Ice Cream in the Oven

A Brain Cell 

Here is how it starts. The other day I opened the freezer to get my frozen lunch entrée for work and found a box of pasta. Penne Pasta to be exact. The kind that does not require freezing.

Almost everyday as I am driving to work I think, did I turn off the rollers? Did I remember to leave the back door open for Toshi?  Wait…where did I leave Toshi? At least once a month I get down the street and have to turn around, come home and get my phone, my Bluetooth, my purse, my lunch… my marbles.

Those brain cells are racing to the finish line. 

I have a great memory- usually. I don’t use Post It’s and I don’t have a calendar hanging on my wall. I keep appointments in my head- occasionally forgetting only something I didn’t want to do in the first place. Last year I forgot a breakfast date with my two good friends. That was unusual, but I was extremely tired and somewhat stressed out so in retrospect I’m not really surprised. I needed rest and my brain took it.

It’s hard to tell though where stress forgetfulness leaves off and dementia picks up.

At the height of my menopause (mental pause) ten years ago, my memory was so bad I thought I must have had a brain tumor. I frequently forgot words, my own address and I don’t think I ever remembered my phone number. It scared me to death because I have always prided myself on my total recall memory. I took a battery of tests, three hours worth and was informed that my memory was excellent- better than average. But it still felt off to me.

Dementia is not something I worry about too much. I have friends who have had family members with Alzheimer’s and they spend so much time worrying about ending up in the same situation they exacerbate their problem.  I think if you have a family history then you should probably do everything in your power to slow the process down. No booze, no paint sniffing, no drugs and no junk food. Get plenty of sleep and find a way to de-stress daily. I say hedge that bet.

There is a stress hormone called cortisol; produced when stress levels are out of normal range. Cortisol is a killer.  It’s extremely difficult to leave stress out of our lives, many of us don’t go looking for stress- yet it finds us anyway. Mediation, yoga or simply taking a daily walk will help keep your cortisol levels in check.

The list of things that will kill brain cells is long. I read several articles while researching to write this and found this link interesting.

http://4mind4life.com/blog/2008/02/22/50-things-that-kill-brain-cells/

From air pollution- to welding fumes, the aforementioned article probably goes beyond what I would deem dangerous. Certainly though- alcohol, cocaine, illicit drugs and many legal drugs will kill your brain cells.

In a normal, healthy person, thousands of brain cells die every day – some will regenerate and some will never be replaced. Most of us don’t do what we need to do to lessen the rate of loss and most of us make it worse. We drink, smoke cigarettes (or pot) don’t get enough exercise and don’t eat the right foods. 

I’ve been doing some online brain exercises that I hope will improve or at least slow down the death of my aging brain cells. Take a look at this site and give it a try.

http://www.lumosity.com/

Ocean Beach

Have you ever noticed how great you feel when you go out to the beach or for a mountain hike on a warm (not too hot) only slight breezy day? You feel refreshed and your brain feels clear. Perhaps it’s the additional oxygen or maybe it’s just walking away from the stress for a few hours. Either way- we should do it more often.

I’m going to make an effort to de-stress daily. I think that is my worst enemy and my personal brain cell killer. I figure I need this brain to last me a couple of more decades. I think I’ll start taking better care of it.

Who Took My Body and Left Me with this Mess?

No cellulite at 30

Some days, I don’t recognize my own body. It’s like I forgot the last 30 years- completely erased them and all of a sudden I looked up and had an old cleavage, and dimpled biceps. Dimpled everything actually.

I tell myself, it’s okay- this is aging. This is what it is. If you want to die pretty, you better die young. Too late for that though. And 60 isn’t old enough to be the aged crone or the old wise one. It’s just 60 it’s not 80. You don’t get bonus points for knowledge at 60 like you do at 80. Not from me anyway. Well maybe I give myself a few- but really I know better.

So back to the body. Weight gain is one thing… but zero muscle tone is another. And since working out isn’t working out for me, I have to rely on the outdoor exercise I get when weed whacking, gardening or walking the dog. And my bike of course- but I have barely been on that since the last butt wrenching ride.

