Category: sixty

Posted on in life, sixty

My Dupe Era.

If you are shopping in high-end boutiques. Fantastic. Carry on and enjoy, but outside the happy bubble of high-end everything, the rest of society is hurting. So, don’t get judgmental. Prices on everything have created dupe mania, which is different from fake designers wares. I don’t promote copies or fakes, but I am at a point that $100 for just about anything from leggings to facial products is stupid, but I still want comfort and the overall style that designers create. So, I am duping. I want the look for less. Period.

It took me a minute to get comfortable with this Gen Z creation. I like designer clothes, bags and shoes. I have pieces and will continue to go in that direction at times, but as prices climb in all areas from food, airfare, housing, etc. Gen Z’s may have it right even if it costs the public new boutique designs and a life of faster fashion. In this day and age, the saving of money is more important than ever, and frankly, the direction of prices shows no sign of slowing.

So, dupe, my friend. You can find some of your old friends for less, and while not exactly, the same it is close as there are tribes of dupers that compare the products like scientists. Watch a few videos, and you can buy the closest products to what is now a few hundred dollars a jar, La Prairie vs. Aldi, yes, the grocery store price, please. Hey, caviar is caviar… and groceries are also available. Food plus a treat. It’s such a 1990’s way of life which I miss.

At 61, my dupes are selective and based on a true desire to save money for big ticket items, travel, and retirement. This economy has caused us all pause, or it should.

Posted on in life, sixty, travel

The Little Farmhouse

There is something to be said about hanging out on a farm when you go to pick apples or buy jams and jellies, lovingly prepped and packed. Now, take this a step further and live on-site. Yep, on a farm. A working farm, no less. We were lovingly granted this opportunity from a family that realized our predicament while our own river home (not farm based) is being built, and we are grateful. Now, this farmhouse is used yearly as a hunting cabin. It comes complete with many horns on the wall and a real landline with a rotary dial phone. No internet. None. Nada. No TV. We do have radio and the outside noises of the outside trees. That’s it. Peace but also a relection of slower times and the reality that while nice, I like the simple comforts that time and technology have provided.

The days are easy. Writing. Walking. Writing. Walking. Cards at night. Rinse and repeat. We have a DVD player, so old movies are the comfort of noise and the colors that jet across the screen that I take for granted. Dinner, for us, it is a frozen meal, as cooking for me is difficult in the real world, now mix in ancient conditions.  I can’t imagine. But frozen stays in tune with the diet I am on, so it works. No real-world fancy temptations at every corner. A simple life.

We are young for the island. Oh, there are others, but land was bought a century ago and handed down or purchased by family.  Our parcel was a gift. It is priceless as I have aged to the slowness of the island and the desire to try new things. Hiking. Boating. Maybe even golf (off island). Reading, definitely, and of course, writing. Gardening? Well, it’s a  maybe. Our home will have the trappings of technology, as working is still a must, as is the desire to stay relevant and entertained.  But a simple life it is to escape from the city expectations and a sanctuary to fully enjoy life.

Posted on in anxiety, education, fitness, goals, Peloton, sixty, weight loss

Just One

Sweat is dripping onto my eyelids and into my eyes, causing blurred vision. I wipe away my fluids only to have buckets seemingly fall from the sky. This was my longest ride, best PR, and mileage pee minute did not suck. I am breathless, but the type you want again, and my mind is clear. Yesterday, I took a cheat day in my 21-day habit forming exercise. I needed it and while my calendar notes a blank hole,  my guilt got the best of me and I did yoga for fifteen minutes after midnight. To me I am still on track, neurotic, but now understand a day off of exercise is not an option.

However, last night was pure perfection for this calorie counting, protein shoving, and daily spinning grandma. A burger and a glass of champs! Absolute heaven. I have been so great in the numbers and workout department, but I knew I needed a bit of a treat. I did not work out. Horror, and I ate food with saturated fat. It was yummy. Was it necessary? Yes. It delighted my taste buds and caused me to miss working out and feeling the after-effects of too much of a good thing. It was a testament to my newly built strength, habits that are forming, and the realization that this will take a year of my life, but a life filled with the new real focus of the mayo way health. Count calories and protein. Period, and move daily beyond from couch to kitchen.

