POST-CHRISTMAS HEALTH CONTEMPLATION

I'm thinking a lot about health as this year ends.  It's been a challenging year in some ways and I was not at all well for many months of GI distress and migraines and general stress and anxiety and overwhelm due to that "little" (haha) relationship disruption I wrote about previously.  My therapist was rather alarmed at my lack of sleeping and eating, or leaving the couch. Sigh.  So, yeah, I wasn't taking very good care of myself there for awhile.

Now, being back on track emotionally gave me the space to take a look at my physical symptoms and decide to do something different, like sleep....

This morning, I was up by 5:00 a.m.  Again.  Still, my Fitbit tells me I had a FAIR night's sleep, likely marked down some by not hitting my 7 hour minimum sleep goal, but hitting all other benchmarks for the sleep cycles.  So many variables go into the calculation of the Fitbit "sleep score", which has become my barometer for knowing if I slept well or not, instead of trusting my body and the degree to which I feel rested. 

Lest you think I'm the only one Fitbit dependent, a friend of mine made an emergency doctor visit after a period of time in which her Fitbit did not give her any sleep score at all due to being unable to gather enough data while she was asleep.  She first, wisely (haha), bought a new Fitbit but when that didn't solve the problem she was off to the doctor to have her heart checked. They sent her home reassured, and we all had a stern talk with her Fitbit for playing naughty tricks on her...and learned that maybe these tracking devices are not infallible.  Go figure.

Anyway, my Fitbit also sends data to my Medicare Advantage Preventative Health plan which gives me "dollars" to spend on gift cards, as allocated by how many "active days" (based on steps taken) and exercise classes, etc I take with Silver Sneakers or on my own, as well as keeping up on preventative medical visits and tests.  This year I've earned $160 to spend on gift cards and mine will all go to the Amazon option.  This is a mere pittance of what I'd earn if they paid for ALL my classes. (They only allow you to "claim" 4 classes a year!  Ridiculous! I take that many in a week.)  But I'll enjoy a few freebies from Amazon, so that's some motivation, I guess.

In addition to sleeping better, I decided to eat better too.  After watching the documentary (on Netflix -- check it out) "Forks Over Knives",  I started in early November to eat a mostly plant-based diet.  No land or air meat at all.  Maybe every 10 days or so some prawns.  (Holding out on a decision on salmon next year when it's back in season.)  For a few weeks I was vegan and ate no dairy and no eggs, but I've eased up on being that restrictive.  I eat those infrequently, but without hesitation.  And guess what?  I feel so much better!  I know it could be the relieved stress helping my symptoms, but I just feel so much better overall I can hardly believe it.   I'm sticking with it.

The biggest hurdle this holiday season, as every year, is my descent into sugar addiction.  I swore it would not happen this year, given my new healthful eating plan.  But it did.  Cake, cookies, brownies, pastries, candy, ice cream, mochas, eggnog lattes...oh my.  These are my drugs of choice.  I am powerless.

So yesterday, in a fit of disgust, I Googled "giving up sugar".  There are hundreds of "hits" for articles, books, documentaries, essays, ads....  I settled on two guides to start with:  "Beating Sugar Addiction for Dummies" (cuz I find those "dummy" books about complex subjects to be very readable, so I guess I'm the target "dummy" audience) and "Year of No Sugar" by Eve O Schaub, whose memoir writing is so funny and down-to-earth true; I love her.  This one is about how her whole family spent a year not eating any added fructose in anything!  I don't know if I can go that far, but what I've read about the way sugar ravages our bodies makes me want to purge 69 years of sugar consumption and get on the stump with a megaphone.  I'm going to start with just eliminating anything I know to be purposely sweet -- the aforementioned cakes, cookies, sugar drinks, etc.  -- and not worry too much yet about what sugar there is in my Dave's thin-sliced multi-grain bread.  I will leave off the jam though.

