Tag: #silverwithstories

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 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 family, fitness, weight loss

Enter Tovala

My Best Friend

I have not felt this sort of initial love in decades. It is as we were made for each other, as this is my answer, to all things cooking. Imagine a scan and go technology with the ability to churn out meals that have ingredients only tasted by my household in restaurants. I can’t cook, but marvel at those that can and actually love the process. I applaud you. I am more of the shop, five minute prep and scan girl. Oh, I can do chicken nuggets and lunchables but charcuterie still comes in plastic with my shop, open and go mentality, and I am ok with this.

The hubs heard of this Christmas gift to myself and he balked. You can cook, it will be costly, yadda yadda. I ignored. So far, he likes it. It is not a love match as he has his own eating peculiarities (bariatric patient) but so far I have received a positive reaction. I am just learning to order for him and myself separately. I am low calorie and he gets what wants and divides it up. It works and makes me happy. Tonight is a Korean pork dish. Yum.

The upsides of this new countertop space grabber far outweighs its bulkiness in a world gone minimal. We are eating balanced low calorie meals that are portioned correctly and enjoying our choices, more time together, and sometimes a fancy lunch, if leftovers or an extra chicken, does no meet his tastebuds.

So run do not walk to www.tovala.com and find you machine, meals, and your new best friend.

Salmon, brocoli and fancy sauce
Posted on in book, essay, family

Joe

I was Joe for years. I have no understanding as to why technology placed my number under this moniker. But so be it. My dad was happy, it made him laugh, and that is what I lived for, his laugh. It was big and Joe made him laugh. Sometimes. I still have his last message and kick myself that I waited a day to give him a call but I did not expect death. No one does. I cry at odd times and need to see a shrink. I am a mess. We were an odd couple with a deep father- daughter bond with distance, understanding, and a likeness that was odd since I never grew up in the same zip code, state, or on the same coast. No ill will. Just a reality that made our times, good and bad, more poignant. The last time I saw him, I let him read part of my book, aka the heap of papers that I am rewriting and asked his permission to use his addiction story but no name. No big details just enough to tell my own co-dependency story. He loved it and agreed. But it sits. Every year, it is the books year, with more of an effort on the type of cover picture than the words. This is a problem and a pure sense of delay in my own healing and perhaps the two others that purchase the book. It is not the sales, it is the completion.

So, this is the year and while I should dedicate it to “Joe” whoever that technology snafu friend was, it will be dedicated to my Clem.

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 #teacher, education, essay

Columbus Day = A Week

Sorry Columbus, but our week off (Fall Break) has nothing to do with you finding the New World. In fact some no longer celebrate your deeds. That is another story. Today, my writing celebrates my confusion of a week off in the middle of a school year. We just started! I have never understood this week off for teachers. Never. I gladly participate in this new age holiday of sorts. But why do we have four weeks off before the beginning of our third quarter? There are no answers as we have only been in school nine weeks. But we gladly take it. Does this impede family vacations and day care? Probably. Does this hurt the educational dynamic of our students? Eh. No data to tell. So we carry on.

So, what do teachers do with their time. Well, those with little ones, they enjoy, and I am constantly jealous, as I loved any time off with my kid, now adult. For those in the latter part of our careers we probably don’t do big travels if we are prepping for retirement. We organize, sleep, workout, etc. We stay busy and enjoy the solitude and ability to go to the bathroom on command. We recharge. If you are over fifty teaching becomes increasingly demanding and we need to reset the batteries, that are so badly drained, from their constant powering level of being ON, ON, ON for everyone at all times. While, I am still on empty, I am at least to the stage that only one nap is needed a day. My first day home, I woke up at 4:00pm and went to bed by 9:00pm.

Today, I am wearing make-up, a chic all black lululemon dupe, and checking off my lists and creating Christmas lists. This teacher budgets and shops from October onward. I am just getting things done for a happy organized home ready for fall, without having to leave the house. I am not ready for the real world, perhaps tomorrow. Maybe. I have time.