While strides are happening, the food, drink, and workout break were fabulous. However, the guilt felt was and is miserable, and it is my job on my long-term lifestyle change to fully enbrace that guilt has no place in this scenario. So, today, I pushed, excelled, and realized that while I still love a culinary delight. I love the person I am becoming more!

Posted on in epilepsy, health, sixty, weight loss

Enjoy the Ride

A mantra firmly planted on my wall in front of my bike. During a ride, I read it over and over and extend the meaning beyond my pedals. Currently, I am relearning the art of enjoyment. Depression is odd. I know I am blessed, have a great daily life as a teacher, make a difference, and am loved. But the feeling persists. A dark cloud that chases me and, at times, hovers. On good days, it allows the sun to shine through for my reminder me that life is amazing even with a depressive persona. This will never go away. Clouds will be off to the side waiting to dart towards my life, but the clarity of life is my goal, and my understanding that this is one big ride is a milestone that I celebrated by taking a chance and talking to my physician about the dreaded topic of weight. I had gained. I knew it. For many reasons, this was a bold move, but I was ready.

Now, having a weighty conversation is awkward, but it is  better to have it with a doctor who has known you for years. You can at least forgive their bedside horrors, and frankly, facts are facts. So, we started with the number. He just pointed to my chart. I cried, and during my blubbering, I was proud of myself as I made no excuses. Nope. I owned my issue, not worrying about how many clouds would chase after me, bringing me that feeling of dread. To my surprise, I left lighter and full of hope as I have three months to get new habits, a weigh-in, and then the discussion if I need medical help. We both are fighting that one, but this is Mayo. Their plan is stronger than the corner shot clinic, and my goal is thirty-five pounds. For me, this will take six months to a year due to the list of meds that keep my epilepsy in check. I left with a caloric target and a protein goal. A huge one to keep carbs and bad fats away. This, with a serious upgrade in riding, a bit of low weights, pilates, or yoga on off days is the ticket.

Fast forward to day four. I am hungry, but protein seems to keep me in check. I miss food but realize this is life, not a diet. Eating correctly and working out or suffering an alternative far bleaker than a dancing dark cloud is my choice , and I can not break my eating or fitness patterns  anymore, as 61 is 61 and while weight loss will not chase all my clouds away the sunshine will peer through occasionally as the success of consistency brings hope and hope is eternally powerful force for those living with depression.

Posted on in grey hair, health, sixty

Tipping Over Sixty

Sixty was hard. I felt my age. Middle-age extras in all areas, a few injuries, comfort food, and a lazy attitude kept me feeling my age. My mind kept going to the elder thinking ways, as I lost a parent. That will make you think for a bit. My thoughts lasted too long, and every pang was an emergency. Finally, I woke up and dusted off my sixty years to embrace sixty-one and beyond. It’s never been the number it’s always been about life with the number and sixty stunk. Lots of lots. Leave it at that, nothing insurmountable, I come from strong stock. But the moments plus my looks that turned accelerated the feeling of old when anything but. Did I mention I am vain. Oh yes, and while no model beauty, the little I have, I treasure, and in my eyes, the slow crumble was devastating.

Until now, actually last week. I just snapped out of it, got on my bike, rejoined Weight Watchers, Oprah or not, and am doing things the right way for my body and my life. Of course, with my newer fluffy body in shrink mode. I made peace with the neck. It’s not going away. My thought is that if the other pounds slowly melt, fitness increases, and my grand buddy and I explore the world more. I don’t care. I want to keep up with him and enjoy. Nugget thinks I am pretty. All the time, except once when I herniated my disc and told me I needed a shower. But that is another story, and he was right.

So sixty-one has a few gadgets trying to minimize lines, better makeup on my weaker areas, simple comfy styles as I shrink and feel happy wearing, and my notation that size and weight do not matter, it is overall eating to live and moving to move everyday, without fail that is key. Sixty-one is enjoyment, love, travel, family, and feeling youthful per mind and body. Why not! Sixty-one is designing sixty-five, i.e., retirement to create a busy fulfilling next season. I have ideas. It’s a start, but no concrete plans, and I know I am blessed to be at this stage.

Bring on Sixty-one!