Like any good resolution-maker, I'm starting in earnest on January 1.  This will be VERY challenging for me.  Society uses sugar in so many ways that have nothing to do with nutrition (of which there is none) -- it's used to say "I love you"; "Let's celebrate"; "Feel better", etc etc.  Sugar is everywhere -- not just the hidden kind (read the labels!) but the obvious kind too.  There are whole cookie aisles! Whole bakeries within the supermarket!  I know!  I love them!!!

I am heartened, however, to realize I've already given up cigarettes (1982, but with a very occasional, like on average less than once/year "cheat", until 2011), alcohol (2011), red meat (sometime over the past 15 years; not sure when exactly), and the rest of the land/air animal flesh 6 weeks ago (OK, two chicken cheats) and now I miss none of it and don't feel weird or socially out of place (most of the time) with my choices.  So I hold out hope for this to be difficult for awhile (2 weeks is the typical 'withdrawal/craving' timeframe for sugar addiction) and then, hopefully, easy. (Easier.)

If you've gone before me on this sugarless path, send suggestions for not gnawing my fingers off.  I can't help but assume there is some trace fructose in my new Lemon-Rosemary Balm hand lotion and it will sound awfully good in a few days...I can see myself licking my paws like a cat, can't you?

At least, that's the view from here...©

PS:  I just checked my Dave's bread:  2 grams sugar per slice in the form of organic fruit juices to supply the "sweet".  Ms. Schaub would have eliminated this from her diet.  I'm not gonna.  Yet.  I get into trouble and have zero long-term follow-through when I go all or nothing on things like this.  Baby steps.

Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

WITH AGE...

In my mid-late 40's, I think, I was first diagnosed with "borderline" high blood pressure.  I was shocked.  I went on meds, was advised to lose weight, and exercise more, de-stress.  The usual.  When asking why my BP was suddenly a problem, I was told for the first time, "Well, with age...."

This phrase has prefaced so many medical discussions over the ensuing 20 or so years, I've come to anticipate it.

Cholesterol:  "Well, with age...."
Keratosis:  "Well, with age..."
Osteopenia:  "Well, with age...."
Weight settling around the mid-region:  "Well, with age..."
Knees aching on occasion:  "Well, with age...."
Dry skin, age spots, dull complexion, wrinkles:  "Well, with age...."
Interrupted sleep/waking early: "Well, with age...."
Blurred vision/cataracts:  "Well, with age...."
Hearing impairment: "Well, with age...."

You probably have a list too.

As 2019 comes to a close,  I feel like it's a full time job to keep my body going.  There are only so many hours in the day to do all I want/need to do, and physical care is taking up more and more of my time.  Age is only a number, but well, with age....the only way to manipulate that number is to attend to age-related changes in our physical health.

I do not believe in using age as an excuse -- we have a lot of control over how we age by attending to what we can to mitigate some of the limiting aspects of age and health.  But age is an explanation for why I'm suddenly at the clinic for things that weren't an issue a few years ago.

I had my annual physical in October and went on a higher dose statin for cholesterol and have to do home BP checks to see if my BP meds are keeping that under control....borderline for increasing the doseage.  I've lost weight and get more exercise than in my 40's but, well, with age...

A couple of weeks ago I had my annual dermatology visit for a full body check. I've had a couple of basal cell carcinoma thingies removed and one squamous cell spot, so I'm a candidate for constantly checking the vast expanse of northern European/Scandinavian white skin that I foolishly thought would "tan" in my 20's and 30's.  The minimal tan and maximal sunburns of those years have now come back to haunt me.  Once again I'll be applying topical chemical therapies to my hands and a couple spots on my face to keep the damaged cells there from freaking out and becoming something ominous.  This will be my third round of such treatment.  We also talked about a better skin care regimen for my face. (I'm notoriously lax in that area -- wash, slap on some drugstore moisturizer, call it good.)

