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Posts Tagged ‘Aging’

20160919_180800

Over twenty years ago, Bill planted a sapling.

It was a Red Maple that never turned red in the Fall.

Yellow was always her color.

But this summer she is again sporting her beautiful mantle of green.

Other trees managed to succumb to benign neglect or wicked weather;

  • a gigantic Bradford Pear who split in two during a storm called a Durecho,
  • a Weeping Cherry who never made it past puberty,
  • an enormous Crab Apple who nourished our deer but simply gave up.

But the beautiful Red Maple stayed on as if to comfort and assure,

“I will linger long and grow toward heaven for as long as you may need me.”

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It comes as rather a nasty surprise that I am aging.

You too?

Oh, I knew there would be a few aches and pains,

and of course a face with well placed character-wrinkles

and some artfully arranged gray hairs.

But the plan was (and still is) to ignore such minor imperfections and compensate with self deception.

Creams and lotions help (and please try them all like I do).  The commercials might be right after all.

And  maintaining an upbeat, youthful attitude is the way to go.

This means a devotion to nutrition and exercise (if you practise on rare occasions like I do).

But who knew about falling asleep in a chair and waking up

with mouth wide open?

And how can you take charge of keeping

your mouth shut when you’re out cold?

I admit this humiliating onset of age mars my usually proud

and eternally youthful countenance.  And thankfully, I don’t snore!

But

I am now hoping for soulmates out there (those of you with gaping jaws)

to come forward with your learned-from-experience solutions to this ultimate indignity.

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Detailed Red Car

The Old Oldie Just Detailed

I discovered it is never too late for an adventure!

Aging is no barrier since there are surprising  opportunities to experience new, wonderful and uplifting feelings that can leave a person dreaming in anticipation.

I suspect you are eagerly awaiting the details.

Bill and I bought a car.

That was fun, but not the dreamy exciting adventure in question.

We  purchased a 2013 used car (with a lot of techie he-man gadgets).  This car is old but new to us.

But no, that was not the adventure either.

To further explain this story it should be known that the new-old car is now Bill’s and I have inherited our 2006 old-oldie.

Certainly not the stuff of dreams huh?  

But just as an aside, surely my giving up the new car will put me on your

list of sacrificing, saintly humans who give more than they receive.

To further qualify this story and to fill you in on the adventure,

It must be remembered that anything Bill touches gets kind of messy – meaning dusty and used-up looking (excluding Me of course).

Anyway, the brand New Used Car is now Bill’s to mess up,

and the Old Used Car is solely and exclusively MINE!

And the Old Used Car has been “detailed.”

AND THAT MY FRIENDS IS THE ADVENTURE!

I am beyond excited!

I have never had such work done before but I now have an old car that

  • looks like new,
  • buffed to a high shine,
  • no dust,
  • no pebbles
  • and no mud on the floor boards,
  • everything organized in the glove compartments,
  • ancient papers discarded and only the most up to date easily accessible,
  • bugs off the windshield and anywhere else they have collected,
  • leftover food from feeding the critters at Safari Park vacuumed out of the window wells, and
  • in other words, untouched by you-know-who!

O.K., I didn’t really expect them to organize my papers – or did I? That is a “detail” isn’t it?

I was beside myself with anticipation – like a young girl looking for a new dress to prepare for the prom, I kept imagining things.

Will I love it?

Will it look as good as I think it will?

Will the world see how beautiful it is?

Talk about an adventure!  I know it’s not like rock climbing or skiing or even trampoline jumbing.

But WoooHooooo!  Did you ever think of DETAILING an old car as an adventure?

 

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Viola was a local  Virginia “character” who took pride in having an independent streak.  She was forthright and fiercely opinionated, and loved beautiful things.  And she was a beloved friend whose gifts over the years are things I still cherish.  They were old gifts she found in antique stores and one-of-a-kinds for the young me.

Sadly, we lost Viola, but there are wonderful reminders of her all over my home.  She was a friend who put extra thought into gift giving.

cookie-platter

  • A beautiful scalloped edged platter I still use to serve cookies.

  • An art deco bowl that makes bananas seem  brighter and yellower (is yellower a word?).

    art-deco-bowl

  • A lacy edged vase for short stemmed flowers to make into elegant arrangements.

    ruffled-flower-vase

I just read an article about how young people don’t like old stuff anymore. They don’t want Grandma’s china or sterling silver that has to be polished.

Who needs gold edged dinner plates for fast food or pizza delivery?  And who wants cutlery you can’t put into a dishwasher?

I concede there is some logic in this thinking albeit the younger generation seems to be forfeiting an atmosphere of beauty, charm and grace.

But do they know about the feelings you can get from holding or using something with a history?

A beautiful old serving dish is never really old.

And an elegant old vase will always complement a spray of  seasonal flowers.

And much like people, some old things age gracefully with the help of a little extra care.

And other things grow more beautiful with little to assist them but age and patina.

I was a young woman when Viola gave me some exquisite old things.  They never required too much care and they are cherished now, almost thirty years later, along with some very sweet memories.

I keep reminding myself that finding the one-of-a-kind perfect gift for someone special may be as easy as a stop at the local antique store.

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Growing old can be fun.  At least that’s what my oldest friend, Kit, says.

on-a-scale-of

Photographer Unknown

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20160907_181640Would you believe that even men’s underclothing can be trendy and mysterious?

Parental Guidance recommended.  This is a true truly indelicate story.

Bill and I went shopping last week.

Bill purchased some great socks, a couple of T-shirts, and a package of three boxer shorts.   I complimented him on his refined taste in underdrawers.

“Good brand,” I said.

But when we got home and the new shorts were put to a test, he discovered a  serious flaw in the merchandise.

There was no fly!

“Can you imagine this?” he said.  

“Why would they ever sell boxer shorts with no fly?”

Since I try hard to solve all mysteries, I began thinking.

Thinking is supposed to be good for aging people.

  • Maybe they were shorts for sports.
  • Maybe when they called them boxers they meant the kind boxers really wear in the fighting ring.  They wouldn’t have a fly would they?  That would be somewhat risky depending upon where the knockout punch landed.
  • Men’s bathing suits don’t have a fly either, or do they?  I never really noticed.
  • Did George Washington have no-fly briefs?

    george-washington

    George Washington portrait

I tried hard to figure out the mystery but finally agreed the shorts Bill bought were flawed!

The fly/flies/flys must have been sewn shut by accident. 

I told Bill to give me the unused items and I would return them to the store and explain the manufacturer’s malfunction.

That night however, I began thinking again and mulling.  Isn’t mulling a lovely word?

And finally I thought of GOOGLE SEARCH!

And there they were – No-Fly Briefs – all over Amazon.com and everywhere else  you can think of.

They are the big “in” thing now because they are seamless if you are a man who wears tight pants.

Who knew?

But seamed or seamless, Bill will not wear them.  And by the way, he doesn’t wear tight pants either.

So goes my somewhat indelicate story of trends in modern day apparel.

And Bill is steering clear of the “no-fly zone.”

Re Comments:  

If your spouse or significant other is wearing no-fly boxer briefs, please, that is way more than I need to know.

 

 

 

 

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27 Year Old Latch

There is a certain sweet familiarity

about rusty old friends

who wobble and groan

and creak and moan

like me.

 

 

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