I am the grouchy lady standing behind the young father in Williams Sonoma telling his sticky-fingered five-year-old: “No touch, please.” The darling is pulling large pots off the shelf, squealing in delight as they clatter to the floor in all their copper finery. In my day, we didn’t beg our kids not to destroy merchandise in high-end stores. We tied their hands to their strollers, gave them the stink-eye, and hissed: “Don’t make me have to talk to you.” They didn’t have a chance. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
Continue reading “In My Day”
While we’re looking for potions and pomades to keep us looking young, what are we doing for our wrinkly insides? Is it possible that the bumps and bruises of our external selves are really reflections of what’s going on within?
Continue reading “Inside Out”
Out with the old, in with the new. New year, new goals, perhaps. What does this look like to you? For each of us, it means different things, but what we all seem to have in common is a desire to make 2018 better than 2017. Exactly what is it we’d like to improve? Politics, the economy, relationships, jobs…the list is endless. There are so many opportunities for change, aren’t there?
Continue reading “A New Attitude, A New You”
Short of becoming a mature version of the fed-up ladies in A Bad Mom’s Christmas or even a female Grinch, there are many ways a geezer goddess can survive the holidays. Years of brainwashing have set us up to be exhausted and frazzled when December 25 finally arrives. There is another way.
My gift to geezer goddesses everywhere is my Christmas list, my wish for you and the end of the scourge of unrealistic expectations.
Continue reading “A Geezer Goddess Guide to Survive the Holidays: Save Yourself”
I recently returned from a family reunion. Such a daunting experience. Photos from decades ago flashed on a 65-inch screen while friends and family dabbed their eyes in fond memory. Loved ones turned to me and said: “You were so beautiful back then.” What is the right response? Thank you for noticing that Mother Nature has ravaged me or At least I’m not dead yet? I doubt that any retort is apt, and so, like any other public angst, I grinned til it was over. The slide show, that is. I still gotta a lotta living left. No matter what those people said about me.
The reality is I’m a senior citizen. The world thinks my job consists of trekking to countless doctors’ appointments and draining the Social Security trust. I may say things like “Age is just a number” or “You’re only as old as you feel” but I will admit that I’m not happy that the hands that drum to Bohemian Rhapsody on my steering wheel sometimes look like my grandmother’s. And, while my mother is an example of graceful aging, I sure don’t want my reflection in the mirror to be a dead ringer for her.
Continue reading “Geezer Goddess: Parts Unknown”
Swimming is my meditation. Strokes forward, head underwater, gazing at the aqua world that surrounds me. Rhythm in my moves, remotely connected to the world around me, aware that people are nearby yet not engaged with them. It’s an activity in which no one expects me to do anything except move forward and back, one end of the pool to the other. All sense of time falls by the wayside as my body settles into a pattern of movement designed to stretch and release all tension and anxiety. It’s life at its best. A blue gem shimmering in the morning light, sunlight streaming through the blue azure sky and white cotton ball clouds.
Continue reading “Goggle Wisdom”
Despite what the numbers might say on my birth certificate, the Grim Reaper was not invited to my birthday party. I’m sure he thinks that 65 candles are a fire hazard way beyond my lung capacity. What he didn’t know was that I’d been training for this Medicare showdown since I turned 60.
The last time I passed that milestone birthday, I decided that, I’d get awesome, not old. Having wasted most of my life learning how to be a grownup, I wondered how one becomes awesome.
My answer was to create my 60+ year old self into an improved version of me. I would go toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye against aging. It was going to take all my body parts working together to tame this thing. Turning back the clock may not be possible, but slowing down its forward movement was doable.
Fitness magazines touted exercise as a possibility toward graceful aging. As if on cue, Melanie, my 25-year old daughter-in-law, invited me to hot yoga.
Continue reading “Crunching Numbers”