Posted on in anxiety, life, menopause, retirement, sixty

It’s My Cabana

It’s my cabana and I will cry if I want to, or take up the entire space, glaring at others that dare to share. I knew cabanas were an option at every resort, but never did I ever dare to reserve, I will now. They are meant for those of us who have spent lives in the chairs, sharing chairs, and schelping out the children focusing on their needs first. Truly parenting with juice boxes and cherrios in tow. It is my cabana time. I have arrived. Lululemon dupes and all. These two weekends have been devoted to bringing a smile to my face, the hubs is trying. I have struggled. Between turning the big 6-0, and my fathers passing without proper closure, life has become murky.

Wading through my clutter did feel better on a cabana. Perhaps it was our fabulous waitress, the perfect backrest, or the sea air and views. Or was it just the cabana with the only lacking accoutrement being a charging station for cell phones, or is that not the point of the cabana life? I dont know? A newbie here. But I will bring a charging pack next time, which while taking away my solitude, allows me to write and solves my huge cabana problem.

While embracing my new life fixture and enjoying every minute, I still clashed with my current status of coping with a life in transition. A life in the normal stages of 60. A life beyond empty nester and into the “one day retirement” stage. Don’t get ideas. Just one day. The day gave me clarity that served the day but the chaos bounced back today. It will continue. I can’t stay on a beach or any other metaphor for life perfected, forever. No matter how many trips, spas, and dinners my feelings will stay until I learn to manage them, without a cabana. But until then the memories and true joy I felt will help me along the way on this journey to find my peace.

Posted on in essay, family, granparent life, humor, life, sixty

The Claw Can Lose!

The first haul from the claw!

Going to an arcade with a five-year-old is a blast. As a grandparent you cherish the smiles, the firsts, the games you choose and do not choose to play. You do, however, just because you are a grandparent and let’s face it this is more fun than parenthood. Truth. Even better is the fact that my nugget outsmarted the claw four times over. Yes, the impossible claw, that my husband and I swore to our own son, “the claw always wins.” We were cheap. Well, with the nugget, who cares. This is our third or fourth trip. I stayed with the mantra, but dad gave in… well, toys came out galore. “Grandma, I won. I beat the claw.” Of course, this is really the first time I have seen anyone win at the claw, so I was overjoyed and yes, we continued to play. Why not? Yes, there is more loot (one stuffed item for all) as he shares nicely. The Kermit like figure, is my gift from my grandson, which I will cherish. All $50.00 of him! A grandparent’s time is pricey but well worth it, as parents, usually cannot do what we can due to just life being expensive. It is our time. I never did arcades with our son. Never, but the nugget, after reading me a book gets the moon and I get the love of Kermitish.

Kermitish

The Kermitish, will be my forever. It was the combination of the sharing, the excitement, and just the enjoyment of the day. Nugget laughed at the name. I would as well, it is goofy. But so is an arcade and an after delight of a kid’s movie in a fancy theater. These days are precious, and they are coupled with the delight of reading, watching him tie shoes. Almost. Helping me pick out a Halloween costume (Blues Clue) down to the tights and ears. Since it was cost effective, and it made him happy, why not? No reason, sans my dignity but it for a school function. I lost any sanity and sense of costume style long ago. So, while the claw can lose, news to me, grandparents who put in the time, a few bucks, and plans for the years ahead to share in their lives, will never. That to me is the adventure, I will gladly continue to take, as long as Kermitish can come along for the ride, and he will. In the arcade I had an epiphany. Odd, yes. But it was the consistent flashing lights that brought on an idea he will never forget. Wherever we travel so will the Kerm, sort of like Flat Stanely, with postcards, journals, and of course pictures of grandma and grandpa (unwillingly) and the Kerm, wherever we go. So today, while was just a small adventure in an arcade and the viewing of a movie became so much more. It was compassion, sharing, beating the claw, and having a grandma make it into a lifetime of memories for all of us, especially the Kermitish because he thought his life would be inside a bubble, but now he will see the world. Eventually.

Posted on in anxiety, education, family, health, life, sixty

Subtract Not Add

I went through one of the best first weeks of school purely absorbed by outlying tasks, chores, stuff. Some money-making opportunities others just life. My mind not on the focus of kids but a running to-do list that gave me an inner click when every task was complete. I was miserable and less accomplished, as I was worried about tommorow, the next schedule, how I could get home quicker to review turtoring lessons before I zoomed away. I can’t. Literally can’t. With every tick off the list, another appeared with the only loss column items becoming my family.