This fall I had two cataract surgeries.  I am so incredibly amazed and delighted to be able to see clearly again, even at night, even when driving in the rain!  I had curtailed my nighttime driving to basically emergencies only and it was very limiting.  Now I am confident that on the off chance I have an evening activity (Well, with age... I actually prefer to be home most nights) I can see where I'm going and not be a danger to myself or others.  I hope this miracle lasts, even with advancing age.

Last week I also went in for my first-ever hearing test.  I have tinnitus (that annoying ringing in the ears) and had also noticed I can't hear a thing in noisy restaurants with all the echoing, clanging, music, etc in the background.  I also noticed I used to be able to hear my husband talking to me from a couple rooms away, but now it's just a mumbling muddle.  I was told both of these scenarios are very common, so I was reassured.

Then I had the tests.  I now have a new "with age..." diagnosis:  mild to moderate hearing loss.  This is mostly in the very upper registers of tone.  (I think they were employing a dog whistle and admonishing me for not hearing it.  I am not a Poodle!)  Not time for hearing aides, but something to re-test in a year.  Sheesh!

In the meantime, I'm to adjust my environment by avoiding those noisy restaurants, which I mostly do anyway; by talking to my "communication partners" about talking to me face to face; by using hearing protection any time I am around noise that is loud and repetitive for any length of time:  concerts, sporting events, generators, lawn equipment like hedge trimmers, lawnmowers, power washers, etc, even hairdryers, and blenders in the kitchen.  I've ordered the type of ear plugs musicians use that fit inside the ear and reduce decibels without reducing the ability to hear what one wants to hear.

What I'm noticing is that humility comes "with age..." as well.  I used to be so impatient with my mom about all the doctor visits, diagnoses, limitations, and adaptations.  My arrogance was such that there were times when I felt she just wasn't trying hard enough.  OMG!  As she started to age, maybe mentioning the changes she saw in her 50s and onward, that woman ate well, went for daily walks, did Yoga Sun Salutation every morning, strength trained with exercise bands, had annual physicals, took all her meds, did not drink or smoke, quit driving when she started to feel insecure behind the wheel, wore hearing aides and glasses....she did all she could and still ended up with vascular dementia in her later years and died a month shy of 88 of stroke, so at a certain point something will get ya.

But now she is my role model for taking responsibility for my physical body for as long as I have it.  No one gets out alive, but how we age can often be within our control.  It takes commitment, diligence, and an inordinate amount of time.  I'm looking at my calendar and figuring out how I can fit in my yoga practice, classes at the new YMCA, and walks in the 'hood into my already sort of jammed social and "work" (meetings, household duties, childcare dates, writing, etc.) schedule.  More and more time goes to the body, leaving less for other activities.  I also suspect I can be more efficient with my time and probably find a new schedule that doesn't feel like I'm sacrificing for my health.

With age one is better able to discern what is truly important (maybe not scrolling Facebook) and how best to live in health -- with acceptance, adaptation, grace, and humility.

At least, that's the view from here...©

JANUARY MISH MASH

Well. Happy New Year!  Yes, I'm a bit late with that greeting.  If January is any indication, 2019 will rocket by at lightening speed.  I may get two or three blog posts written, but don't hold your breath.  The days disappear in a cloud of good intentions.  Here's what's up:

NEW YEAR'S EVE: Hub and I used to throw big New Year's Eve parties.  A raucous racket would emanate from our upper porch as noise makers and cheers of 20-30 jubilant souls joined the fireworks on the horizon to greet the new year with friends and family.  This year the two of us huddled together quietly, kissed another year out and new one in, and watched the Space Needle fireworks on TV.  Ho Hum Perfect.

BUM KNEE:  Then Hub left on a 2-week Idaho snowboarding vacation.  Well, almost two weeks.  All went well the first week, but the second was a struggle as his bone-on-bone knee (and nearly as bad shoulder) finally, after years of nursing it along with cortisone injections, gave out.  He limped home three days early, sad, sore, and resigned to the fact that this is the year for a new knee.  He knows this is the end of his most joyful obsession -- screaming down Double Diamond Black Runs plowing through the glades of fresh powder with wild abandon.  The new knee will get him back on the mountain, but it won't hold up to the challenges he's enjoyed for the past 20 or so years.  (He didn't even take up snow sports until he was 45 years old!)  He'll be a "groomer" guy, which for him is a far distant second choice to his preferred boarding experience.  The past week has been a daily marathon of research and phone calls and setting up appointments for seeing knee replacement surgeons.  Onward.

