Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: anxiety, apocalypse, comedy, humor, plague, survivor, UFOs
These days there is a lot of fear mongering, talk of anarchy and threats of various apocalypse scenarios. If you believe the social media “preppers,” the apocalypse is coming in the form of World War Three, a plague, or UFOs.
Or maybe the world is eventually going to be underwater.
Well, if any of those scenarios are on the horizon, I can rest easy because I’m not a survivor. Nor do I want to be.
I’ve seen enough Thunderdome movies to know that I wouldn’t make it past the first week.
Here are things I do NOT bring to the table:
Weapons or the skills to use them. I’m pretty sure my throwing axes will only protect me if my attacker is 10 feet away and standing still.
Medical knowledge or herb lore. Despite the fact that my family jokingly calls me “Dr. Libby,” I’m really just a fast Googler. As for the herb lore, if it’s a nuclear attack, you can’t eat what would be left. If we’re floating around an endless ocean because of climate change, seaweed will only do you so much good. That’s pretty much the extent of my ocean flora knowledge.
Mechanical ability. I can barely work a screwdriver, and IKEA instructions make me break out in hives. So no, I won’t be the person who’s fixing machines, jumping car batteries or siphoning gas to save the day.
Procreation. My body is no longer equipped to produce offspring, much less offspring that would adapt to a post-apocalyptic new world. I’m pretty much a post-apocalyptic recessive gene.
Here’s what I DO bring to the apocalypse:
Humor. If you can’t laugh at the situation, you’ll cry. So maybe I can keep some people from falling apart by making snarky observations. I’ll eventually become a court jester.
Documentation. I can write down what happened and how people survived. I’m told I’m good with dialogue when I write fiction. I will explain the weird lines on our (underwater) roads and strange phrases future archeologists uncover, like “Let’s Go Brandon” and “what’s your Roman Empire.”
Medical Assistant (certain conditions only). When it comes to radiation poisoning, I’m your girl. People throwing up doesn’t bother me at all. But, if there’s an attack with a respiratory component, I’m out. Snot makes me dry heave.
Medicinal Alcohol. My house could be a temporary source of medicinal antiseptic and anesthesia, given our current supply of bourbon. Until those supplies run out, we can all figure out how to make moonshine from ash, instead of actual crops.
Realistically, by the time the apocalypse happens, us non-survivors will probably already be assigned red Star Trek security shirts so we’ll be easy to identify. That way, others won’t waste time trying to save us when they could be building a desalinization machine out of seashells.
So if you’re a McGyver, a Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs, or someone who knows how to operate multiple vehicles, more power to you. You go all Thunderdome out there and keep the human race going. I’ll see you on the other side, wearing my shiny red sweater.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: 2025, adulthood, anxiety, depression, goals, humor, life, mental health, new year, personal growth, positive, resolutions
Usually at this time of year I post something about New Year resolutions and re-post a previous blog about body image. And yes, one of my resolutions is to get back to writing this blog. (I’ll still repost the body image blog, because I think it’s valid.) But, this year I really want to remind everybody to take a second and look back over the last few months, or year, or even five years, and see how far you’ve come. For some of you, that may mean taking off your readers for a few minutes to see farther back than yesterday. I’ll wait while you tap the top of your head, trying to remember if you actually have them on or not.
You do, because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to read this.
Ready? Ok.
Anyway…New Year resolutions are all about becoming a better person, or maybe just being less of a dick. Side note – one of my favorite gifts this year is this dish towel:
So that’s where my expectations are for people these days.
However, I think that before you make unrealistic resolutions for 2025, you should take a look at the positive changes that have happened in your life over the last year. Sometimes they are huge, like getting a new job, losing a bunch of weight or cutting someone toxic out of your life. Sometimes they may be as small as learning a new skill at work, like the fact that not every email deserves a response, or making it through an entire movie without also playing a game on your phone or scrolling through social media.
And, sometimes things that seem small are in fact HUGE – like going through a dark time and just plodding your way through, one day after another, until things get just a little bit better.
