Adult Conversation

Each of these posts is intended to serve to functions:  1)  to share with my fellow humans bits and pieces of my experience and 2) to spur discussion, debate, thoughts--whatever.

I'm going to be crafting this post carefully, since it involves my son, a fiercely private person when he is not pursuing his craft (entertainment-related).

When I'd been in Colorado about five months, Son called me, asking if I "really liked" my new state and hometown.  I answered swiftly and decidedly--yes, this is where I am, and where I will live out my days.  He then stated what I had already known for a long time:  he and Wife were "so done" with California--the cost of living, the pace, the climate, etc., etc., pretty much mirroring my own set of grievances  Son was only asking me because they were considering Colorado for the next phase of their lives.

In the days/weeks/months that followed, I was thrilled to lay eyes on Son again, giving him a thorough orientation to my hometown, my apartment complex, all that is My World.  This was a delicate balancing act--my being helpful while not being an Overbearing Mother.  We each have strong personalities, and so I kept my Consultant hat on, and my mouth shut as much as possible.

DMV stuff, setting up a mailbox, getting belongings unloaded--all pretty much tasks Son did, and I just butted out.  Things sometimes got testy when I again donned the Mom hat, and insisted that he needed to find a proper Colorado winter coat, gloves--and that a wear of sturdy Western boots would fare better than his shiny dress shoes--because I said so.  Never mind that there's no snow right now--Colorado weather has a mischievous habit of without-warning change.  And I got to say I told you so when it did snow several days later.  And it's a good thing that coat came with a hood.  So there!

Actually, because we have so few family members left anywhere, this relocation has drawn Son and I closer--I think.  We sometimes go for a day or two, or more, without seeing each other, but we've come to a mutual agreement that texting is a means of contact, without hesitation.  With our respective schedules, calls can be too intrusive.  To respect that boundary is important for our sanity, and the health of our mother-son relationship.  One time, after a brief (sixty-second) bickering session, Son looked down at me (he's way more than a foot taller than me) and said, "You know I love you, don't you?"  That remark stopped me cold--we are not from a demonstrative family--but it touched me deeply.  This, from a man who, as a kid and a teen, had uttered the frequent, heart-stabbing, typical, "YOU'RE THE WORST MOTHER IN THE WORLD!"

A turnabout from all the years I told Son, "Don't touch that!" in regard to stuff in my home office -- I've seen Son's professional set-up.  There are three large monitors, a hard-drive unit, a camera, a professional-grade microphone and an enormous keyboard that blinks four different colors. And other gadgets that I haven't a clue what they're for.  Intimidating.  Kinda like Mission Control.  What went through my head was MC Hammer's "Can't Touch This."  Don't worry, I  won't.

Maybe we've both grown up.  Son drove, without any complaint, through blizzard conditions so we could celebrate Thanksgiving over a nice restaurant meal.  About two months later, he responded to my frantic distress call, came in, scooped me up, and transported me to the E.R. at 2 A.M., when my rheumatoid arthritis "locked up" my entire left leg. (Don't ask why the EMTs didn't transport me.)  Son is my go-to escort when I go to Costco and need muscle for those heavy/bulky goods, or assist for reaching items way.out.of.my.4-ft-11 reach. He voices concern when he thinks I'm working too much--or too late.  He's got my back--and I'm becoming okay with that.

Yes, Son, I do know you love me.

More Changes

I'm relieved to have made the commitment to get back on a healthier path (through Weight Watchers), and it has led me to some other decisions to live better:

• Yesterday, after considerable thought, I closed my account with one of the major TV cable companies.  They made two calls during the day to try to persuade me to stay, but I held my ground.  From now on, I will consciously choose my programming through Hulu and Netflix.  Aside from being more budget-friendly, being conscious of my recent habit of coming home, and "crashing" in front of the TV "to unwind" will help me consider other options -- like doing the "unwinding" with a walk in the open evening air.  AND -- not losing track of time, and getting to bed earlier.  The last two nights of more hours of relaxed sleep have already made a difference in my concentration and mood.
• When my online dating account expires in August, I'm no longer going this route for socializing and companionship.  I'm going back to being an old-fashioned gal, and meeting people in the real world, in real time.  I already have plenty of opportunities to have fun in such a friendly town as Littleton.  In my off-work time, I'm going to be proactive and go out without feeling I need to be invited to join the human race.
• As my weight drops, and my joints feel better, I'm going to look into ballroom dancing classes.  What better way to meet other people, have fun and burn more of those clingy excess calories?  Surely, MeetUps and Groupon can make it feasible and affordable.