FLIP THAT HOUSE: Son One and our DIL bought a new house.  Well, not brand new.  Old, actually.  A little fixer-upper.  Son One decided to use the slow season of the painting business to take the risk of diving into something he's wanted to do for a long time -- flip houses.   I was immediately nervous, being of the worry-wart persuasion.  I "what-if'd" the decision to death, but I'm learning again that my cautious nature isn't shared by all and seeing his excitement, determination, and happiness are worth a little sleeplessness on my part.  It's not my problem, none of it!  He's all grown up and my role is to cheerlead him on.  I'm so proud of all he's accomplished in less than a month.  Plus, BIG BONUS!  The house is right here in our neighborhood.  I can see it from my upstairs porch!  I take him Starbucks mochas and check in on the progress a couple times a week.  Hub has assisted with hanging doors and making dump runs to haul away the demo debris.  We are having fun feeling part of Son One's work life and he seems to enjoy our support and company.  So many unanticipated rewards from this endeavor so far.

WEDDING BELLS: Son Two and his fiancé are full-steam ahead with wedding planning.  Engaged in October, they initially said there was "no hurry".  But once a date was set (May 2020) things clicked into high gear as the wedding machine fired up.  They are planning a big, traditional (by today's millennial standards) wedding and that means booking a venue over a year in advance, beginning to go to catering "tastings", thinking about photographers, flowers, cakes, DJs, hotel room blocks for out of town guests, wedding gowns, etc etc etc etc.  I am not a fan of the hoopla that has become the modern wedding and I am appalled at the expense.  I have not been quiet about this opinion, but I was taken down a notch by my son who sat me down just last night and told me to knock it off.  They'd just had the same conversation with his finance's parents, who feel similarly to Hub and me. (We hosted a brunch for the combined families last Sunday, while the 'in-laws' were in town from California.)  It's a delicate dance, to try to counsel "the kids" to reign it in, but also to want them to have the day they want.  We parents don't hold all the purse strings, so really, it's none of our business.  I just have an opinion -- that I will now keep to myself.  Again, my job is to cheerlead my adult son, just like I am doing for his brother.  Plus, it will be a hell of a party and really all I have to do is show up.

ART STUDIO: We've seen a lot of the grand girls lately too.  Our eldest at 9 has grown frustrated with her little almost 4 year old sister for getting into all her things and "messing everything up".  She's very organized and likes to keep her art supplies, especially, organized.  They share space at home and here in the "Girls Room", a bedroom  I converted for them as a play space.  But I understand that at her age, she wants a room of her own.  So, Hub and I cleared out a nook in our lower level that had become a messy catch-all storage area.  It is now our gal's "Studio" and her sister doesn't even know it exists because she's afraid to go down to the dark lower level!  Sneaky, perhaps, but big sis is delighted and we had such fun together shopping and setting it all up.  Today, a school friend is coming over for a playdate and they are thrilled to be able to hang out in the Studio.

SWEETNESS: Little Sis was here was us earlier this week too.  She spent the majority of the time "cleaning" my kitchen sink and countertop, going through about half the bottle of my new lemon-scented hand soap in the process, as well as creating a few floods.  Well worth it, I say, to see her so happily engaged in "helping" grandma.  We also talked and laughed and sang songs and danced; had snacks and drew pictures.  At one point she stopped in mid-activity looked at me and said, "I just love coming to Grandma and Papa's house!"  Be still my heart.