My need to add is a stuffing mechanism to keep busy, not focus on the reality of a painful past, and so I do not look at the alternative. Retirement. Creepy. An elderly life, and the unknown. But the more I stuff into the hours of the day and night, the more I lose out in life.

So I am going to keep subtracting and focusing on my present, my daily blessings of students, and my family before I blink and it becomes a memory of long ago. Will I retire. No. Stop trying to do everything for the sake of a couple bucks. Yes.

Posted on in family, german shephards, life, sixty

Nothing But Love

There were things I did today. Yes, but there was also alot of nothing. Silence. Occasional thoughts. Not many. Just sitting and watching stupid TV, a summer goal, and live with my thoughts that have been relatively reflective on a life level. Between just normal life, training our furry friends and introducing them into their new lives. I can’t help but think about my former life, as a young mom, and draw comparisons to my current summer life. Schedules, activities, meals, more activities, a ton of no’s, daily teaching, and a car ride or two. I love this summer. Not because it’s our dogs settling into life, but it brings me back to a time where there was a bit of mental nothing on a daily basis, but filled with plenty of activities for others. In that time of my young mom’s life, I got excited when the diaper did not fall off. My current situation of teaching the sit… down…sit…command, with success, was a highpoint of today. It came to me today that this is my final attempt at parenting. Furry. Yes. But parenting. Once in awhile, my real kid might need my advice and he will always have my love and worry, but he does not need what these two need. My furry friends are giving me exactly what I need at sixty. Not much. I got it all, well, not all. But everything necessary. So, these pups are giving me back my simplistic life and tasks from long ago. My days are filled with mental boredom but a complete focus on others, too much TV in the background for noise (drowning out other dogs) and great for breaks during their frequent naptimes. I get my mom life back one more time, and this makes this summer, while not exciting, and filled with trips. It is a walk down memory lane as I look at them and remember that while it is alot of nothing but daily groundhog tasks. It is filled with the unconditional love. This brings back my first set of memories, of pure love and the true importance of the daily mental nothings. While not I.Q. raisers, they are physically and mentally challenging, that simplistically thrill me in a way that brings back the best time in my life.

Posted on in essay, grey hair, menopause, sixty

Sixty…The Art of Aging

It’s a big number that I am struggling with and dearly holding onto my 50’s like some prized possession. My writing has come to a standstill while pondering life in a new decade. Oh, I am grateful and bring on the years, but this number has stopped me in my tracks. It just sounds old. And it is, truth be told. There is no sugar coating this number, it is not the new anything. Nope. Not. I have tried to spin it and it just sounds like pure denial, and it is. So, I will not sell you on sixty. Can’t. But I have a few thoughts and high priced wisdom to share. Life has taught us to be crazy. If we just step back we realize life is meant to be simple and aging is the high art of simplicity. Being on this planet for ALMOST six decades, at the time of this blog still living my best fifty-nine year old life. Here we go, 1. Don’t give a single thought about anyone’s else’s comments about anything. For example, if you love Bravo, watch it. Just saying, and yes, it feels great to step out of my Bravo guilty pleasure. 2. Everyone should eat well, not diet. Golden wisdom right here. For free. Amazing. 3. Puppies are cute but so was thirty. Beware, drink extra coffee, and buy robotic cleaning everything so you bend far less and enjoy the puppies more. If you do make this leap, and we did, it will change you for the better. 4. Accept yourself or head to a shrink. Or both. 5. Stop trying to cook if you hate it, buy the meal kit, eat out, or throw salads together. Stop pretending that one day you will magically make food that is editable. 6. Keep fitness simple and do what you like. You are not thirty. You are not moving that way again. Just move. 7. Plan retirement but never retire just plan to continue what you love. 8. While the Chanel bag might never be yours, if you do you need one, get it! If not spoil your grandchild. The latter will be beyond any superficial item, so give up the logos. Unless it is a watch. Than go big. Really big. 9. Go to bed early. 10. Get rid of shit. Those CD’s ain’t coming back and remember a life streamlined brings peace and as we age we all need as muc as we can get!