Posted on in book, life, non-fiction

This Thing Called Life

The book is to be completed this summer, and I have more on the burner. This blog is to keep me on track and remind the husband for money to self-publish. Yes, self does not mean self. It means money, money, money. I think he is good for this one. Then I will go onto the Neebish children’s book (no title), but I have already asked the kid for the photos, since my artistic skills are low, very. Also, I want him to be part of the process, as Neebish will always be part of his life. So, pictures will be first, then the story. Yes, also more money. Next up, “Mrs. L’s World, Stories from A Tired Teacher.” I got that one and have a deadline by the end of summer 2024. For this year’s summer writing haven, the original manuscript had to be lost than found. Next, I filed it, and today, a year later, having the guts to look up the basic format of a traditional book and creating time in my not so busy summer to sit and write. This was easy. Setting up page one and the file. Simple. Using just one space after the period. Difficult. I am actually going to have to count. I am so old-school. So, I have relatively high hopes for all of these writing ideas to come to fruition, if period placement and spacing is my biggest issue. Which of course it is not. The work is tremendous, but it is exactly what I need to force myself through. If I did it once. I can do it again, this time with the added editing and the making changes, which will be many. “This Thing Called Life,” is my life. My memoir. My sarcasm, in spades. I promise laughter.

Posted on in health, intermittent fasting, life, menopause, weight loss

Intermittent Fasting Continues

It’s been approximately a month. I have had my good girl and bad girl moments. During this time I knew I needed more guidance. I have found the holy grail for menopause mama’s and rid myself of all the other weight loss noises in my life. Good-bye Weight Watchers, good-bye Noom, again and the Carb manager app I was using as I tried to rid myself of all things good, while fasting. All at once. I went deep and fast. That never works. It didn’t.

But I am back. A new sensation on this tenth day that will not leave me is hunger. Not just in the morning but throughout the day. All my deep dives give the same song and dance, allow me to paraphrase the countless holes of information that gave me a ray of hope and more hunger. Don’t quit, you will get used to it, only two to four weeks and it is just another daily skill, and the worst, some have no hunger after two days. Who are you? We must meet so you can share your recipes. But not quitting. Not this time. What’s three more weeks of feeling hungry, grumpy, and tired if on the otherside is my menopause mama holy grail to weight loss and health.

The changes I have made are drastic, although I sneak a carb now and then. I am sugar and almost carb free, my calories are low and my overall carb intake in in range of Keto. My vitamin intake is huge and have added juice shots for added benefits. I am all in and I feel accomplished. My steps have risen and I am closing in on 300 rides. My mind is clear. A big step and I have a bit more energy. A bit. But I am hungry. But my clothes feel better. But I am hungry. So, wjile no drastic scale changes, I feel but better. That’s enough. For now, it is alot.

My new lifestyle guru, the creator of the Galvaston diet, and some great products.

https://galvestondiet.com/

https://www.kevita.com/products/sparkling-probiotic-drink/

https://www.walmart.com/browse/health/immunity-boosters-shots/976760_1544540_8925996