STEPPING BACK: I've written about The Tribe previously, our group of 12 friends who gather monthly for socializing and a sharing circle, where we explore who and why we are the way we are and find insight, support, and challenge for growing in introspection and connection.  This group celebrated its 3rd anniversary this month with our annual review of how things are going.  Hub and I have facilitated this group for the whole three years, but announced that we are stepping back from that role now. It was a huge decision to make; many, many conversations and deliberations ensued. Our decision will change the focus and dynamics of the group, I'm sure.  We are excited not to have the responsibility, and a little concerned that the personal growth focus may fade away, which would be hard since that's so important to us.  But we are open to learning from others and experiencing what they will bring to the group.  Change is difficult...and exhilarating.

LECTURE SERIES:  Along with two friends, I'm attending a weekly lecture series at the University of Washington entitled, "How to Beat and American Demagogue".  The lecturer is fabulous -- knowledgeable, motivating, inspiring.  I appreciate the historical perspective of the rise in demagogues over time, how we got here at this point in history, and what we can do about it.  Gearing up for 2020!

YOGA TEACHER TRAINING: The other big event of this month was me starting my 200 hour yoga teacher training.  I've written about this in the yoga blog https://circlingthemat.blogspot.com 
It's a weekend "intensive" consisting of Thursday night, all day Friday, Saturday, and Sunday one weekend a month for 6 months, culminating in a 5 day mountain retreat in July.  Plus, there is homework.  I won't repeat details here (read the yoga blog!), but I will say it has taken up a lot of psychic space if not actual time.  I haven't done homework in like 35 years, nor really had to study an unfamiliar subject in about that long.  I'm hoping this is growing new neurons by leaps and bounds, staving off dementia a little longer.

CATARACT: Speaking of older person issues, I also was diagnosed with a cataract this month.  Vision is cloudy in one eye and night driving more challenging.  Surgery is on the horizon, but not until yoga training is over because the recovery protocol prevents me from bending over!  I've got Downward Facing Dogs to do!

I could have written a detailed blog post about any one of those topics, but the pace of life has been such that these brief summaries will have to do for now.  Hopefully I'll find my writing rhythm soon and be back to more regular postings.  For now, I feel I'm caught in a whirlwind of change -- stressful and joyful change.

At least, that's the view from here....©

AGEISM ALERT -- ACHES AND PAINS FOR ALL AGES

Thinking again today of what it means to grow older.   Our group of friends who meet monthly had some discussion and poignant sharing about this last weekend.  The youngest of the group are two people in their early 50's; the rest are in our 60's and 70's.  We are not without our (stereotypical for our ages) aches and pains, especially those of us who are older than those 50-something kids.

Amongst us all have been multiple joint replacements, heart issues, aching backs, bursitis in various joints, shoulder surgeries, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, GI distresses, eyesight issues, depression, anxiety, and general malaise.  I'm sure there are other things also going on that haven't come up yet, but will.

I know at times I sound like I am denying the realities of growing older when I rail against the ageism that dictates that advancing age means ill health and mobility limitations.  I don't think those necessarily go hand-in-hand, but I do understand that bodies change and systems don't work as efficiently as they once did.  This is part of the "ages and stages" changes we experience in life.

I also still believe that people of any age can be slowed by injuries and life circumstances and this has nothing to do with age.  Take accidents for example.  I know a guy a bit older than I who was hit by a car while riding  his bicycle and suffered a serious leg injury that kept him sidelined for many months.  This could happen to anyone.

Also, younger people who fall down a flight of stairs, for instance, might also have a "glitch" in their knee four months later and find the pain some days is worse, not better.  (OK.  I might actually have to get an MRI or something to see what's going on in there.)  Also, a person of any age might buy some new boots that seem super comfy in the store, but aren't the best for walking for three days on city sidewalk cement and end up with plantar faciitis that seems to have settled in for the long haul.  (OK.  I might have to do more stretching and icing more consistently.)

Are these age-related or judgement related consequences?  Not sure.   I just know that when I stand up to walk after sitting for awhile I look like I might keel over and I feel, well, old.  Old in the way I've been taught old people are.  But mostly I feel some pain, pain that anyone of any age can feel if they hurt themselves.  Then I don't feel old, just alive to what my body is experiencing.