I googled how to remove dimples and pulled up a bunch of body & fender stuff- so I did a more specific search and renamed dimples – which is cute sounding to cellulite which is gross sounding and found tons of articles- most of them trying to sell something. I found this blog though that made some sense to me.

http://diminishingcellulite.blogspot.com/

This led to some further digging and I found this link:

http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/149465.php

I guess I need to start eating more (or in my case some) fiber and lay off the bacon. Get some exercise and slow down the process.

I wish I were like one of those older women in the Dove advertisement- you know the ones that are a little chunky without the dimples or the ones who are a little wrinkled without the crepe?  Crepey cleavage is just not attractive. I’m going to have to change my clothing style a little to accommodate my surplus skin.

I could live with the whole thing if I hadn’t just forgotten to look at myself for the last 30 years. Seems like such a shock- like it happened overnight- but it didn’t did it?

I wouldn’t mind having my old body and face back as long as I could keep the knowledge that came with the last 30 years- and of course the son that came with it too. 

60th birthday

I’ll take what I’ve got though and just try to take care of it.

Riding Lessons

 Dear Nick,

Today I got my big butt on my bike and rode to Auntie Linda’s house to see Marni’s new dog. I got about ¼ of the way there before I realized that I am horribly out of shape- and unable to peddle in any speed. But you know me… I wouldn’t turn around and come back home. I continued on my journey when suddenly I realized (much to my surprise) that it was sort of up hill.

I thought… this will probably kill me. I’m going to die at 60 on a stupid bike with this stupid helmet on my head, not looking the least bit attractive. I’ll probably hit the cement face first and knock my teeth out and break my nose too. Fuck this, I said to myself as I pushed my legs even harder.

Every couple of blocks I had to stop and stand because even though it’s a nice gel seat- it hurt my ass. I was surprised too, to find out that I did actually have some bones in my ass.

When I made the one -mile mark I thought okay- I may live. I’ll just have to stop a lot- oh and by the way, the drivers here are all assholes, no one slows down or moves over for old fat ladies on bikes.

Mile two of the 2.2 mile trip was a little better- only because by this time my ass had gone numb. And did I mention it was windy? The wind whistled past my hearing aids at about 1000 decibels and was a real treat.

I finally made it- ready to collapse from exhaustion, thirsty as hell and a sore ass, I pulled up to the house- and no one was home. Not Linda, not Frank, not Frankie and no sign of Marni and her little doggie.  I heard the rooster announcing my arrival – to no one.  I tried to text Marni but out there in horsy land cell phones are verbotin- or so it seems.

I waited (rested) 15 minutes and then decided I better get home before dusk. My ride home was definitely quicker and easier- although my ass is beyond repair- which is really sad on an already old ass.

The good news is that I didn’t give up and turn around before I got to where I was going. If I have to start giving up – I will feel old. For now I feel like I won one. I rode my bike 4.4 miles and lived to tell the story.

Love,

Your crazy Ma

Back to Basics

Remember last week when I was going to quit the gym? Well- I tried to- but they offered me three free months and a trainer too; so I couldn’t quit. I would have looked like a quitter. So today, I went for my first training session. My trainer at Body Kinetics, Roberta, a tall, slender girl with a runner’s body, confided in me she lost 70 pounds.

Roberta did things to motivate herself that I know I will never do. She put stars on her calendar for everyday she worked out, and when she didn’t feel like working out she called her sister who would say things like okay- call me after you go for your walk. My sister would say okay- lets go to lunch.

Her commitment was admirable. I’m a little more iffy. I just want to be able to lose a few pounds, regain my muscle tone and be able to stretch without screaming. I don’t expect to get my 30 year old body back- as nice as that would be. I just want to feel better and have some energy to get me through my crazy workweek and have a little leftover for fun.

Roberta was a good pick as a trainer for me. She is neither judgmental nor condescending. She understands that in order for me to do anything I need some energy and to get some energy I need some exercise, to exercise I need to stretch and to stretch I need to not be in pain. It’s a vicious circle that I hope to work my way out of slowly but surely.

