Blog Jam

Spring arrives on the Avalon Peninsula

Do you ever wonder why the clergy of the RC still go around in dresses whenever they get the chance? I suppose I don't care enough to do research on this but, seriously, how can anyone take them seriously in their outrageous getups with eyeboggling headgear (Hello Ascot! Envious yet?) as they blather on and on about poverty?
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It was one of those moments at cards the other night. A regular player had a stroke and had returned after several months' absence. In fine fettle, I should add. He looked a bit gaunt but otherwise cheerful. I asked him how he was doing - "Oh I've had full recovery from the stroke,"he said, "But this week they told me I had cancer." I sympathized, appalled, said something about dreadful luck. For what does one say?

Halfway through our games, the facilitator came over with an envelope and handed it to him. "There's a $100 for you from the takings tonight. For the cancer." A few years ago I would have internally laughed a bit. Quaint country ways and all that. How cute these natives are, etc. But not anymore. I wanted to cry. I was so touched by the dignity with which he took it, as he bowed in gratitude to all of us, and tucked it away. Surely his burden is easier knowing we cared enough to give him a little pocket money for the bleak days ahead?
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I run up against myself sometimes. I was out and about the other day in a fairly untrammeled area, rough cliff edge, rocks, forging my way through primitive terrain. As I stood atop a low cliff with the dog barging ahead, I thought: if I jump from here elderbones might snap and no one would find me for weeks. I envisioned the funeral scene full of "silly woman, she leaped from the cliff and splatted herself on the rocks below." I turned and walked away. This is the first time this has happened. I've always jumped. Another concession.
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Don't you just love it when someone gets in your car (your gas, your insurance, your maintenance, your monthly payment) as happened to me today and then immediately complained it needed a good wash? I had a marvellous comeback though and I'll share it. "Yes," I said, "I know that. Would you like to pay for one for me?"

Concessions - Part Two

See Concessions - Part One here.

I love the little vanities observed in others. Particularly in women who are old enough to be my mother. I have one friend, not a shred of make-up visible on her face, hair au naturel, and her nails are always long and exquisitely polished in pearly pink.

I think I had my nails 'done' about five times in my life. A complete waste of time and money. They are chipped and sorry looking within about ten minutes of having them professionally manicured. I don't know how that happens and I'm at the stage where I don't care. Sweet concession. But I've always begged to ask: why does anyone bother?

I think one of the big concessions for me is driving. I can drive. I can drive at night. But oh boy, rain or fog or snow at night has me in panic attack mode. Reflections piercing the eyeballs. Those new blinding halogen headlights on cars. Speeding trucks pitching filthy water/ice on my windshield, legitimate fear of hydro-planing on the highway, accidents, the odd deranged moose venturing forth in the darkness, all of the above makes me white-knuckle the steering wheel.

Not good.

I think I'll be bunking with friends in town on such nights in future.

Concessions - Part One

Concessions to ageing that is. They slither in unannounced. Subtle changes, small accommodations. I resent some of them. I hate slowing down. But I find I have to. I've always walked fast, showered quickly, tossed the wet hair into a wash and wear shape and proceeded with my day.

I am more careful now. Ever since falling out of the tub and cracking my head off the sink I learn to be cautious. To hold on to something. To think about where my feet are going. It adds a couple of minutes right there. I eat breakfast. I had to train myself to do that as I never used to. I find I function much better with porridge or oatbran inside me. And I read the paper. Including the obits. Over the breakfast. And I meditate. And sometimes I will journal. And there's another couple of hours gone right there.

I find I get lost in my thoughts sometimes. Another concession. For I lose the odd word here and there and have to mentally flip through the internal file labels and extract the word. Sometimes it lurks hidden, misfiled. But it emerges later when I don't expect it. And I love getting lost in my thoughts.

What are you thinking about ?

Hawthorn and primroses and bluebells. In spring in Ireland. Was there ever such a scent in a boreen?

Innocuous thoughts as you can see. But lovely.

I never had the time to do that.

And then I plan lunch and dinner if I'm not going out. And there's always the phone. And this blog. And answering emails and often a bit of snail mail which I love (notice the increase in snail mail lately?) And a walk on the shore with Ansa. And some writing and some reading. And by the time I get really rolling into the day it is nearly over.

And I think, what did I do today? as I pick up my book or my knitting. And I look back and wonder how I ever managed with a full time high pressure job and the kids and the house and the animals.

And I ask myself what was that all about and why was it all so complicated and important?

And how easy it is today as some concessions are truly wonderful.

Concessions to ( BUT outweighed by advantages of) Aging

(The Cliffs of St. Bride's, Newfoundland. September 2008)

· Decaff cappuccino at night.

· Going to bed when tired and not fighting it with caffeine.

· Eating my greens even when I don’t particularly like them

· No more stiletto heels

· No more nighties, no more slinky flowing negligees, no more baby dolls.
T-shirts and pyjama bottoms with pockets rule!

· Getting up when I damn well feel like it with no apologies.

· Reading a book in one day.
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· Spending a whole day knitting

· No more panty hose (tights).

· Comfy bras.

· Saying no to invitations for events I don’t want to go to.

· Embracing my so-called eccentricity.

· Wearing coats,hats and gloves. No, I usen’t to. I hate excess clothing. But now I just get cold.

· Wearing special little snow gliders on my boots as falls now hurt too much.

· Writing well into the dawn hours if I damn well feel like it.

· Taking on jobs that appeal and rejecting the ones that don't.

· Not wearing makeup.

· Going to matinees.

· Seniors' Discounts (and I keep forgetting!!)

· One of the rarely discussed advantages of aging is feeling like that irresponsible child again, with the bills taken care of, less worries, a newly discovered sense of adventure and a feeling of possibility. Once one is blessed with health and a bit of cash. And I do not take either of these enablers ever for granted.

· Being surprised and thrilled (still) at my pension and OAS dropping into my bank account like magic every month. Like pocket money from a benevolent mama. And recently there was a one-time government bonus payment of nearly $1,000 to every pensioner in Newfoundland. Mein Gott! What a country!