Does Wisdom Really Come With Age?

They say with age comes wisdom. I’m not so sure I believe that. You see, I’m not exactly a spring chicken so you’d think I’d be pretty smart by now, wouldn’t you? There’s no doubt I’ve learned stuff along the way that’s helped me navigate through life. But in some areas I’m still quite lacking. And for that I blame my poor memory. How can I acquire this wisdom if my memory is on strike?

For instance, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve misplaced my keys. When I walk into the house, I should have a routine where I put them, don’t you think? Sounds reasonable to me. If I had a routine it would go like this: place the keys in a bowl on the counter. How hard is that? Apparently very.

Where my keys should go

Where my keys should go

My mind is like a game of leap frog. It jumps from one thing to another. So by the time I exit the car, walk to the door, open it and walk in, I’m already on to another thought. I think I’ll make myself a grilled cheese sandwich then water the annuals. Oh, and I suppose I should fertilize while I’m at it. And so it goes…

Any conscious thought about keys became lost within the 20-foot span it took me to get into the house. Poof! Continue reading

Whatever Happened to The Sandman?

The Sandman

That elusive Sandman

Ever since I hit The Big M (menopause), The Sandman has been like a long lost friend who remains mostly lost. Haven’t seen him in a while, but I have fond memories. I once relished eight good hours of sleep after he visited. Now I’m lucky if I get five.

Oh, the joys of insomnia. In fact, I’m writing this on my laptop in bed at 3:18 a.m. At least I’m accomplishing something constructive tonight (if you call this blog constructive). Continue reading

Rocking the Boat

Last week I wrote that the older I get, the less I care about how I’m perceived by others. I’m noticing that also goes for voicing my opinion, good bad or ugly. Apparently this whole aging thing has dulled my sense of concern in regard to what slips out of my mouth.

Rarely silent

Continue reading

The Merits of Aging

This week, when my younger friend Hilary told our ladies’ tennis group she needed “less mature” friends because we oldies are struggling with injuries, I quickly fired off an email to that healthy show-off, explaining what she’s missing by not being an interesting 50+ year old…

My My “young” friend, Hilary

My Dearest Hilary,

Let me set you straight. Younger friends are boring. They have nothing to complain about as far as body parts aching. What is there to discuss if you have no wrinkles and therefore can’t debate the best ways to disguise them? What could possibly replace the topic of whether it’s better to use a color rinse or permanent dye when trying to cover gray hair? Continue reading

Gaining on the Golden Years

Last year, after my 56th birthday, I began to understand what the phrase, “feeling your age,” actually entails. What caught me by surprise, however, is how it looks.

Evidently, my  appearance has betrayed me. Strangers no longer refer to me as “miss.” At some point, I stepped over that invisible threshold into a new reality. I am now known as “ma’am.”

me leaning on pole

Apparently this is how “ma’am” looks

Aging is sly the way it sneaks up on you. There are no bulletins to announce its arrival. It suddenly appears when you aren’t paying attention. Looking in the mirror one day, you wonder whose face is staring back. Personally, I never saw it coming.  Continue reading