Old Age Day by Day July 30, 2010

We're going up to the cabin today for a long weekend, where we will struggle between doing all the chores that need doing or sitting on the deck in a coma. Usually, the deck thing wins. We're both pretty lazy. But we've been saying we'd get new beds for a year now, so we might just have to break down and do it. The beds are at least fifty, sixty years old. There are the broken spring, iron headboard simulated boat in a storm beds, and the beds with tucking and rock hard underpads, as well as the bed that even if you hold on with both hands you slide into the middle and sink like the Titanic.

The two sofas in the cabin are more comfortable than the beds, even if I have to fight with the dogs to get a space.

And we've sworn to repaint our mint green kitchen in a color that doesn't cause massive nausea when you're trying to cook. Red, blue, maybe something primary. Just not the shade closest to vomit.

There are many, many other projects, but since we seem to enjoy discussing them much better than executing them, I wouldn't bet on anything getting done. If there is a white headed woodpecker around, I'll be too busy watching him to get up.

Old Age Day by Day July 29, 2010

Yesterday my girlfriend and I had lunch and then sat out on a bench in front of our local grocery store and chatted for half an hour more. The topic was physical ailments and covered sciatica, hip aches, lower back strength (lack of it), shoulder pains, etc. As we parted I laughed, "we're certifiably geezers now". We were having such a great time comparing and complaining. Someone could have blackmailed me easily with a tape of our conversation. How the mighty have fallen!

At least now comparison seems comforting. In the old days, this same friend and I would be doing low impact aeorbics in a gym and staring at our bodies in the mirror and wishing we were shorter, taller, leggier, curvier, thinner. Now we're in the boat together bobbing out to sea, and we're just grateful to still be in the boat and not in Davy Jones' locker.

When I was walking back from that encounter, another friend stopped in her car and I told her I was on my way to have some strange growth cut out of the inside of my cheek and she said her brother had had that done. I felt so relieved! It was just normal hideous aging thing, and I would survive. When the doctor later confirmed that, yes, it would have to be cut off, but no, it was no big deal, I was prepared for the happy news. Misery loves company, or at least a fellow traveler on the journey.

So, yes, we old people are ridiculous, but we embrace it, and our "stories" get us through the rough patches of aging, and give us a few laughs along the way.

Old Age Day by Day July 28, 2010

I'm sitting here trying to come up with a topic, and my dog is rustling through the paper in the trash basket. He evidently finds paper, dixie cups and IRS checks to be delicacies. At least his current proclivities are preferable to eating socks (at one point in a two day period 5 socks passed through his system, five whole socks), rocks, acorns and plastic. Now the paper fetish and eating tiny green apples and persimmons seems downright benign.

Not that I can claim immunity. I embibe entirely too many diet cokes, baked potato chips, and occasional fried foods to feel I am a purist. But I have learned to not eat sugar, red meat and processed foods. Of course, it took me until my late fifties to wise up, and also acute pressure from my doctor. From that point of view, my almost six year old dog is downright precocious.

And right now, he and his aunt, my other dog, are out in the cool morning, lying on the damp, soft earth, listening for birds, looking for squirrels, and making absolutely no judgments about the weather, or how long I'll be inside at the computer, or what the day brings them. They are peaceful and relaxed, taking in whatever is so.

Old Age Day by Day July 27, 2010

The weather was dreary yesterday and so far this morning. I sink a little without the sunshine, which means I'm very, very spoiled. My husband and I went to a matinee with our younger daughter and her boyfriend yesterday afternoon, and it could have been taken from Shakespeare, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing". It was fine, as all we wanted was to be entertained, and without the stupid 3D, thank you very much. But the theme was memory, and I was struck by how the movie's vision of memory was that people remember and re-remember exactly the same each time. The hero stores his memories and trots them out to comfort or torture himself, but the flashback scenes remain the same.

This is not my experience of memory. Memories alter, both from aging or gaining other perspectives and also by the tricks the mind plays on us. Our very inventive minds create false memories, or alter and eliminate certain details. And new knowledge and experience may makes us "see" the memory in a new way. We finally get it that the two year old's rage at Mommy cutting her hair is wanting control over our own bodies and image, not necessarily that our mother was trying to torture us with a bad haircut. She wanted the bangs out of our eyes, we wanted to look like a fairy princess.

But the silver screen seldom gives us authentic experience, and it won't be found in a summer blockbuster, it will arrive in the package of a film with subtitles or an independent film that was made for a pittance, but with a hell of a script. Those films generally arrive in the fall, and for now, I'm okay with biting my nails and laughing in astonishment when the road moves up perpendicular to the hero, and he blithely walks up at a right angle.

Old Age Day by Day July 26, 2010

I'm back! Like Jack Nickelson in "The Shining", a movie I have only seen brief clips of because I'm a scaredy cat.

The retreat was sublime. I dropped deeply with the silence and sitting and walking meditation, and the topic, Appreciation and Gratitude, was wonderful for me. I was able to notice a lot of my patterns and reactivity and open up and be present much of the retreat. That, despite an aching right hip that required Tylenol and some gentle, kindly care of myself. I love the silence, which allows me to sweep aside the debris and see more clearly the state of my mind and heart. I feel I learned so much.

My teacher has three dogs and there was a fourth dog at the retreat as well, and observing their behavior was pretty illuminating as well. One night I had a dream that the one dog, my favorite, and I were sitting in chairs Frost-Nixon style and I was interviewing her. She confided in me that she didn't like her name, she wanted to be called "Delores". Just call me the dog dream whisperer.

I loved being on retreat and I love being back here. I am so grateful for my life right now. I hope not to lose sight of this life I've been given.

Old Age Day by Day July 14, 2010

Well, today I go on retreat. Me and the other Indians. Just kidding. I'm looking forward to it. Last night I was thinking of all the wildflowers my relative and I saw up at the cabin. Yarrow, yellow iris, fireweed, lupine, vetch, shooting stars, solomon's seal, queen anne's lace, columbine, and others. I was looking for pussypaws, one of my favorites, but maybe it's too late in the season. But there is an abundance of wildflowers, due to the great rains and snows. The river is thundering down to meet the lake, which is the highest I've ever seen it. It's been so dry in the forest for so long, yet it takes only one good year to have the earth blossoming happily and showering beauty all around.

Forests don't bear a grudge. They appreciate. I want to try to remember that as I sit and walk and watch the stars at night from my sleeping bag.

Old Age Day by Day July 13, 2010

I got back from the cabin last night and have a day and a half to get ready for my retreat. The visit with the relative from Ireland was wonderful. She and I had a great time up at the cabin playing scrabble on the deck, hiking around the lake, fighting off the mosquitos. She's the same combination of outdoor walker and indoor reader that I am, and we come to total agreement about how our time is spent with great ease. I took her to a gold rush town, and we had fun reading up on the history and were both thrilled to discover High Noon had been filmed there. It was dusty and hot, which was the perfect cowboy atmosphere. She even had a sasparilla with her lunch to stay in the mood. When we returned to the cabin we each read our copy of the history of the town and discussed the plight of women during the time.

Now, if I can just find my sleeping bag, special flashlight, and retreat clothes (formerly yoga clothes) I'll be set for another dusty, hot adventure, but this time in total silence. What a lucky gal I am!