Gettin’ Old Ain’t For Wimps – And So It Begins

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Nov 242025
 

Getting old. It’s something none of us can stop. Oh, we can slow things down a little bit here or there but time DOES march on.

I know this. I know lots of things about getting old. I mean, hey, I took care of my Grandmom in hospice and my Mom when she was getting ready to journey on. I saw lots of things happening to them as they slowed down. Some of it shocked me. Some of it didn’t. So why didn’t I think these things would apply to me when the time came? Not really sure. The proverbial rose-colored glasses? Maybe.

Let me back up a bit. My 50s were my best decade. I had just been released from the surgeon the night before my 50th birthday and I was rarin’ to go!!!! I had been told I was dying, but now I was strong, active, felt like I could conquer anything that had the audacity to jump in my way and I was just happy with life.

I started noticing a few things when I turned 60. I was forced to slow down a bit. I had to read things two, three, four or more times before it would sink in. I really had to pay attention to the directions while doing things I did instinctively before. At first I didn’t see it. Then I did. Then I REALLY figured out what was going on.

Seventy brought with it more of the same and much more severity of the same. All of a sudden, I had aches and pains in places I didn’t even know I had places!!!! Yes, I knew I had some physical problems. The doctor had predicted I’d end up in a wheelchair by 62. HAH!!!! I wanted to spit out that line from “Elf” about sitting on a throne of lies. These little Hobbit legs had carried me for a long time and they weren’t about to give up now. Or so I thought. Turns out, the only thing wrong with that statement was the age, 62. I didn’t need that chair at 62 but, by 72, it was a different story. Still, not all the time. Just every now and then. I had my trusty cane, Virgil, to lean on. Figured this would be enough to keep my wobbly butt upright. But every now and then I couldn’t even do that.

I prayed, I yelled, I screamed. . . . whatever you could do I did. Things didn’t change much. There was no way around this aging thing. I had to learn to slow down and, in some cases, slow down HARD. Do I know how? Yes. Do I want to? NO!!!! I want it to be like it was 40 years ago. I can hear the maniacal laughing from here. Not gonna happen.

So. . . . it’s time to learn how to slow down, how to moderate things, find different ways to do the things I love and still can do. And that’s the point of this blog as ain’t none of us gettin’ any younger. If you’re of an age, come on along with me. I HAVE to adapt. Maybe you do, too. Let’s work it together.

For your enjoyment, here’s the famous “Slowly I Turned” routine from the Three Stooges. Slowly is how I do most things these days. 😂🤣🤣😂

Starting Over – One Year Later

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Jul 052024
 
That Fateful Morning

On July 5th, 2023, at approximately 9:30 in the morning, I dutifully hopped (HAH) up into my seat in Levi (our very large Nissan Armada lovingly nicknamed Leviathan) like I was going to the supermarket. Except I wasn’t. At the age of 70 years, 8 months and 9 days I was leaving everything I’d known for decades to start a new life. I was nervous. That’s a fib. I was downright petrified. I managed to hide it from the others in the car, did some industrial strength edibles (legal where we came from and where we were headed) and sat back for the longest ride I’ve taken in eons.

The ride should have taken 5ish hours according to Google’s wisdom. Google apparently doesn’t consider bumper-to-bumper traffic and dizzying mountain roads. It took 9 hours. . . in a car with three adults, one hyper, autistic 5-year-old, an almost hundred-pound dog, and as much crap as we could cram in every nook and crannie. Not something I want to repeat any time soon.

But at approximately 6:30 pm, we pulled up in front of the house we rented sight unseen from a distance of five states away. It looked just like the pics. And just to show what a great neighbor I was going to be, I fell going UP the front steps and passed out not once but twice, proving to the neighbors that I was capable of providing quality entertainment. A UPS guy going down the street, jammed on his brakes, left his truck in the middle of the street and ran over to help. Neighbors came running. My daughter panicked and called the paramedics. They were super nice. After making sure I was just a clumsy old lady and not brain damaged (debatable), they wished us well and left.

That Night and Morning

I didn’t sleep much that first night. We were on a very nice inflatable mattress. . . that leaked. Every hour or two one of us had to turn the handle to pump it up. I don’t think I would have slept well in any case. I kept rehashing the past year or two in my mind, the hunt for finding a new place to live before we were out on the street where we were due to the high prices of everything. I knew we didn’t have much time left. The money was running out. Then this house appeared in one of our desired locations. Then it was gone. They told us it was rented. Then I saw it again. Called and was told their renter backed out at the last second. Got everything moving and. . . we had a new place to live within a VERY short time. Everything went so fast my head spun. We e-signed the lease on June 17th and on July 5th here we were.