I'm feeling excited about "revving up" again.  Stay tuned.

Dropping Ballast, and Revving Up Again

I'm going public on this, if, for no other reason, it will help me feel more accountable for my goal.

The media is chock-full of accounts of celebrities and public figures who struggle with their weight and physical fitness.  When they shed significant poundage, we cheer...and then we feel an almost sadistic glee when they fall back into the pit of overweight.

I'm going on record, for whomever cares to know, that I've rejoined Weight Watchers.  In 2005-2006, I was able to get rid of almost 50 pounds and keep it off.  When a person is 5'0" and tiny-framed, there's not much room for error...and midlife metabolism is unforgiving of too many late night stress eating and carb-oholic binges.  Still, I went to many, many meetings and did the online program, and it showed.

Then, the domino effect began in 2012...caring for my mom as she slid steadily into her dementia...my knee injury in 2013, back-to-back with the onset of severe rheumatoid arthritis...my brother's terminal illness...it was all such a whirlwind that I didn't stop to see what a toll it was taking on my psyche and body.

On this past Sunday, as part of the enrollment process, I sucked it up, took a breath, and stepped on my scale with fear and dread.

173.  Seeing that number really, really hurt.  But so do my feet...and my knees...and my pride.  I want to walk again, dance again, date again.

It's been the end of Day Two of my online program.  I've got the Weight Watcher app on my phone to keep track of what I eat.  This morning, I had a phone session with a coach who has kept 75 pounds off for about six years.  And I've got the little awards from my previous Weight Watchers program as a reminder that a do-over is possible, and that this time, I will be able to sustain my success.

Thanks for letting me share this.

A Democrat Again -- Reluctantly

Before typing up this post, I tried, without success, to get Google to pull up a link to an article that appeared in the Denver Post last Sunday (May 29, 2016) entitled, "Malaise hits both parties as voters look to Nov. 8."   It's on page 2A of the front section, so if you still have your hard copy lying around, take a look at it.  For those who lack this paper, I'll do a brief recap.

It's quite an interesting piece, based on a May 12-15 poll of 1,060 adults, describing the anticipatory moods of the respondents as ranging from "Frustrated" (70%) to "Proud" (13%), with "Interested," "Helpless," "Angry," "Hopeful," "Bored" and "Excited" falling in between.

Honestly, I can say that I feel most of the above each day, depending upon whatever media to which I've been exposed that day.  There's another word I used more often -- "concerned."  The article went on to say many voters are anticipating voting against a candidate rather than for someone.

When I moved to Colorado in May of 2015, I made going to the local DMV a priority -- to get my Colorado driver license, duly register my car and get the new plates and, while I was taking care of important business, registering to vote.  I'd given this matter considerable forethought, and told the clerk I wanted to go on record as "Unaffiliated."  The clerk reminded me that, in making this choice, I would be waiving my right to participate in the primary election.  Presently, only Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Massachusetts, Michigan and Minnesota afford unaffiliated voters this right.  I told the clerk I was fine with this.  And I was--until the Great American Political Three-Ring Circus went into full juggernaut mode.

From the start, I tuned into CNN for the debates.  For comic relief, I have enjoyed the barbed humor on late night talk shows, Stephen Colbert's series in particular.  Bumper stickers and article headlines such as "I'm Catholic & I Vote" or "I'm a Senior & I Vote" are encouraging to me.  This whole process is human drama to its highest--or lowest--degree.

Last week, I received a form letter from the Colorado Secretary of State, reminding me of the consequence of my earlier choice, and that I had a limited time to rethink my decision.  As a result, I did some quiet grumbling and rejoined the Democratic party.

In the 1972 emotionally-charged Nixon vs. McGovern election, I was ineligible to cast a ballot, since I didn't turn 18 until a month after it was all over.  During a trip home from college at the Thanksgiving break, I registered as a Republican.  My choice, at that time, was influenced by my entire family being vehement Republicans; to make any other choice would have been seen as unthinkable and un-American.  Within five years, my differentiation was reflected in my switch to the Democratic side. Ten years after that, I re-registered--as a Green Party member.

My brief Unaffiliated status came about as I got older and began chafing at accepting ready-made labels.  Politics, for me, had become more about underlying issues, rather than slogans or candidates attempting to represent huge demographics.  In my freshman college year, I relished calling myself "a RADICAL," because of the Vietnam War and the influence of my peer group.  My twenties saw me mellowing into "a liberal."  By the time I got into my fifties, I had trouble identifying with any  pre-packaged agenda, and realized that I could consider concepts like democratic and republican (deliberately lower-case here), while being open-minded and truer to myself.