Whatever you’ve accomplished, take a second to acknowledge that you have had some triumphs. If it’s not 9:00am, maybe even have a glass of champagne to celebrate – unless you’re doing the Dry January thing (which I am). In that case you can always choose to substitute alcohol with a giant box of Cheese-Itz or other favorite snack food (which I do on the regular now). I mean Jesus, give yourself SOME kind of reward. You say you’re not or can’t afford to be food/drink motivated? Then reward yourself with something you like to do. If I’m not eating Rice Krispy treats or cheese in any form, my reward is to read fairy smut.
Don’t judge.
Some of you like biographies about celebrities with drug and sex addictions, real-life thrillers with some truly screwed up characters, and self-help books that are just cringey. I was in the airport for a significant amount of time this weekend and I saw what y’all are reading. At least fairies are fake.
So before you get that planner you’ll never fill out, join that gym you’ll quit in two months or start on ruin your knees by running 3 miles a day when you’ve been a couch potato for the last year, remember that you accomplished some stuff this year. It’s not anybody else’s business what that was – they don’t know your experiences, struggles or inner goals that you set for yourself. Most likely they wouldn’t understand or appreciate it. But you do – so go get that cheese or champagne or book that you don’t want anyone to know that you read over and over again (I see you, ACOTAR people). You deserve a little celebration as well as a little improvement.
Filed under: Middle Age | Tags: adulthood, aging, Boomers, GenX, mental health, Middle-Age, time management
I was recently talking to a friend and asked what he was reading. He said 4,000 Weeks – Time Management For Mortals. Apparently, it’s a book about the challenge of how best to use our four thousand weeks, the average length of a human life.
So I started thinking – how do I want to spend my remaining weeks? I immediately had visions of world travel, novels and stories I want to write, things I want to buy (and sell). I’m in my 50’s, so my weeks are dwindling. If I’m lucky I’ve probably got somewhere in the neighborhood of 1300 weeks where most of the big ideas would still be options.
I will still be working for the next 350 weeks or so, assuming all goes well. There are very few weeks in those 500 for world travel and other big bucket list items.
The pressure is on.
But I would caution that thinking of time in that way could have some unforeseen repercussions:
Creating bucket list goals that may not be attainable or that takes away from current “quality” time being spent in other ways.
Minimizing the value of spending time doing regular-life things. Doing chores allows you to appreciate the result of those chores. There is satisfaction in accomplishing little goals as well as huge life-changing ones.
Minimizing the value of being part of someone else’s quality time. If we all have limited weeks, it may be hard to appreciate the value of being part of someone else’s bucket list item or lifetime goal. Walking the dog may not always be the grandiose or high-quality way we’d like to spend our time, but to the dog it means everything.
Instilling unnecessary regrets for “wasting” time in the past. Regrets over the fact that you spent an entire weekend watching Beavis and Butt-Head are wasted thoughts. Those hours at the very least provide a roadmap for how you might manage your time differently moving forward.
But if you still have regrets, think about it this way: what if you did spend that time trekking to New Zealand or climbing mountains or whatever you think is the high-quality way you should have been spending that time? You don’t know if it would have been as amazing as you think it would, or what you might have missed in the interim, or even if the things you define as quality time now would be the same as what was important or vital at that time in your life.
Forgetting to be grateful for what you have in your day-to-day life. Instead of begrudging the fact that you have to spend half your Saturday going to the dump, picking up laundry and grocery shopping, consider the fact that there are many, many people who would love to be able to do those things, if only they had a car, or the funds, or didn’t have a disability or other circumstance preventing them from doing so. Instead, take a second and appreciate that you are able to do those things at all.
It’s always a good thing to stop and check your roadmap. Make sure you’re still heading in the direction you want to go and that you’re on track to hit your goals before you run out of gas.
Just don’t forget to look out the window.
And for God’s sake stop spending your time reading books about how to spend your time. Read something you truly enjoy.
