Don’t Rush Me, Buddy

So last Wednesday I’m out of nectarines. Or maybe it was Burrata cheese. The point is, United Market carries the best of both so I made a quick stop. If you’ve never had Burrata before, I ask you, “Why the hell not?!” Simply drain the liquid, slice off a creamy section, drizzle it with olive oil, sea salt, freshly cracked black pepper and red pepper flakes (if you like to live dangerously) then dollop it on toasted, sliced baguettes rubbed ever so slightly with a clove of garlic. I tell ya, it’s cheese heaven.

burrata-cheese

Anyway, while I shopped, I found much more I wanted to buy. As usual. To look in my cupboards you’d think I’m housing 4 people here. Hey, I stock up. I’m a stocker. But the thing is, while I roamed the isles, I noticed how crowded the store was for a Wednesday afternoon.

I’ve been coming to this United Market since I was a kid. My mom brought my sister and me with her each week. Vicki and I sat in the cart eating Flicks milk chocolate discs. They were our reward for being tolerable while Mom shopped. Sometimes, when we were exceptionally good, we got Necco Wafers. I don’t recall having the opportunity to enjoy those very often.

flicks

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Living Life Lip-less

It wasn’t long ago that I recognized something about myself: I have no lips. That’s right, I’m lip-less. One would think I’d have noticed this a few years ago, but no. Apparently I don’t look in the mirror enough. In fact, I peek as little as possible.

me again 3

See what I mean?

That’s not to say I look hideous. I wouldn’t go THAT far. But when I do stop to look closely at myself, it’s sorta scary. Seems the older I get, the more my lips disappear, along with other pertinent stuff. Bette Davis had it right when she said, “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.”

bette davis

You tell ’em Bette

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Night Owl or Morning Lark?

hands up

I don’t know about you but for me one of the least desirable aspects of getting longer in the tooth is lack of sleep.

Gone are the nights of 10-hour slumbers like in my teens. In my 20s-30s I often achieved a steady 9 hours. In my 40s-50s, 8 hours hit the spot. Ah, those were the days.

Now that I’m 60, my snoozing time lasts about as long as an Oliver Stone movie, generally just over 3 hours. I’m then awake for 2, followed by another hour or two of semi-consciousness. I tell ya, if I keep going like this, when I hit 70 the act of a prolonged blink will constitute a nice little nap.

dear 3 a.m

I suppose it doesn’t help that I’m a night owl. Now don’t get me wrong; it’s not my fault. I blame my mom. Like my sister and me, she stayed up well past midnight, needing to force herself to sleep around 2:00 a.m. That doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for a visit from the Sandman, does it?

I know as we age the rumor is we don’t require as much sleep. I hope that’s true but still, I’d settle for a solid 5 hours. Not reaching that magical number definitely shows. Like, for instance, when I saw the photo of myself in my last blog. I was horrified at how old and tired I looked. When did THAT happen? I blame it on lack of sleep. Or better yet, my parents.

lack of sleep

Uh…that would be a definite yes

But guess what? It turns out I’m not just arbitrarily blaming my mom and dad. That’s because I recently read about a study at the University of Leicester, Department of Genetics, that human sleep patterns go beyond preferences but are governed by genetics. AH HA!

lack of sleep3

In my case, obviously not

You may wonder how this was discovered. Or maybe you don’t. But I’ll tell you anyway because it’s pretty interesting. Turns out fruit flies share 75% of disease-causing genes with humans. Who knew? And that’s why scientists use fruit flies as proxies for people in many studies. Your welcome.

fruit fly

Ugly little suckers aren’t they?

Mixed in with all the mumbo-jumbo brainy people use in neurology publications, the gist of it is this: Feel free to blame your sleep patterns on your parents. Works for me!

mom and dad

All their fault

As you can imagine, sleep deprivation causes all sorts of awful repercussions, like a higher risk of motor accidents, an increase in fatal ailments, loss of sex drive and premature aging. Well, good day to you, too.

According to the Sleep Foundation, most adults need between 7-9 hours of sleep each night. I only know one adult who accomplishes that. Come to think of it, she doesn’t have many wrinkles (damn her) and she’s older than me. The skin under her eyes is like a Dyson vacuum — totally bagless, while mine resembles an old Electrolux with those long narrow bags.

electrolux 3

They say it’s natural for some to be night owls while others are morning larks. But what about those of us who are late to bed and early to rise? What’s to become of us? But I guess that was answered two paragraphs ago…

lack of sleep 2

Tell me about it

So unless I get more shut eye, my prognosis appears grim. The thing is, I don’t want to get hooked on sleeping pills and I find counting sheep boring but not sleep-worthy. What to do, what to do…

Oh, that’s right. I forgot…Blame my parents.

sleep quote 5

 

 

Hitting 60

It’s official; I’m old. But that’s only according to AARP.

For those of you with no clue what AARP means, you’re obviously not one of “us.” You don’t yet have a bathroom drawer loaded with hair coloring and you’re able, or more importantly, willing, to look into a magnifying mirror without wanting to lose your lunch. So if you’re in that group, AARP means American Association of Retired Persons.aarp cardI’m now an official card carrying member of this club, one I never particularly yearned to be part of. But since hitting the big 6-0 Friday, I’m closing in on being at peace with what put me in this prestigious group; things like gray hair, wrinkles and occasional aches and pains.

The most important criteria for membership in AARP is simple: live long enough and they beg you to join. No tests are taken. You also don’t need a sponsor vouching that you aren’t a lunatic who will eat all the chocolate chip cookies at the meetings. Do they have meetings? I guess I’ll find out. If so, they better have cookies.chocolate chip cookies Continue reading

Where Are We Again?

don't foget A couple weeks ago I divulged my innate ability to get lost (even with GPS). This week, why not tackle my skill at losing things? Things like my keys, my mind and my glasses. I thought I’d slip in the losing my mind reference without much notice, but seems you were paying attention.

My nickname in high school was Skippy because I was, well, a bit scattered and yes, forgetful. Still am. Friends even went so far as to choose that name as my personalized license plate. Motorists thought I loved peanut butter or had a passion for skipping. Little did they know. I’ve been know to forget having met someone. Unbelievable, huh? Sometimes I don’t recall places I’ve supposedly visited. I’ve even watched an entire movie then realized, as the credits rolled, that I’d seen it before. I’ve always been this way, which in a sense gives me comfort. Continue reading