She asked me if I wanted to join a group hiking class. On the surface that sounded like a great idea- but then I remembered what I like about hiking is being alone with my thoughts. It’s a Zen thing for me. It’s where I work out my problems, decide what the subject of my next blog will be- or the next chapter in my novel. Having that time to myself, is what keeps me sane, or closer to sanity than I would be if I didn’t.

The hardest thing for me is getting to the gym. Maybe now, that Noodle can feed himself, I can make it one night a week and one weekend day. I’ll start there.

Meanwhile- the best discovery of the year so far, is the Oil of Olay® battery operated scrubber. I received one for a Christmas gift. I thought it was an odd gift to give someone- until I started using it. I can definitely see a difference in my skin and recommend it to anyone over the age of 13. I was a little worried at first because my skin can be sensitive, and it’s noticeably (to me) thinner than it used to be, so I worried about over exfoliating. Not to worry though, the brush is very gentle. I use other Olay® products too; they are affordable, gentle and not oily or greasy.

In the last year, all the things I made fun of my sister Linda for in the last four years- have happened to me. My falling face is the last to go. So, this week- I am fighting the aging process a little. Nothing drastic- no knives or lasers. Just some old-fashioned face scrubbing with a new fangled gadget and a few stretches. What could be easier?

I’ll have to take before and after pictures to post in the future.

Happy Sunday everyone- I hope you live an interesting week-make stories.

Getting Rid of the Grays.

Last night I gave in and dyed my gray roots. They were at least 3 inches long. I toyed with the idea of letting the gray grow out- but then I realized I’ll be working with the public more this year and I don’t want to look like one of those crazy dog ladies who spends more money on her dogs then herself. I am one of them- but I don’t want to look like one.

Last year- I joined a gym with every intention of getting there a couple of times a week at least- but first I got frozen shoulder for a couple of months- and then Noodle got lockjaw and my doggie/home/hospital became a full time second job. Honestly, I was lucky to get a walk in on the weekends.

Now it’s all a blur of course. I have sense of being horribly busy but no idea of the actual amount of time I put into feeding and caring for my sick old boy.

I decided today, I am going to un-join the gym. I’d rather spend that time walking outside, or maybe I’ll get a used bike. For the 59.00 a month that I didn’t use I could have bought two really nice bikes by now. It was a good thought- but time to keep moving.

I’ve noticed too, my priorities are shifting- again. I don’t want to do anything I don’t want to do. If that sounds selfish and old ladyish – so be it. Of course, I have to work- that goes without saying. But I choose to work a little different this year. Adding my real estate license to the mix, I will need to make some time to dedicate to sales and marketing myself. Making sure I work smart and don’t burn out will be crucial.

If someone asks me what I do for a living, what should I say? I’m a writer. I’m a real estate agent.  I’m a marketing coordinator. I’m a mom, I’m a cookie baker, I’m a dog mom, I’m an auntie, I’m a friend. What do I do for a living? I think I breathe.

No one can say I pigeon hole myself. I keep trying things- some I stick with- some fall by the wayside. Learning new things is the fun part for me not necessarily putting it into practice.

So we’ll see where this year takes me. What journey will I embark upon that will bring back the same me with more layers?

In 42 days, (yes I am now counting the days) I will turn 60. I keep thinking wow- 60 – that is really getting old. But you only have two choices- get old or die young. I choose get old. I just want to do it my way. Katie’s way.  Some might think- uh-oh that means the hard way. But I think –  it just means different.

By the way- my hair looks good. I went a shade or two darker. Dark blonde, like my natural hair color that I haven’t seen in at least 27 years.

Happy New Year – keep breathing and laughing.

Sick is not Old ... it just feels that way

 I find myself lacking the confidence, or sometimes over- confidence, I once had about myself. Little things chip away at it, like parking the car in the garage and knocking the side mirror off. Now, even Toshi, my Shiba Inu, looks from side to side when I creep into the garage going zero miles per hour, praying I won’t knock off the duct taped mirror again.

Yesterday, I had to throw away a whole batch of cookie dough because I couldn’t remember if I put the baking soda in or not. Then, the minute I dumped it, I realized I must have. Since I pride myself on my fantastic memory- this blunder was a huge blow to my over-inflated ego, and a slight blow to my pocket book too; since butter, chocolate and vanilla are now at a premium prices.

