Marriage Game Plan

Day one of marriage - you start with all your worldly belongings.  For me, that would be my clothes, a twin bed, a dresser and a yellow, vinyl bean bag chair.  In the olden days, that wouldn't even translate into one goat.  Luckily, he checked my teeth and they were good.

Duties - you share everything.  The grocery shopping, the cleaning, the laundry.  "What do you want to buy for dinner, darling?"  "Whatever you want, sweetie."  Life was grand.  Eventually you split chores.  It's really a matter of saving time.  This way, you have more quality time during those few hours each night after work. 

Then came the house.  Houses are good investments; they are great to come home to; they are the black hole of time, energy and money.  Now duties were divided out of necessity.  We didn't care who did what, but obviously one person couldn't do it all.  I was a fortunate wife in that my husband was a whiz at doing anything and everything.  Cooking?  No problem, he was like Chef Gordon Ramsey.  Yardwork?  Piece of cake.  Finish the basement?  Who needs to hire out when you're married to Bob Vila?

He, on the other hand, did not marry Martha Stewart.  Hem pants?  Hello, there's the tailor.  Prepare a gourmet dinner?  You mean fish sticks and canned peaches aren't considered fine dining?  Ironing was, and still is, my nemesis.  I knew I was in trouble at the beginning when he wanted his socks ironed.  "Your socks ironed? Are you kidding me?"  The first half is hidden under your trousers, part is hidden in the shoe, the rest is about a one inch strip around your ankle so if there any wrinkles, they're stretched like Joan Rivers facelift so wrinkles won't show.  Yeah, the honeymoon was over.

You learn each other's moods, facial expressions, eye tics and throbbing veins on the side of the neck.  These are vital clues to know when to spring the news about how the dog chewed the carpet, that new outfit you bought, your mother is coming for the weekend.

Oh, life can get a little too routine sometimes, but it's sad to see so many throw in the towel before they review the game book.  Eventually, when everyone finds their position on the team and learns the moves, that winning goal is worth the effort.

Tattoo Tea Totaler

Why are tattoos so popular? It was tough people who had them; motorcycle guys, sailors. I'm glad that trend was after my time because you always want to do what's in fashion and I can't imagine what I'd look like now. Let's see, what was popular when I was younger? The smiley face, the peace symbol, phrases like "keep on truckin," and "I can't believe I ate the whole thing." The weight of my triceps pulling down from the biceps would have turned my smiley face into a frown by now and everyone could see that I truly did eat the whole thing. Can you imagine the effects of cellulose? If I had the face of Mork on my thigh, he would look pock marked.

What would you choose that you are so committed to that you want to look at for the rest of your life? Woman are known for their proclivity to change. My husband always wants to buy me Coach purses because you can carry them forever. Who wants to carry the same purse forever? Would I have chosen a person or a phrase on my shoulder? A poignant quote on my neck or a cute cartoon figure on my ankle? You'd be forced to shave or tweety bird would look like he grew a beard. That's the only beauty of winter is that you can wear slacks and not shave for three months.

And wrinkles? Laverne and Shirley's faces would age along with me. Not to mention stretch marks from pregnancy, mid-life weight gain, surgery scars. My billboard of beauty would start looking like a battlefield of blemishes.

Not to say I haven't been tempted. Once on a trip with my best friend, I wanted to commemorate the occasion by getting tattoos. She's like, "can't we just get our photograph taken?" Luckily, I gravitate to people who keep me steady. I still think it would be cute to have something fun tattooed just for the heck of it, but even at fifty, I still can't think what it would be. I suppose something simple like a heart right above the bikini line, but like the Grinch, my small heart, after a holiday meal, would grow three sizes that day.

Bucket List

Everyone needs a bucket list. It may be difficult to get started, but you can crawl out of that bucket seat. Did you know the definition of a bucket seat is to keep people in place? Aren't you tired of staying in the same place? Get your seat out of that bucket and write down your dreams. That first dream will be just a drop in the bucket. Gather your friends to create a bucket brigade of support all before you kick the bucket. The song says "there's a hole in the bucket," so buck the system before the water runs out. This is not to be morose like you're waiting to die; it is meant to be inspiring as you finally start to live. What are you waiting for? What's stopping you from doing the things you want to do?


There are so many people who became famous or did inspiring feats later in life. Corrie ten Boom wrote, "The Hiding Place" at the age of 78. John Mahoney, father on Frasier, didn't enter the acting world until close to the age of 40. Laura Ingalls Wilder wasn't published until after the age of 65. Grandma Moses was 76 before her first painting. Ronald Reagan was 55 before being elected to his first public office. The list could go on and on. The point being, it's never too late to start. As Al Pacino said in "Scent of a Woman", "I'm just getting warmed up."

