 100 (or more), I decided I’d better get on the bandwagon and take care of this body. The no-no’s - mainly sugar, salt, caffeine, alcohol and bread – were calling me from afar the first few days. I know, what else is there, right?
Well, once I got past the initial shock and caffeine headaches, my body started waking up! I now have more energy, I sleep well and the brain fog is lifting. And better yet, the jeans are getting a little bigger, too!
I am not an exercise person – seriously. But I now enjoy my wii dance moves even more and Yoga seems easier. Simple stuff like parking farther away (unless it’s raining, I mean I do have limitations) in a parking lot and walking the dogs more often now seem fun.
Water is now my best friend. Simple, plain, clear water. Not mixed with anything if you get my drift. I treat myself to soda water in a beautiful glass with a lemon. I carry around a huge jug of my daily requirements. I challenge myself to drink the max and maybe even more. I have made peace with the fact that the restroom and I will be on closer terms.
The best part? I really, truly do enjoy eating the freshly made and flavorful meals. Sure it’s a little more work – shopping, chopping, cutting. But I’m getting creative. I’ve made up recipes and use spices I’ve never bothered with before. Shopping has become an adventure in itself…buying fresh organic foods, healthy organic meats and eggs and delicious fruits and berries.
My habits have changed. I now grab for a sweet carrot instead of something with sugar. Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve not gone CRAZY! I will still partake in some yummy chocolate or a glass of Cabernet. (Or both together!) I will still eat my new found love – bacon. I will still savor warm sour dough bread with freshly made Amish butter. But when I do, I will only have a little. And it will be the best wine/chocolate/bacon/bread I’ve ever tasted!
Fifty (one) is the new 40. Well, actually younger than that! I have new granddaughters to keep up with and dreams and plans (yes, the ol’ bucket list) to accomplish. The easiest way to do that is get this body healthy and running like it was intended to. So bring on the fresh veggies! All I can say is it’s a good thing wine gets better with age – I sure don’t want to waste any of the bottles I have!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