https://310nutrition.com/blogs/all/vanilla-almond-protein-shake

https://whisps.com/

Posted on in anxiety, health, life

Peter Pan Meets Reality

Photo by Thirdman on Pexels.com

It happens. I try to play it off or completely ignore big life issues. To me my world is about teaching and the great stuff about family. End of conversation. The rest interferes with my obvious brilliance, after twenty years in the classroom, my Peter Pan existence as a parent, grandparent, and even as a spouse. In essence I ignore reality. I am fine with this existence, but others feel I am ignoring their needs. No, I do my research, prayer, and check off all the boxes of care, and make sure Amazon visits with all the needs. I just don’t want to talk about it, ever as I end up with my strong combination of Irish/Jewish guilt down serious rabbit holes that put me one step away from a white jacket. Yes, the kind you cannot get out of…ever. I care, love, and worry but on my terms. My hubs is having surgery, now the C word is gone, but is it? It never is at Mayo, so he wanted to have me read the novels the clinic sent him home with along with the massive directions for the day. No one needed this. I needed a drink afterwards and had nightmares for nights and three new wrinkles. Reading the preview was too much for me, but he needed this for him. I told him I would have asked every question from the doctor, you bet, but this reading meant something to him, not to my panic and worry, but to him. So, out of love I read. Drank, and read over again. I worry differently. Obviously, packing a flask to the hospital, just in case. But I worry. Intensively, in a happy way. Most will never see my constant worry. We all have our moments, and our concern comes out differently. My thoughts are hidden, only I can tap-in as needed. I sometimes outright avoid everything, but they are there and felt, as that is part of humanity. However, on any given day let me just be happy, play the role of Peter Pan, and give away the gift that was given to me, the ability to entertain at any level at any given moment. I am more of a cocktail party kind of gal. Not the big stuff. But to my Senator. We got this! You will find me entertaining the Mayo Staff or a stray child, as that is my coping strategy, but always worrying.

Posted on in goals, grey hair, health, life, Peloton, sixty, sugar-free, weight loss, weight watchers

Habitual Excuses

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels.com

It is all in the habits that are built through time and effort that equate weight loss or the healthy weight or size or feeling your desire.

I start. I stop. I start. I stop. I start. I stop. I start. I have a magic number, don’t we all. But truly not sure if my number is above or below my possible fantasy.

I know what to do and how to do it. We all do. Life never gets in the way of success. It is us. There are good alternative decisions everywhere and time abounds for movement. It does. It comes down to us. Always. We stand in our own way and diet gurus capitalize on our own lack of discipline.

On the last day of the parent teacher conference, life hit me hard. I have had this parent in my life for almost two years. I have seen her happier and moving easier. Not today. The parent admitted to just having a stroke. Her movement is impaired and no longer can she work. Big. She is a nurse. Or was as she doubts that will ever be her path again. She is twenty years younger. It is obvious that care was not something she gave herself, but as a nurse she does know how to take care of the human body or was it the above excuses we make about foods and fitness plus the stressors of life that caused this scary period of her life. Who is to say. I teared up at her story. It could be anyone. Anytime.

So, I did what anyone with the “habitual excuses syndrome” does, I ordered pizza. I enjoyed it and today is a new day. Not of excuses or deprivation but one that copes with the good foods and special yummy choices without guilt. At almost sixty starvation is not my thing. I get bitchy. Let super models live that life. Last night, no guilt, which is new for me, as I usually have pounds of guilt added to my already full scale of weight. I realized that I try to build all the good habits at the same time and instead of pure success I am stuck in the partially proficient model. That never works. So, I am starting with my “almost gotcha habits.” For me I “almost gotcha” daily spinning, I “almost gotcha” on water intake, and on my weekly Weight Watcher meetings. I don’t almost gotcha perfect food choices, but I am pretty much sugar and low carb on most days. So, I am going to finish my February with water, movement, my weekly Weight Watcher meetings, (love the virtual option), and making better choices. Let’s call this cognizant eating. Right now, my crockpot is humming with pork ribs and sugar free sauce. Yes, this is ok, ask Weight Watchers and tomorrow in the crockpot will be chili. That will keep our small family fed for the week along with a chicken sausage night with Alexia sweet potato fries. Simplicity for our family of two, is key, due to my ability as a chef and my husband’s palate. So, with twenty to lose and my new understanding that all new habits cannot be built overnight as the diet gurus profess, the building habits slowly and completely will get me across the finish line, while still enjoying life, and staving off the constant excuses and guilt that comes with enjoying life, making a mistake, or just not feeling it that day because let’s face it until your needed healthy choices become part of your daily routine you will never be at the goals you dream of. Never.

So, write down your goals, start with the simple routines you can feel successful with, and keep adding new ones and follow through until it becomes a daily need. not a chore. May I suggest Weight Watchers if you need some guidance, they fit my needs, and have the healthiest relationship with food and life. Not Noom, not the Metabolic Guru, not intermittent fasting, nope Weight Watchers. This is not a paid ad. Just saying.

http://www.weightwatchers.com