Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Third Try

It is not easy to get these written. The problem is, I want them to be perfect but I always find mistakes. So, I need to fix them and the program won't because.....I don't know why it won't edit. So I erase the whole thing. By then I am so ticked, I don't want to write.
During this hot spell, I read in the paper that research shows that "if you are over 65, heat is a special problem because an older body can't sense temperature changes so well. The problem is complicated by the fact that none of us think we are old." They got that right!
I was lucky enough in July to go to Orlando to see Nick Belton in "Hair." (He was wonderful and he does not know this story.) I was suffering from forest fire smoke and was coughing my head off. It had been going on for three weeks and three doctors. I thought, "How am I going to drive through the fire zone and not cough. I almost didn't go. After a certain age, women have "fallout" from coughing (laughing, sneezing etc.). But I went, well prepared, into the zone.
I had no trouble - until I got to the parking lot. I was drinking my usual, a large MacDonald's watery diet coke in a styrofoam cup, and as I grabbed my billfold to pay for parking, I put the cup between my legs. Unfortunately, the bottom of the styrofoam sprang a leak that gushed into the seat. My condition was localized "wet." I sat there in my puddle and considered the options. I couldn't go in - it was too early. I had no other pants - why would I think to bring a second pair of pants. I'm not so old I need a diaper bag. Whatever had happened, I had to get dry. Who would believe it was diet coke? I mean, a woman my age.
So I got out and assessed the situation. There in front of me was the hood of my car. Aha! I leaned across the front of the car to let the sun hit my fanny. That worked only until the parking lot started to fill up. "Mommie, look at that woman hugging her car."  Air bum!
Mildly concerned (panicked), I noticed these large, round concrete balls that would be perfect to sit on. (Think pure thoughts.) They were very hot from the sun so I decided to literally iron my pants dry. I moved from hot ball to hot ball to hot ball to hot pants to dry pants to "On with the show!"
(I know. I know.  But [the operative word here] no one could make this up.)
Today, at Winn Dixie, I decided I would like to buy some beer. The young man....a very young man asked me if I wanted the beer in a bag. In my best gangster voice I said, "Yes, put it in a dark, brown paper bag, kid" I'll be dipped if he didn't get a brown paper bag and asked, "Will this do?" The lady behind me burst into laughter and said, "He didn't get it. Oh cripe. I'm older that I thought."
Aren't we all?
But we know what's hot.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

The Reason Is

I am growing older. Maybe I have already grown. I never really thought about it. I never really worried about any age. Never. 30, 40, 50? Whatever.

So...I decided to blog about growing older and how I feel as it progresses. How I feel as I go through it, deal with it. You have to understand that if one ( me) is fortunate enough to be healthy, you feel pretty much like you always did. You say to yourself, "What is old, anyway?" Then, people begin to tell you.

For instance, right after I retired in '08, I thought that I should get out of education and do something else. I did not want to teach. I did not want to sub. I wanted nothing to do with a school. I checked into going back and getting a little degree in medical transcribing or something like that. Right out of the gate, a nice young man said, and I quote, " I can't believe you want to take a course at this stage in your life." "What stage is that?" asked I, knowing full well where the Wells Fargo Wagon was heading in his mind.

Subbing looked good.

And subbing is good. The pay is pathetic but I love "kissing it off" and going home after school. Teachers and Principals never get to "kiss it off and go home any where near after school. I usually teach 3,4 and 5 year olds at a public school Montessori magnet. They keep me informed about my oldness and and its effect on various body parts.

Early on last year we had a conversation about my neck.
"What is wrong with your neck?"
What's wrong with my neck? Was I listing left or something? I actually had no idea what they meant - I mean - maybe I had a spider bite.
"What do you mean 'what is wrong with my neck?' "
"Dr. E, it has little lines all over it."
"It does?" "Well..... my neck is old."
"Does the rest of you look like that?"
Does the rest of me look like that? "Oh my goodness, No. Just my neck." They smiled and said, "That's good."

OK. What was I supposed to say? That everything gets lines and wrinkles - or rusts as it gets old. That they will get old. They will have the same kind of neck? I should make 3 year olds suicidal?

I told them I was 112.

I decided to get a new doctor. I had to have a new doctor because I was perfectly healthy. My old doctor had no time for perfectly healthy "older" people and did not seem to understand that maybe we are healthy because we check in from time to time. Anyway, it made sense to meet the new doctor before I needed her. While waiting in the little room we all have to go to wait after we wait in the big room, I saw posters. For weight reduction? Not exticing. Ah ...Skin rejuvenation and various other products to fight aging. Erasing wrinkles! So I asked, "How about some information on "that." The Doctor said, "It's too late for " 'that.' "
Too late for that?

Is that a sentence?