So, I'm back to thinking that whatever ails us, whether age-related or not, we don't have to cave in to the "I'm getting old" excuse for everything that nags at us.  What does seem to be age-related, though, is the pervasiveness and relentlessness of all those little things adding up.  That gets annoying.  One thing after another....

Hub had his annual physical earlier this month and instead of sailing through with nary a flicker of ill-health, came away instead with referrals to three specialists and an admonishment to keep a close eye on his blood pressure.  There is nothing life-threatening going on -- we call all of the recommendations for further follow-up, "deferred maintenance" -- an old football injury causing a knee problem; old repetitive stress from baseball pitching days causing a shoulder issue.  Both will likely need surgery and will require significant healing time, putting him out of commission for awhile.   He will also join me for more careful attention to his fair skin, starting with a visit to the dermatologist, as well as possibly his first ever prescription medication for him -- to treat that blood pressure.  While none of it was terrible news, it was sobering to him to realize the excellent health he's always had was a gift he took for granted.  He's still more fit than most men his age, but he realizes he may no longer be invincible.  He gets tired.  He gets sore.  He only got to snowboard 30-some days this season instead of the 40+ he'd hoped for.

So, yes, I concede that growing older means all the decisions we made about how we used and treated our bodies when we were younger come back to haunt us.  The extra weight, the sedentary desk job, the wear and tear on joints, the things we ingested, the French Fries and pizza and ice cream, the loud rock concerts, the questionable partners (sex, drugs, and rock n' roll!), the quest for a tan, the shoes with no arch supports, the "forgetting" to floss...it all adds up and comes 'round in surprising ways to remind us of our mortality.

Maybe the gift of growing older is to realize we are not going to live forever and to appreciate every single moment of good health and vitality; appreciate our strength, agility, and balance; appreciate all of our senses working adequately, if not perfectly, and appreciate that no matter what is hurting, we ain't dead yet, so don't count us out.  Don't push us aside.  Don't make fun of us.  Don't assume a weaker body equals a weaker mind.

More damaging than a body betraying us is the idea of being seen as irrelevant.  During our sharing, that seemed to be the thing that brought most grief -- the idea that culture sees older people as stupid, slow, and objects of ridicule or pity.   And that, my friends, is blatant ageism at work.  Don't fall for it.  Resist!

At least, that's the view from here....©

Photo Credit:  www.pixaby.com

GIVING THANKS LIST

I recently was reminded of the importance of a daily gratitude practice.  I used to keep a Gratitude Journal back when it was recommended by Oprah and I always did as Oprah directed.  But as those things do, it fell by the wayside.  It may be time to start again.

I've had a hard time feeling grateful this month.  First of all I've had a cold and lingering cough for over a month that is just about to take me under.  Of course the election result actually did take me under for about two weeks, as I dealt with the raw gut punch of that reality every morning upon awakening.  I emerged from my coma of grief and disbelief almost a week ago to find myself moving toward determination and activism, if not optimism.  Last Saturday it felt like the fog was lifting -- or maybe I'd just stopped taking codeine cough syrup during the day.  Whatever.  I felt I could actually function again without spending part of every day in tears and despair.

So, on this Thanksgiving Day I give thanks:

1.)  I am incredibly grateful for the wise, witty, determined example of those who are walking this path of political outrage and determination with me:  Pantsuit Nation and Pantsuit Nation Washington Chapter are a constant source of online inspiration and support; dozens of columnists have written eloquently about the election -- the whys and what nows -- in ways that increase my understanding and serve as motivation and a reality check; personal friends have come together in community to share and support each other.  I hosted a group of women friends a week ago -- six of us sitting in my living room expressing outrage, fear, and grief, but leaving with a sense of not being alone and that we can stand and rise again; our Tribe of friends gathered at our house last Saturday for a similar time of sharing, then focused on what we are grateful for, which served to shift energy away from despair to hope; my FB family and friends who share and comment and offer counsel and support.  Say what you will about social media, it has its good points.  I'm thankful for this:  http://www.onbeing.org/blog/parker-palmer-start-close-in/9057