At one point I wanted to parachute. When you're young and have your whole life ahead of you, you feel invincible which can lead you to unwise decisions. As time wanes, you cling tighter and tighter to that rope of reason and have difficulty releasing those fingers. Perhaps I'll choose this feat like George Bush Sr. did and save it for my 80th birthday. I'll just keep up my calcium supplements until then so I don't break a hip on the landing.

This year my husband I went to Alaska. The picture at top is me photographing grizzlies. Other items on my list are to fly a plane, visit Africa, write a book, do stand-up comedy, learn sign language, a foreign language, play the piano, etc. While I can learn to fly a plane, that probably won't happen as my husband informed me he doesn't even like driving with me so he doubts he'll want to fly with me. The rest of my list is doable. I found a stand-up comedy class so hope to do that sometime in the near future. I recently got my passport for the very first time. When's my trip? I have no idea, but I'll be ready!

Fountain of Youth

My body seems to be aging at the speed of light. My main trouble spot is the deep, vertical crevice that runs between my eyes right above my nose. It almost looks like I was knifed in a fight. If I open my eyes really wide it sort of disappears, but then diagonal wrinkles run from east to west across my forehead. I'm thinking of using Scotch tape to tape from my temples to behind my ears, which will stretch out that area. Now if could use Scotch type for the forehead, what to do for the gluteus maximus? Something stronger perhaps, like duct tape.

Do you remember that girl from Willy Wonka that turned into a giant blueberry? At my age no one will accuse me of being pregnant, but that's what it looks like. I swear you can see my skin grow without using time-lapse photography. The Incredible Hulk probably didn't bust through as many shirts as I seem to be doing lately. One of these days, one of my buttons will bust free from that last thread and blind a passerby. The only upside of all of this is that instead of donating my husband's clothes, I just wear them. The latest article of clothing are his belts.

My hairdresser is using so many foils pieces to do my hair I'm starting to pick up radio stations in Florida. Right now my vanity outweighs my pocketbook, but there will come a day that I don't think dying the roots weekly will be healthy.

Sigh, I know eventually one must accept all of this and age gracefully. Until then I'm looking for quick fixes for improvement; and I think I've found the fountain of youth. While going into my refrigerator in the basement for a soda, I discovered the cake from Easter. It had been kept in my Tupperware container all this time and still looked edible. Michael Jackson may have had his oxygen chamber, but I'm thinking if we could have a Tupperware-encased bed with a breathing tube, we could stay fresh forever!

ADHD - Absentminded, Desperately Hoping for Direction

At 19, I asked my best friend why can't adults have ADD/ADHD? People had just started using Ritalin for their kids. Obviously, ADD or ADHD couldn't be a new phenomena so there must have been kids when we were growing up who also were affected by this. We wondered if at a certain point you just grew out of it. Think of all the children subjected to corporal punishment in school when they weren't being naughty, they were suffering from lack of focus.

Low and behold, the other day on television there was a commercial for a drug to help adults who suffered from ADD/ADHD. Crud, I should have followed up on that 30 years ago; I'd be rich! Now that I'm 50, I don't want to go to the doctor for this. Number one, I've survived 50 years, so what's another 30 or so more to put up with this? Also, people our age are at that point we have become inundated with pills.

Do I have ADD or ADHD? Do I have ADD or ADHD? Oh wait, I just said that. One thing should have clued me in years ago. It was between whether to be a missionary or a go-go dancer when I grew up. My interests have never been on one particular thing. Signed up for cake decorating at 25, ice skating lessons at age 30, returned to college at night to finish my degree in my 40's still not knowing what it is I wanted to be when I grew up. Other attempts have been dance class, scuba diving, photography, ASL American Sign Language and the list goes on.

All this time I have been attributing my distractions to getting older, but I just turned 50 and this has gone on since as long as I can remember. It is very exhausting to be thinking in so many directions at once. It's one thing to multi-task and another to run yourself ragged retracing your steps all day to make sure you didn't forget to do anything. You're ready for work, you get in the car. Oops, forgot the lunch. Back in the house, but where are the keys? You just had them. How can you lose keys when you just went from the door to the car? Oh my gosh, you took out the garbage to the curb. There they are in the top of the recycling bin. You snatch them up before the truck that's coming down the street reaches your house. And so starts your day.