Waking up that first morning was strange. I didn’t know where I was for a split second and then it was like, “Oh yeah.” The first thing I noticed was that the air smelled really good. I heard the neighbor on one side leave for work. Good morning things. We only had with us what we could cram into Levi but you can bet the coffee pot was in there. Ahhhhh yesssss. . . .

Keep Going

A day or two later, my husband made the long trek back to pick up what I thought was a very large U-Haul trailer that we had packed before that fateful morning. Except it didn’t fit. . . not all of it. He ended up making four trips back. Every trip back costs me approximately $200 in gas plus the cost of whatever trailer we had on the car. We were trying to save money by NOT using a moving company. It ended up costing more, not to mention the wear and tear on certain old folks. NOTE TO SELF: Just hire the damn movers next time. Plus, moving is not a good sport for a 73-year-old man, not in good shape, who shouldered most of the moving burden. We were blessed with good friends who drove four hours to help us unload two of the trailers. Grateful.

Now

Today is a year since that fateful day. This place is an actual city, but a VERY friendly one. We were used to the back woods. Lots and lots of resources here. We’ve established ourselves gradually here. The people are phenomenal. They are friendly beyond belief, NOT something I was used to. So. . . is it home yet? Not really, but it’s getting there.

Starting over at 70. It CAN be done. You might do it kicking and screaming, like I did. If you need to go, though, step out. It’ll be okay.

Three Tips For Older Yarn Crafters

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Apr 182024
 

I’ve been knitting since I was five years old. My Grandpop taught me one rainy afternoon with 4 pencils and a ball of string. Yeah, I was going in circles even back then. LOL I found a book in the Five & Dime and taught myself to crochet two years later. I don’t think Grandpop knew what he created. I spent every waking moment as a child either knitting or crocheting something. All my money went to buy yarn. In high school, I was crocheting bikinis for all the skinny girls out of crochet cotton. Lining them, too! I knit enough socks to outfit an Army.

Fast forward to the present day. My age now starts with a seven and. . . well, that was then and this is now. I can barely follow a pattern. My arthritic fingers won’t make the intricate movements they once did. I still love yarn, but making anything that resembles what it’s supposed to be can be challenging. I had to develop some coping mechanisms or give it up. HORRORS!!!! So here are three tips for older yarn crafters. They help me. I hope they help you.

Two words: Stitch Markers

I can’t count a starting chain or a row of stitches to save my life these days. I simply lose track of the count. Stitch markers to the rescue! I have the kind that hook so you can use them on either knitting or crochet. If I need a long starting chain, I’ll put a marker on that chain every 10 or 20 (if I’m feeling lucky!) stitches. Makes counting and going back to recount much easier. These things are life savers if your brain these days has a lot in common with the spaghetti strainer.

Write It Down

Yeah, yeah, I know. We all think we can still remember. Funny. I do a lot of You Tube video tutorials without a written pattern so. . . . if I put it down for too long I can easily forget what I’m doing. Especially the ends and beginning of rows. I’m okay figuring out the pattern in the middle from what’s been done, but turning that row and starting the next one oftentimes goes in one side of my brain and out the other. I now keep some colored index cards at my desk or in my bag and I write down the end of one row and the beginning of the next. Just in case. You can also keep a small notebook by you if that works better.

Let the Yarn Carry the Project

I used to pride myself on elaborate and difficult stitches, in both knit and crochet. If I try it now, all I get is a big knotted mess. I just can’t do it anymore. But what I CAN do is buy fancy yarn. There are so many beautiful yarns out there, both cheap ones and more expensive, that have gorgeous patterns and colors on them. There are variegated yarns, speckled yarns, ombre yarns, sparkly yarns, hand-dyed luxury yarns and yarns that change color by themselves like Caron Cakes. Start using them. I now select easy stitch patterns with a one or two row repeat and let the yarn carry the day. Trust me. They come out looking beautiful and you aren’t ripping out your last gray hair along with your project.

Whatever you do, please don’t give up. The world needs us yarn crafters even if we’re a little slower and clumsier than we were in our youth. You can still make beautiful things. You just have to find ways that work for you. I did. Now it’s your turn. If you have any other tips for this ‘ole gal, please leave them in the comments.

Three Things That Suck About Getting Older

 Life's Little Observations, Musings, Rant Lite, Uncategorized  1 Response »
Mar 052023
 

Are you getting up there in age? Do you feel like you’re spinning the wheel on your favorite game show every time you have to pick your birth year from one of those dropdown menus? Yeah, mine is way down there, too. But before I start ranting, let me say that aging sure beats the alternative. So many were not permitted to get old and that’s sad. I’m really not complaining. BUT when your younger self was so diametrically opposed to what you are becoming today, well. . . sometimes it just pisses me off. Here are three of my top contenders in the “Things That Suck About Getting Older” category.