2.)  Aside from the cataclysm of the election, this morning I write in this damp dawn, watching the rivulets of rain on the window and am grateful for this earth that sustains us, for the food I'll eat today that came from this earth and for all of those planters, growers, harvesters, transporters, marketers...everyone it took to create a feast at my table.  I'm thankful for the life of the turkey we will eat and hope that 'free range' allowed it at least a little more movement in its brief life.

3.)  I'm thankful for my lovely home, which we use to seek refuge, to welcome friends, to gather in family; for the electricity that illuminates my desk; for the clean clear water that made my coffee; for the warm radiators that are heating my house on this cool, damp morning; for my stove and refrigerator and all the conveniences I have that make my life easier.  I'm thankful for my car that allows me freedom of movement and facilitates adventures and connections near and far.

4.)  I am thankful for my teachers -- those who broaden my intellectual horizons; those who know the ways of the body and how to keep it healthy and strong; those who hold my emotional upsets gently and give me tools for going on and teach me to radically accept myself and have some self-compassion; those who show me my true Self through meditation, yoga, and Kirtan.

5.)  I'm thankful for friends -- for those who know me and love me anyway, who have my back and offer wise counsel, astute challenge, and ready celebration.  I hope I'm as good a friend to them.

6.)  I'm thankful for my extended family -- sisters-in-law, nieces, nephew and their families -- reminding me that I am not alone in the world as the only surviving member of my original family.  Life goes on and family endures.

7.)  I'm thankful for the family I've created; incredibly, indescribably thankful for my family.  Hub my mate for 48 years, since our first date, and 44 years married; what would my life be without him in it?  My sons who will never, ever know the depth of my love for them because it is unfathomable.  For my daughter-in-law who is an example to me every day of quiet grace, determination, and humor.  For Son Two's girlfriend who brings him such happiness and who has joined our family with kindness and good humor.  For my granddaughters who are only the most beautiful, courageous, brightest stars in the galaxy.  I look at them and hold them with such joy, such hopes for their future, such confidence they will make the world a better place as they grow into their power and presence in the world.  They are my legacy and if I can influence them even a tiny bit with my passion for life and good works, I will feel my life justified.

8.)  I am thankful for my health -- physical, emotional, and spiritual -- all of which allows me to sit in this place of grateful humility this morning with the hope that I'll be here throughout another unfolding year, with its joys and challenges, knowing every day will be a day for which to be grateful.

At least, that's the view from here...©

ITERATING TO SUCCESS

I'm trying to figure out how to fit all the self-improvement activities into my life that I need to do to live out my remaining days upright and cognitively engaged in reality.  Both of those things are goals I've been grasping for my entire life, but at 65-1/2 I see the horizon fast approaching and while they say "It's never too late", that's a lie.  Sometimes it really is too late.  (I like adding the half-birthday thing in my age because it makes me feel like a 5 year old when stretching to the next age was exciting.  Now I don't think it's exciting so much as a testament to "made it through another six months...yay me!")

Whenever Hub goes away I'm like a teenager left home alone.  I am completely lazy, hang out with my friends 'til all hours (some nights close to 8:00 p.m.!), watch way too much TV (mostly MSNBC and Frankie and Grace on Netflix, but still...), scroll through Facebook and read every political post, wander aimlessly around my house and gardens, and do absolutely nothing I said I'd do -- until the last possible moment.

For example, today I plan to unpack about 6 boxes of books that got put away in May when we had our floors refinished.  Some will continue to live in my house and others will go to book Heaven -- where I will sell their angelic souls to Half Price Books and live off my earnings.  It's the least those books can do for me.  They nearly bankrupted me with their original purchase prices.  I also need to do some weeding, pruning, laundry, bird feeder cleaning, banking, bill paying, dusting and vacuuming.  Additionally I have a date to do a Staycation Craft Day with one of the Shiny Sisters before we take off for a retirement party for the other Shiny Sister late this afternoon.  (I've written about this trio before:  http://myviewfromhere-donna.blogspot.com/2016/06/words-that-actually-came-from-my-mouth.html.)  I'm sure it will be easy-breezy to accomplish this list today.