It could be I'm just starting to slow down, but I prefer to pin it on a disease. As Kathy Bates said in Fried Green Tomatoes, " I'm too old to be young and too young to be old."

Don't Worry; Be Happy

One of the things I notice most as I age is worrying about everything. Actually not worrying as much as wondering why no one has common sense. Such as, why is the handicapped parking nearest the building, but farthest from the door? It's like map quest. There's the fastest route and the shortest route. The handicapped parking where I once worked was physically closest to the entrance of the building, but behind a curb. The person had to wheel themselves to the drive entrance, but then the ramp going into the building was back the other direction. They were almost wheeling one city block just to get in the building. It was probably, by law, within code, but come on! Another thing that troubles me is the braille at the drive-up window at the bank. Really?

Today I noticed that the live bait vending machine was out of order. Who stocks that thing? Is it heated? Will the worms survive this chill we're having? And if the machine doesn't get fixed, what happens to the bait? These are troubling thoughts.

You've realized you're older when you're concerned with what everyone is wearing. Why do kids wear shorts in the winter, but when it finally gets warm they wear stocking caps? Or you see people wearing sandals in the winter and you hope they have boots in the car in case they have car problems. And I bet that same girl wears Ugg boots during the summer.

Is worrying an aging process or genetic? Should I worry that I worry? No, it's probably we've been around the block so many times we're familiar with the view. Been there and done that. In case anyone digs out any of my pictures during the 70's like the one shown at top, I'll cool it on the fashion comments of today's youth. Using a bible metaphor, but way out of context, I'll remove the log out of my own eye before I try to remove the speck from my brother's eye. However, in the meantime, I'll be happy to wear my boots in the winter and my sandals in the summer (the white ones not until after Memorial Day, of course).

Happy Mother's Day

Took a day trip to visit my mother to celebrate Mother's Day. Picked her up and drove to the state capitol in Springfield to a little sandwich shop located in an old Victorian style home. Afterwards went to the mall for a little shopping then dropped her back in her town and headed back home. From the time we left to the time we got back home 12 hours on the dot. Long day, yes. Worth it? You bet.

There are times it is easy to convince ourselves we don't need to celebrate every event. Yes, it's a "Hallmark" holiday, but it's these moments we look back on with fondness. It is important to take time to celebrate these moments. While we may clear our house of clutter, we need to continue making memories. Otherwise, we won't have anything worth remembering years from now.

The picture is a wind farm my husband and I passed on the way home. What is so great about this picture? It's representative of both the old and the new. It is not good to stay cemented in our past. It is not wise to always look for newer and better things. It is when these two entities balance we can truly thrive.

Whether you are a mom, have a mom, know a mom - here's hoping you find that balance in your life. Happy Mother's Day!

Practice What You Preach

My previous blog was on getting rid of "it" and I am happy to say that even my husband took my admonition to heart and went through all his dresser drawers and filled an entire trash bag with who knows what. It took everything in my power not to go through that bag.

Great strides have been made as the other day when he filled a bag of "stuff", I went into the garbage, retrieved the bag, untied it and went through everything. He actually had some good "stuff" that I really should have donated, but wanted to remain supportive of his good efforts. So I was very proud of myself not to even go through the next day's stuff.

I donate regularly, but somehow can't come to grips with giving up everything. However, if I'm going to type for you to get rid of it, then I must practice what I preach and do better with clearing out the clutter. So why do we keep all of our accumulation? Probably out of guilt. "It was a gift", "it's too expensive to give away", "not even the poor would want THAT shirt", "this isn't being green to toss it". The angel of action hovers over one shoulder and the Satan of selfishness sits on the other. Who will win?

Seeing everything go at once is stressful to me. I have no idea why. I don't want it, don't use it, don't need it and could use the space or the money or the feeling of accomplishment by getting it out of the house. Since it hurts to purge everything at one time, here are some thoughts. Take a garbage bag and go through the house once a month, or every other month. Just fill that one bag and donate it. That way, it doesn't appear to be very much stuff you're giving away.

Pick a good charity. A shelter for battered women, the military, a children's home. That way, it feels good knowing that the money raised can help so many causes. And you can even claim it as a deduction.

My church is having a sale to raise funds for school supplies for the local community. I already have a whole list of things I can give for that. The library in town collects books to raise funds to buy materials for the library so I'm thinking of donating a lot of my books to them.

If the thought of just giving it away hurts, think about using EBay. The girl scout uniform pictured at top of page I was able to sell. At a garage sale I would be lucky to get 50 cents, yet on EBay, someone paid me $14 plus shipping. I have sold piggy banks, and Barbie dolls, too. It has been a lot of fun seeing who all bids on items.