Referring back to the Denver Post article, I'd like to suggest that a measure of "malaise" might be productive.  The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines malaise as a "slight or general feeling of not being healthy or happy," which seems to routinely happen when the post-election euphoria wears off.  Whoever "wins," let's focus on what needs to be accomplished and how we will support the president-elect's efforts to get the job done.  That will be a tribute to our human endeavor and our country.

Just a quick check in this AM

I've jumped into the delightful fray of Instagram this week....and continue to churn out ideas on Sixty and Me.

Tonight, I'm going to put up my profile and introductory stuff on ello.co and reddit.

But, it's now the AM, and my workaday world beckons....so, at about 8 PM Mountain Time, I'll going to rev up the Thoughts Machine, and let the ideas flow again.  A lot of women sew, others knit, cook, or whatever.  I like to weave tapestries of words.

Till then, have a great day....and short work week.

Write to Live!!

I can't help but thinking about how Elizabeth Barrett's life went on a dramatic upward trajectory as she began to be recognized as a writer.  And, of course, it led to her encountering the love of her life, Robert Browning.  Life through words!

And there were a pantheon of others...Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Emily Dickenson...all whose words not only captured their lives for all time, but transcended it, to continue to inspire others for all time.  These authors found their voices in literature, and have, posthumously, helped others do the same.

My high school English teachers, Mrs. Doris Lang and Mrs. Elaine Conery (now Reece), were among the most popular with our high school graduating class.  A gift they gave us was an awareness of the power of words, whether they are to be used to craft a novel or a job-search cover letter.  Who in their teen years could have appreciated the life-juice contained in A Tale of Two Cities, or The Canterbury Tales?  Those lucky enough to be in Mrs. Lang's or Mrs. Conery's classes did.

My mother could have left this kind of legacy.  Back in 1967, for a very brief time, Mom wrote a column for the Valley News and Green Sheet, which later became part of the Burbank Leader.  As a tribute to Mom today, I offer readers a glimpse at the writing career Norma Cook had hoped to have:

I was in the seventh grade at the time of the brief run of this column, and can only recall that Mom soon got a terse letter saying that Sorry, it was fun while we printed your articles, but we can't use them anymore.  Our family pretty much gave her a collective shrug, and an "Oh, well, that's tough" reaction.  Her dream got dismissed by everyone.

Mom packed these away, and no one in our household ever mentioned them again.  I found them, yellowed but well-preserved in an album, about two years before she died.  By then, Mom was in the throes of her dementia, and didn't even remember writing them.  Along with the articles, I found a spiral-bound notebook, with the first half filled with working titles and story ideas...never to come to fruition.

I've often wondered what might have happened if Mom had experienced less indifference from our family, and gotten more encouragement to keep writing.  What if she'd found a writer's group with which to network?  What if the internet had arrived sooner for her to leverage as a promotional tool?  So sad that Mom gave this up...

For all those who write, even it's in a journal, I say treasure what you're doing and don't let anyone devalue your words and thoughts.  They are your legacy.

I'm thinking of the Biblical story of the fig tree that rotted to the ground after failing to bear fruit  Perhaps, in a way, that's what can happen when we don't share what's inside us.  Writing is, especially in this electronic age, as much a social as well as a creative outlet.  It can keep our brains active, and help us build connections to others.

Perhaps all words can be seen as forms of "social media," so keep on writing.

Directing Traffic

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, I'm back at my blog, inspired by my new participation in the great site, sixtyandme.com.  On the "Featured Contributors" page, I'm down near the end, to the left.  I'm also working with the admin folks to get more icons connected to my introduction, like Pinterest, Facebook (I'm working on a page right now),  and one I want to pay more attention to, Boomer Authority.

In about an hour, I'm going to be at my office, working my main gig as a psychotherapist.  After that, about 8 PM or so, Mountain Time, I'll be back around the social media circuit, and working on some more writing.  And please bear with me patiently, for any delays, missteps or technical glitches that may occur.  My skill is in writing, not so much IT.

This morning on goodreads.com, (another favorite site of mine) I found this:

I read hungrily and delightedly, and have realized since that you can’t write unless you read."  -- 

William Trevor

So, my friends, catch you later--and soon!  Have a great Tuesday.