Pot Gummies Rock

After years of being an insomniac, I’ve discovered something rather disturbing and it’s this: Not sleeping sucks. This comes from someone who, given the chance, would enjoy 9-10 hours of blissful slumber a night until my late 40s.

Something changed when menopause hit. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not alone here. Few ladies I know around my age who aren’t on a low dose of hormones sleep throughout the night. I’m envious. I’ve asked my doctor about this and I get the same response my sleepless friends receive…

Keep a sleep routine; don’t use your computer late at night; get a sleep app; take Melatonin; no caffeine at night; take a hot bath…yada, yada. Well let me tell ya, none of that worked. And since Alzheimer’s is on both sides of my family, my doctor advised against taking sleeping pills and using hormone therapy.

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The Merits of Aging

Previously posted in 2013

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 "young" friend, Hilary

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

Busy, busy, oh so busy…therefore please enjoy this post from 2013 and I’ll be back next week…

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

Welcome to My World

I slept three and a half hours Friday night. This is not particularly unusual for me. That’s partly because ever since menopause my body says: Who needs sleep? Why waste all that time with your eyes closed when they could be open? That’s what my body says to me and unfortunately, I usually listen.

So Friday night (actually early Saturday morning), I was sound asleep, having finally dozed off somewhere around 12:30 a.m. watching Stephen Colbert. Then one of the dogs started whining at 4:00 a.m. It was my Greyhound, Nellie.

stephen-colbert

Nellie happens to have the bladder of a camel so I know at that hour she was simply bored and wanted to go outside to eat poop off the hill, keeping me waiting at the back door until she has her fill. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not exactly psychic. I know Nellie eats poop because she returns chomping on it. Anyway, I didn’t fall for her whining this time and told her to go back to bed. Trouble is, now I couldn’t do the same.

My mind started thinking of my ‘To Do’ list for Saturday and it was a long one. So I read a magazine for a half hour, hoping it would bore me to sleep. But it didn’t. So I watched a program I’d taped. Then I watched another. By 7:00 a.m. I was still awake but starting to doze off. That lasted until 7:30 when the animals decided they’d had enough rest for the night and it was time for me to rise.

rise-and-shine

And so our morning routine began…

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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