A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Lose

Dear God, what happened to my brain? I kept a family of seven running for years without a planner or reminders of any kind. I knew all their schedules, appointments, needs and it was all stored in my head. You know what’s in there now? Some giant colander and the holes keep getting bigger and bigger.

Case in Point: I’ve been doing legal transcription for over 30 years. I know all the key strokes by heart. Well, I did. I’ll be in the middle of something, go to reach for the keys to produce the formatting I need and. . . TILT!!!! What the hell was I doing? I mean, it’s THAT bad. And I think that’s one of the worst parts of this, forgetting things I’ve been doing for decades. UGH

Slowly I Turned. . .

For those of you who’ve never watched Abbott & Costello or the Three Stooges, Slowly I Turned is an old vaudeville routine that they picked up, along with many other performers. Slowly I turned, inch by inch, step by step. . . . and so forth and so on. I’ve inserted it down below in case you’ve never seen it.

Sadly, though, SLOWLY is how I am forced to do everything now. Me and my little butterball butt used to skip right along and almost run to do everything. Man, I was quick! People used to comment on it all the time, not understanding how someone my size could run around like that. But I did. Now? Hardy Har Har. If I tried to run anywhere or even race walk I’d be face down on the concrete. In fact, I oftentimes am face down on the concrete. Forget about heels and hot shoes. My footwear wardrobe now consists of fashion sneakers and boots (without heels).  ARGH

Packaging Is Evil

In my younger days I used to shred and rip with the best of them. No package could stand up to me!!!! Trust me when I tell you that they now have nothing to fear. I usually just hand the package to my husband and he opens it. If I ever have to do it alone, there will be carnage all over the floor as I take a knife and/or scissors to the damn thing!!!! And medicine? HAH!!!! Now to be perfectly honest here, medicines did not have the dastardly childproof caps on them in my younger days. And I don’t remember blister packs either.

Of course, the Tylenol scare of 1982 changed a lot of that. Yes, meds had to be made more secure but COME ON!!!! That blister pack looks like plastic, but I swear it’s IRON disguised as plastic. I don’t even try anymore. I just grab a scissors and slash and burn. Take THAT, Mr. Blister Pack!!!! And I’m sure we all know by now that any child can get into a “childproof” cap in about a half-a-second whereas it takes me. . . much longer. If I ever need that medicine in a hurry, start getting your outfits ready for my funeral. Nice bright colors, K? No black. UGH

There WILL Be More. . .

This is just what I could think of off the top of my head. There WILL be more, I’m sure. Day by day, sometimes hour by hour, I seem to be losing parts of my former self. However, I feel some of the best parts of me are still there and always will be. Hey, a girl can hope, right? 😎

For those who have never seen “Slowly I Turned,” here’s the Stooges version. . .

Shoes, (Not So) Glorious Shoes

 Rant Lite, Rants, Uncategorized  No Responses »
Sep 082022
 

It’s been said that everything old is new again. Boy, they’re not kidding!!! I just got an ad from Nordstrom. . . . yes, Nordstrom. NOT some fly-by-night retailer for the latest trend. Actually, I’ve seen these shoes all over the place. For those of us of an age, so to speak, remember these bad boys?  And for anyone who doesn’t know shoe brands, Sam Edelman is a luxury brand. I just went and looked. . . . those black puppies on the left are $150!!!!

I could barely lift my legs the first time these were out. Now? At almost 70? Who’s playing a joke on this ‘ole broad? Someone is and I bet they’re laughing. I’m not.

Yes, It’s My Age Talking

I like old shoes, yes, but not these old shoes. I like pumps, stiletto heels (even though my days of hoochie heels are long over), elegant shoes with maybe a jeweled shoe clip, wrap wedges from the 1940s and STYLE. I like Keds and P.F. Flyers in the summer. And, yeah, this is a style, but.  .  . UGH This clunky crapola can take a hike, in my NOT so humble opinion.

Who’s Wearing This Ca-Ca?

Go to any of the websites for the name brand clothing houses and you’ll find the answer. EVERYBODY! Well, everybody under the age of 50, at any rate. Are they comfy? Probably. I seem to remember they were. Do they add height to us short stacks? Yeah, they do. Am I gonna wear ’em? HELL NO! Unless I decide it’s leg day and I can’t make it to the gym.

WHY?

Are there no new ideas out there under the sun for shoes? I realize feet are a basic shape and probably most styles of shoes have had a go ’round in the last couple of hundred years, but. . . why clunky, UGLEE shoes?

So. . . just for shitz & giggles, I went to Google Land and typed in “ugly shoes in history.”  Some of these are ancient, but a few of them are contemporary.  Maybe I should change my opinion on those Edelman loafers, eh? SIGH Okay, okay. You twisted my ankle. Now where the hell is my Nordstrom credit card? 😎

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