The 11th Hour

I’m writing this awfully close to the 11th hour before posting so I really procrastinated on this one. Do you want to hear my excuse? You do? Well, I’m sorry but I simply don’t have time to go into that right now. The pressure’s on so I’ll jump right in.

A couple weeks ago I wrote about my introduction to wearing contacts. But Kaiser Permanente was out of the ones I need. Therefore, I went home with enough for just 4 days until more arrive, whenever that will be. So I had to decide which precious 4 days I wanted to wear contacts. Decisions, decisions.

I waited a couple days and in the interim I forgot the trick for putting contacts onto my eyeballs. I’m fairly sure there’s a trick to it. And I also forgot which way the contact should sit on my finger to show it’s not inverted and therefore might feel like sand embedded in my cornea. To tell the truth, it looked the same to me no matter how I flipped it.

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I Can See Clearly Now

If you haven’t yet reached the age where you’re referred to as ma’am or sir, this posting will mean nothing to you so feel free to go about your day. Or, on second thought, read this so you’ll educate yourself as to what awaits when you wake up one day and realize you’re officially a senior, aka long in the tooth, past your prime, seasoned…

Now don’t get me wrong; it’s not like I just entered this realm. In the US, people are considered seniors once they reach age 62. So I’ve already had four years of experience being old. And like anything, there’s good and bad in that.

First the good: A senior gets discounts at movie theaters and on certain days at some grocery stores — not particularly exciting when you consider the trade-off. But qualifying for Medicare and Social Security makes it tolerable. Another aging perk is that men take pity on me, sometimes offering to carry heavy items to my car. Little do they know I can manage on my own. But why spoil their feel good moment and tell them?

Now the bad: Well, how much time do you have? Just kidding. I bet you think aches and pains are front and center. Actually I’m lucky there. I try to keep in shape, work out, play tennis, blah, blah, blah. So once I’m up and moving, I’m good to go.

What’s hardest for me is going blind. Well, not actually blind but sometimes it feels that way. Sad to say, this is a normal aspect of aging. Things started getting blurry in my mid 40s when I couldn’t read the fine print in the phone book anymore. Yes, for you youngsters, there were once phone books.

Where’s the magnifying glass?
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Trying to Turn Back Time

I recently made the mistake of buying a 10x magnifying mirror. I ask you, what was I thinking? There’s no good reason to buy an item that only magnifies your imperfections while accentuating those you had no idea you even possessed. But did that stop me?magnifying mirrorLet’s face it – we live in a youth-oriented society. Wrinkles are not appreciated here like in Japan or the Philippines, where those with nooks and crannies are revered for the wisdom that comes with age (accompanied by great storytelling). Nursing homes? What are those? Continue reading

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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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 in my 60s, 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? Continue reading