There was a time, when no matter what, if I was trying to do something or fix something I would not stop until it was done. Yesterday in the middle of baking cookies and making soups, I had to stop and take a two-hour nap.

This last week, I had a cold and shingles. I didn’t miss any work but I did go to bed every night by 9PM and a few nights earlier than that. I was starting to feel very sorry for my aging, aching body and myself when at the end of the day yesterday I added up everything I had accomplished in a week – with a cold and shingles.

I built over 200 ads, and worked 47 hours. I cleaned my house twice, I made two different kinds of cookies (about 8 dozen ) and two different kinds of soup. I did about 10 loads of laundry, walked dogs, fed dogs, I wrote about 2500 words, read numerous magazine articles and three chapters of The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. I made at least four trips to the store and still I feel like I didn’t get enough done and I am inclined to think it’s because I’m getting old. But really- I probably did more than a lot of people half my age, who were not sick.

Here is where feeling old is symptomatic of something else entirely. I don’t feel old, I feel sick and I’m tired. My head is saying old though. My expectations for myself this week were for a healthy me- not a younger me.

It’s easy to blame age because it’s the likely suspect. You can’t help but notice it, because it actually does chip away at you. But this week didn’t kill me and I should feel good about what I did get done and not snivel about what I didn’t get done.  I’m going to keep doing those brain exercises though because I really can’t afford to throw out any more cookie dough.

If you are 60 years old or older and you have not gotten your shingles shot- go get it. I have had this debilitating virus for over 25 years and it kicks my ass every time I have a flare up. The shot won’t do me any good because I already have shingles, but if you never had them, go get the shot.

Have a healthy week!

You're Only as Old ....

I took a good look at myself the other day- and decided I needed to come up with a good way to deal with aging. That old adage- you’re only as old as you feel, is a bunch of crap. I think you are only as old as you act and/or look. It doesn’t matter how you feel. If it did, I would be 500 years old.

Of course, you do have to limit your moaning and groaning as you move about the house, get out of bed, or a haul your ass out of a comfortable chair, but that is a learned skill.

I thought to myself- you can do this Katie. You can age gracefully and maybe even embrace it a little- on a good day, well sometimes, maybe.

Aging is a gradual process that hits us all at once. It’s the damndest thing. And, it’s not like I fell apart all at once either. I started wearing glasses in my 40’s, hearing aids in my early 50’s and I’ve bleached my graying hair forever. This year I have noticed a few new things, like thinning skin that bleeds at the tiniest scratch, multiple age spots, weight gain that won’t come off no matter what diet I’m on, wrinkles on my face, saggy upper arms, saggy everything actually, and facial hair I never had before. My upper body strength is not what it once was- and the veins, the veins in my legs are hideous- good thing I can’t see them unless I use a magnifying glass.

The facial hair is a big problem, because my eyes are bad. I have to remove the errant hairs by Braille. I keep meaning to ask my son to make sure he plucks my chin and brows when I’m too old to do it myself. I don’t ever want to be one of those old ladies that walks around with a chin hair two inches long and doesn’t realize everyone stares at her chin hair when talking to her. It’s worse than a guy with a bad rug.

That my ass and my boobs are still north of my knees is a small blessing for which I am thankful. My super-duper bras cost a fortune though- and nothing will be coming from Victoria’s secret.

Besides all the body changes, there are personality issues too. I am going to be 60 years old in just a couple of months, and I have an attitude to match it. I’m almost 60 for Christ’s sake- don’t talk to me like I'm 12. I don’t care who you are.

Granted, I kind of always had that attitude even when I was 12- but now I have something to back it up.

A lot of people in my age group are going under the knife for a little plastic youth. That’s probably not going to be my route. Too many of them come out looking like burn victims, and while maybe they prefer that to wrinkles, I am positive I would not. If you do it- please take before and after pictures and send them to me so I can post them on my blog. Maybe you’ll change my mind.

If anything can get us through this aging process, it will be sense of humor. Even stuff that is not so funny can be funny if you look at it with the right perspective. So, my new perspective is this: I’m glad I’m not dead yet. Everything from there looks good to me.