Of course, you can also have a garage sale. For me, that's a lot of work and I don't feel like going through the effort of lugging everything out, pricing it, and sitting out on the drive for two days watching people pick over my possessions. And what's the most I could possibly get? Is it really worth all the effort.

Another garage sales of sorts is craigslist. You can just post one item at a time and when it's convenient for you and the person who wants it, you can set up a time for them to come and buy that item from you.

Another organization if love is recycle.com. You can't charge anything, but you have the satisfaction of knowing that you're not filling a landfill. Not only can you post something you don't want, but you can peruse the list for things you might need. I've seen people looking for little boy's tuxes. What a great idea instead of having to buy something he's only going to use once.

Once you start making a habit of donating regularly, it won't hurt as much and it helps curb the desire to go out and buy more "stuff" that will eventually end up in one of those bags you're giving away.

Get Rid of It!

Okay, so I'm still learning this blog thing. By the time anyone finds my site, or I get enough hits where you can find it on the web, most of my posts will be old. Who's going to go back through six months of old blogs reading everything you've posted. So I've decided it won't matter if my theme gets a little off track.

For today's topic, my thoughts wander to, when does one become "old", act "old", look "old"? For me it started in my 30's. My friend and I were at the movies and we wondered what makes us look old. Do we look this way. Looking down at my large purse balanced on my knees, I'm like, "yeh, we look old."

Sorry, but I grew up in a practical era. Purchasing items for need, not want. My purse had to be neutral, which means I've only bought either black, brown, tan or navy. Couldn't be so big you'd develop back problems carrying it, but not so small as to not be able to carry needed items. You know, gum, tissues, nail clippers, makeup, wallet, pens, candy, mail, bills, book to read at lunch, house keys, car keys, poop bags for the dog, an apple for a snack at work, um, what else? And you thought Mary Poppins' bag had a lot of stuff in it?

Speaking of purses, you had to have shoes. Woo-hoo; let's see they have to match so that would be, oh yeah, black, brown, tan or navy. I am a walking fashion faux pas. I'm not sure I was cool when it was even my time to be cool.

You know the day you realize your old, is the day those around you have no idea who you're talking about. It used to be funny when I was the one who was 20 and my co-workers were ancient, somewhere around 35. But one day it happened to me. I was talking about Ann Landers, when my co-worker had a deer-in-the-headlights look and said, "who?" I'm thinking, "Come on! It's Ann freakin' Landers!!" Everyone went to Ann for their problems or at least read her column so you would know your problems weren't as weird as those writing to her. That day was a crushing blow to my ego.

Now, my last blog said to accept thyself. But it's also okay to have a goal. We shouldn't just throw in the towel and give up. But I'm not making this blog one of those improve yourself, reach for the stars and be a better person. We are already okay the way we are. Just do try new things for the fun of it, the joy of it.

Somewhere I read a column about getting rid of all the things that you think you need to do, read, be. Took me a while to understand that, but looking around the house realized how many of the "classics" in paperback were just waiting to be read for the last 15 years. If they haven't been read by now, get rid of them. Go to the library if you get a urge to read "Wuthering Heights".

How about those clothes that you know you'll just squeeze into if you just lose about 20 pounds. Get rid of it! There are so many charities in need of good clothing. It's a shame to have them hanging around collecting dust and just making you feel bad because you haven't lost that weight yet. By the time you do, is it something you really want to wear anyway?

What else is lurking in those closets? Probably magazines you want to read, or you at least trimmed out the articles so it wouldn't take as much space, but I bet you still haven't read them. Christmas cards and pictures of people's kids that have been sent to you. You feel guilty to throw them out, don't you? Wait, you could make a great album, and put each family in chronological order so you could thumb through them years from now. Will you? Get rid of it!

And speaking of getting rid of things, dump that mental baggage, too. Those regrets long harbored, the mistakes, the I should-ofs, and the only if I could-ofs. It's okay. Like a potter, it has shaped us into the weird and wonderful person we have become. I only mention about getting rid of those things that we're saving hoping to be the person we should be. Instead, let's save the things that celebrate the person we are. It's okay if you haven't learned to play the piano, or written that novel. I bet everyone has someone that thinks the world of you, just the way you are right now.

Wanted to add some inspiring quotes. Since we're just starting this journey, today's quote is: "Forty is the old age of youth, fifty is the youth of old age." Victor Hugo. Let's celebrate our new youth!