Filed under: Posts | Tags: Christmas, family, fiction, humor, life, Middle-Age, new year, sex
Happy post-holiday food and drink orgy – and welcome to a new year of ways I can embarrass myself (and sometimes my family). It’s been a long hiatus from this collection of stupid things I think about and do, but in the immortal words of Randy Quaid….I’m BAAAAACK!
Now many of you know I can be forgetful. I blame it on age; some in my house would say I have ADD and should stop calling the kettle black. Either way, this Christmas my memory played a trick on me of epic proportions.
A few weeks before Christmas, Hubby went on an on-line buying spree and accidentally kept sending things to Daughter #1’s (D1) house. So, he asked her to bring them up for Christmas, hoping against hope she wouldn’t open the one that had some female “enhancement cream.” (Now, before you start getting all red and judgmental, remember that we’re in our 50s and have been together for 35 years. Sometimes you have to shake things up.) D1 said she would. For the next three weeks Hubby festered and worried that she would open the package.
“Do you think she opened it?” he asked me at least once a week.
“No, she wouldn’t. She knows it’s for Christmas,” I would reply.
Meanwhile, said daughter called me as soon as it came and asked if she could wrap it up, along with the other things, and put them under the tree from Santa – and surprise her dad. Knowing that the girls and their very significant others would be there, I laughed and said yes. This Christmas was already super weird, so why not make it epic?
And then I instantly forgot about it.
The day finally came to open presents with the kids. The tree was beautiful, the fire was lit, and we were all taking turns opening our gifts (yes, we’re that kind of family). I reached for a small gift that was to me from Santa and opened it. Inside was a pretty pink tube of cream. Without thinking I sniffed it (peppermint) and proceeded to rub it all over my hands, thinking it was hand lotion. I glanced at D1 and she was looking at me with horror. Then she covered her mouth and started laughing. Hard.
It took a couple of seconds before it clicked.
Oh shit…it’s THE CREAM!!
I looked at my greasy hands and started laughing, too.
D1 had to explain what was so funny to everyone else. D2 was also horrified but somehow didn’t seem surprised. I don’t know if I just no longer shock her with how dumb I can be, or if she knew about it. Hubby was totally confused for a second and then just asked if it worked.
I never looked at the boys to see what their reactions were – but I’m pretty sure that was not on their holiday wish list.
Here’s the answers to a few FAQs I’ve received after sharing this story:
- No, it didn’t make my hands warm and tingly
- No, I haven’t tried it in its official capacity, mostly because I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS. But, I swear to God If the kids have taken it and are going to mail it to me again, that will start a war that I will win.
- Yes, we have updated the delivery address.
- No, I still haven’t found out what the boys think. I don’t want to know. But I can safely say they just got a peek into the level of crazy we are currently operating on.
So, happy New Year everyone! 2025 went out with a tingle…and rest assured, I’ll be ordering my Prevegen shortly.
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.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: 1980s, adulthood, humor, Middle-Age, mindfulness, music, songs, teens
Whenever Hubby and I go on a road trip we like to listen to podcast called “The Moth.” In this podcast regular people share true stories along a single theme. This weekend the theme was how music shapes or affects your life.
I started thinking and realized I have several pivotal memories that had songs associated with them. To this day, they can dredge up what I was feeling at that time.
When I was 12, I had a huge crush on a boy at my school named John. We were at that awkward age where we still wanted to play, ride bikes together and climb trees. But somewhere between pretending we were the Duke boys and the middle of 6th grade, things changed. By the time the first middle school dance rolled around, I was head over heels. On the night of the dance I shimmied on my Jordache jeans that were way out of my newly-divorced mom’s budget, smeared on some purple eye shadow because I read it accentuated green eyes, and drew what I thought were dramatic black circles around my eyes with eyeliner. I’m pretty sure I looked like a raccoon in drag.
When the first notes of Purple Rain came over the gymnasium speakers, I looked for John and my heart dropped into my shoes. My beloved was dancing with my friend Becca. Then they were kissing – French kissing, no less! I literally felt my heart break, and today I still hate Purple Rain with a passion.
A year later at a 7th grade co-ed party, several of us were sitting in a circle playing the obligatory game of Spin the Bottle (I have no idea where the parents were). I hadn’t had my first real kiss yet, and butterflies were jumping on a trampoline in my stomach. REO Speedwagon’s “I Can’t Fight This Feelin’ Any Longer” was playing softly in the background. Finally, I looked down – the bottle was pointing at me! A boy named David, who had braces just like me, came in for the kiss. It was just what you would expect: spitty, messy and completely unappealing. But I had crossed over some invisible threshold, and REO Speedwagon was with me. It’s also not a current favorite.
All through high school, songs and bands marked various events. U2 was a date with Colin; Echo & the Bunnymen played during rides to school in John McGarity’s car; Free Bird signified The First Time (of course it did); The Cars were a beach party; The Clash and Erasure carried me through summers lifeguarding; Blister in the Sun was every party in the woods; and, the Red Hot Chili Peppers were the summer after graduation.
Then I started thinking about what our song is. Hubby and I have tried a few times over the last 30 years to identify one, but no single song has ever really stuck. Bad Company drove with us on road trips to the mountains; PM Dawn carried us up and down 95; Poison by Bel Biv DeVoe kept us dancing ‘til the wee hours at the clubs in Bermuda, and Carbon Leaf has stayed with us from college to the present.
I realized we don’t have just one song that’s ours because we’ve changed and grown up along with the music we listen to. It makes sense now why my 50th birthday playlist was so long. That’s a lot of big moments, and music was more often than not a large part of them.
If you have a lot of songs that bring that old anxiety, joy, relaxation, or nostalgia back, consider yourself lucky – it’s proof you were in the moment. Choose your next songs carefully – you never know what feelings will become entwined with them.
Our memories may be faulty, but the songs stay true.
Thanks for indulging me on my trip down memory lane!
Subourbon Mom 