Filed under: Exercise, Food/Drink, Middle Age, Posts | Tags: adulthood, health, humor, mental health, Middle-Age, new year
New year, new me…blah, blah, blah. I don’t like resolutions because I never stick to them. Last year’s resolutions included:
- Drinking less
- Eating healthier
- Losing 10 pounds
- Stretching
- Start jumping in my horseback riding lessons.
Let’s see…in 2023 here’s how that went:
- I honed my bourbon taste buds, took a trip to Ireland and Scotland and discovered after two weeks of tastings and more liver abuse that I still prefer bourbon
- My eating habits leaned farther to the Oreo and pizza side than veggies and protein; therefore I…
- Gained 10 pounds and went up a size – I am now embracing clothes that actually fit instead of trying to squeeze into jeans like a sausage
- I took a stretching class and managed to irritate already gimpy shoulders because…wait for it…I’m weirdly competitive at stretching – against myself
- I had a couple of concussions from falling off horses – not even jumping.
So, screw the resolutions. But I did come across a couple of ideas that might make more sense.
First, someone asked, “Are you acting like summer in winter?” Meaning, why are you working at life with the same energy in winter that you do in the summer? Traditionally, animals and humans in the age of foraging and farming used winter as a time for resting and saving energy – through hibernation, fixing equipment, making and mending clothes, etc. These days it’s often the only quiet time we get, except for that “retreat” somewhere in a mountain setting which costs and arm and a leg, and half your PTO. Winter is a natural time for a lot of us to reflect, to eat hot, nourishing meals that warm our body and soul, and figure our shit out. So, unless you’re an avid winter person who relishes outdoor cold-weather activities, slow your roll and stop acting like its summer. Sometimes having no agenda is an agenda.
The other thing I thought was a good idea was to change the inner voice that groans at 6:00am, “Fuuuuuck, I have to go to the gym,” to “Fuuuuuck, I get to go to the gym because I can afford it and all of my limbs and faculties work well enough to let me get stronger.” Changing from “I have to” to “I get to” may sound like a bunch of new-age think strategy, but it really does help. However, I swear if any of you hear me say anything about a person’s “journey” you get to punch me in the face.
Filed under: Exercise, Food/Drink, Middle Age, Posts, shopping, Spring Break, Travel | Tags: adulthood, Exercise, fitness, humor, mental health, Middle-Age, travel
Ok, so Imposter Syndrome (see my previous blog) doesn’t just happen in sports – it happens as a parent, and even worse, in the mirror.
I don’t know when exactly that it happened, but at some point I started feeling like an imposter in my own body. I would walk by the mirror and catch a glimpse of some person I didn’t recognize, who now has more gray than blond hair, a less curvy body and wrinkly hands,. Then I’d realize that person is me.
WTF? I would think. That can’t be me. After all, my brain hasn’t changed that much since I was 25. I still think poop jokes are funny, that I can do way more physically than I actually can, and I still laugh inappropriately at funerals. My brain also still thinks I’ve got my 25-year-old body – until I go shopping for a bathing suit. Then, I have to deal with my current “beach body.” (Oh, and if I see one more TikTok with some lithe, 18-year-old worrying about getting “beach body ready,” I’m going to…ok, I’m just going to swipe up again in a really, really irritated way.)
Here’s the truth, though: no one else on the beach gives a shit that I didn’t lose those extra 10 pounds, or didn’t go to the gym an extra session a week so I could have a flat stomach.
NO ONE.
And even if they did notice or care, they sure as hell don’t know my body’s story, that the lines on my face are laugh lines and worry lines from years of soccer games, horse shows and family vacations, or that my stomach, with it’s new shape and distribution, housed two other human beings and somehow still supports my spine so I can work at my computer to pay bills.
Appreciate the story your body has to tell. Nobody wants a story that has no plot, no twists and turns, no growth for the main character. Those stories are boring. Be your favorite story and embrace the cover.
Subourbon Mom 