One of my older brothers is like that. But he also started taking statins when he was in his thirties, blood pressure meds in his 40's so that his arteries would look kick ass when he was in his 60s and his bp would be like a 30 year old. He always did think ahead.
After reading the comments yesterday with reading glasses that are now 3.25 instead of 2.5, I realized that there is a new world of older people out there. Although we may need stronger reading glasses, we aren't our parents in sensible shoes or house-dresses.
The only time I realize that I really am getting older is when I get out of bed in the morning and in that stupor between sleeping and awake, which by the way, is way longer the older you get, I hop up and usually fall over.
Not all the joints operate in sync anymore and something usually forgets to engage. Usually my left ankle. I would like to say it is a valiant old injury from some athletic endeavor, but it probably is just stupid old arthritis. The hip I did injure helping to toss a sofa off a second story loft would be like a badge of honor if it hurt these days, but it doesn't, damn it.
And the second thing that always gets me is when I am out in the real world and pass by one of those enormously rude mirrors and glance over and for a nanosecond wonder who that poor old schlep is looking like a crypt-keeper. Sheesh. It's me. I manically drive myself back home to the land of denial and all is well again. I think marytkelly and I live in the same zip code: 33642-5000. Guess what that spells?
I was lucky enough to know two old Crones before I approached my own crone-hood. They didn't wear housedresses or sensible shoes so they were certainly qualifed to give crone-like advice. One became a state senator at the age of 71 and the other decided at age 94 to finally never buy green bananas.
When I was a sprout in my 30's they tried like crazy to give me some advice and I acted like a puppy. I was eager to please, but pretty much I was not potty trained yet. They tried to tell me that they had no regrets that were worth their time fretting over. They told me that it was merely important at the end of the day to be happy with yourself. To come to the mirror already smiling. I didn't have any idea what that meant. Then. But this is now.
If I could hop back into my 30 year old self, I would, for example, stop thinking that I was competing with anyone but myself. I would try to stop worrying about what everyone else thought I should be doing. I might try to not worry that I flubbed the GREs or the LSATs and then qualified myself as stupid.
What these great old Crones were telling me was that I had gifts that didn't need 3 graduate degrees to fulfill. Those gifts were in me to develop already and all I had to do was to believe that they were worthy of attention. I did eventually get that graduate degree and it gives my 50-ish year old self a good chuckle to have all those letters after my whole name. I don't even use my whole name anymore, let alone all those other letters. Sure, nice to have, but it doesn't help me write, paint, develop gluten free recipes, or train the muses.
I stumbled upon my first glance at what happiness is at the end of the day when I was a little sprout in college taking an art class. The studio was huge, the instructor perfect and nutty, and I got to paint whatever I wanted. I get lost in painting like I get lost in writing. At the end of the day, covered in my favorite colors, I was as happy as one can get. I never wanted to leave the studio actually. The passage of time disappeared. I didn't stop to eat, not because of a deadline, but because I was lost in the act of painting. And I was too young to recognize it.
That, for all the young ones out there reading this, is called happiness and passion. The premise is that it fills your soul, makes you swoon talking about it, and makes the passage of time seem like a flash. No minutes tick by, the afternoon is never long, and you absolutely cannot wait for the next day to arrive so you can begin all over again.
If it is anything else, those Crones might tell you to stop whatever it is you think you should be doing, and to only do the things that ignite your passion and happiness. Of course, over time, they said, those things change and evolve, but the basic premise is always true.
So really, the lesson here is simple. Don't wait until you are 94 to not buy green bananas. Buy yellow ones today.
And living in zip code 33642-5000 is not half bad.
After reading the comments yesterday with reading glasses that are now 3.25 instead of 2.5, I realized that there is a new world of older people out there. Although we may need stronger reading glasses, we aren't our parents in sensible shoes or house-dresses.
The only time I realize that I really am getting older is when I get out of bed in the morning and in that stupor between sleeping and awake, which by the way, is way longer the older you get, I hop up and usually fall over.
Not all the joints operate in sync anymore and something usually forgets to engage. Usually my left ankle. I would like to say it is a valiant old injury from some athletic endeavor, but it probably is just stupid old arthritis. The hip I did injure helping to toss a sofa off a second story loft would be like a badge of honor if it hurt these days, but it doesn't, damn it.
And the second thing that always gets me is when I am out in the real world and pass by one of those enormously rude mirrors and glance over and for a nanosecond wonder who that poor old schlep is looking like a crypt-keeper. Sheesh. It's me. I manically drive myself back home to the land of denial and all is well again. I think marytkelly and I live in the same zip code: 33642-5000. Guess what that spells?
I was lucky enough to know two old Crones before I approached my own crone-hood. They didn't wear housedresses or sensible shoes so they were certainly qualifed to give crone-like advice. One became a state senator at the age of 71 and the other decided at age 94 to finally never buy green bananas.
When I was a sprout in my 30's they tried like crazy to give me some advice and I acted like a puppy. I was eager to please, but pretty much I was not potty trained yet. They tried to tell me that they had no regrets that were worth their time fretting over. They told me that it was merely important at the end of the day to be happy with yourself. To come to the mirror already smiling. I didn't have any idea what that meant. Then. But this is now.
If I could hop back into my 30 year old self, I would, for example, stop thinking that I was competing with anyone but myself. I would try to stop worrying about what everyone else thought I should be doing. I might try to not worry that I flubbed the GREs or the LSATs and then qualified myself as stupid.
What these great old Crones were telling me was that I had gifts that didn't need 3 graduate degrees to fulfill. Those gifts were in me to develop already and all I had to do was to believe that they were worthy of attention. I did eventually get that graduate degree and it gives my 50-ish year old self a good chuckle to have all those letters after my whole name. I don't even use my whole name anymore, let alone all those other letters. Sure, nice to have, but it doesn't help me write, paint, develop gluten free recipes, or train the muses.
I stumbled upon my first glance at what happiness is at the end of the day when I was a little sprout in college taking an art class. The studio was huge, the instructor perfect and nutty, and I got to paint whatever I wanted. I get lost in painting like I get lost in writing. At the end of the day, covered in my favorite colors, I was as happy as one can get. I never wanted to leave the studio actually. The passage of time disappeared. I didn't stop to eat, not because of a deadline, but because I was lost in the act of painting. And I was too young to recognize it.
That, for all the young ones out there reading this, is called happiness and passion. The premise is that it fills your soul, makes you swoon talking about it, and makes the passage of time seem like a flash. No minutes tick by, the afternoon is never long, and you absolutely cannot wait for the next day to arrive so you can begin all over again.
If it is anything else, those Crones might tell you to stop whatever it is you think you should be doing, and to only do the things that ignite your passion and happiness. Of course, over time, they said, those things change and evolve, but the basic premise is always true.
So really, the lesson here is simple. Don't wait until you are 94 to not buy green bananas. Buy yellow ones today.
And living in zip code 33642-5000 is not half bad.
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