But when will I fit in my Yoga Practice?  Weight Training?  Walking/Aerobic Activity?  Brain Games? Meditation Practice?  Massage Therapy?  Drinking 8 glasses of water?  Cooking organic, non-GMO, fresh foods from scratch that I purchase at the Farmer's Market?  Flossing?!?

It's no wonder that good intentions are drowned by a wave of responsibilities.  But I go back to the "Not that much more time to get my shit together" admonition and realize that I maybe could use my aimless wandering time to better benefit.

Every time I, or someone I know, has a health scare (more and more frequently, it seems) I make a solemn vow to do better at taking care of myself and being a support and example to my friends.  Yet it is so hard to sustain that resolution.  Then, along comes this book (yes, first make time to read yet another self-help book) called "Well Designed Life -- 10 Lessons in Brain Science and Design Thinking for a Mindful, Healthy, and Purposeful Life" by Kyra Bobbinet, MD MPH  It's brilliant!  Full of science-y information on how our brains work to sabotage our efforts and how to override that default.  Full of practical baby steps ideas for being successful in achieving our goals.  And a paradigm shift in thinking that affirms that no new behavior can take hold overnight -- she says it may take up to ONE YEAR to make a new habit sort of automatic (throwing out that old "3 weeks to a new you" trope) but still there will be an inner struggle, maybe forever, and you just get better at winning.

I've just sat here and made yet another list of the "things I should do to be healthier in mind and body".  I'm going to have that list beside me when I re-read Well Designed Life.  I will prioritize the list and "iterate" my way forward with maybe the top three self-improvement strategies.  (Sorry, flossing, but I'm already paying a hygienist to take care of that.)  The whole idea of "iterating" is so great.  She says you can't do it all in one fell swoop; but you can make a plan and then tweak the plan as you go to make it more realistic and doable.  You "iterate"just like a designer for consumer products -- each design improvement theoretically moves closer to an ideal until you finally have something that actually works for most of the people most of the time.  Iterating!  (I think I also like staying that word.)

I'm going to stand up now and close my laptop, walk to the kitchen and pour a big glass of water, head out to the garden and pull some weeds and ignore everything else cuz I've got crafting to do!  But hey!  I just iterated myself into walking away from the computer, drinking at least one glass of water, and getting one "to do" thing off the list!  I friggin' rock at this!

At least, that's the view from here...©

ADDENDUM TO THAT SUCKY POST

OK.  Yes, my post yesterday was a bummer.  I am tempted to take it down.  But not gonna cuz I still think connections get made when we tell the truth.  And that was/is my truth.

But today, things are looking up!  I went to my doctor appointment this afternoon, an Internist I've never met who is relatively new to the clinic I go to.  Mentioning this upcoming appointment to some friends over breakfast last Friday we traded stories about how we of a certain age have begun to feel ignored and dismissed, with providers spending the minimum time with us, on things only marginaly related to our actual ailments (that social welfare checklist and to resuscitate or not) and often rudely at that.  I decided, "Nope!  Not gonna happen again!"

I sat down early this morning and wrote a three page letter to this new doctor introducing myself, my expectations of our health care partnership, listing the things I wanted to address at our appointment and my preferences around health care philosophy.  I was clear, concise, assertive, friendly, funny.  I hand-delivered it 3 hours prior to my appointment with only about a 10% expectation that she'd get it and read it before I was sitting in the exam room.

Turns out she got it AND read it AND genuinely appreciated it!  We were able to zero in quickly on both my physical and mental health issues and create TOGETHER a plan that has me jazzed and hopeful!

My physical issues are real, not emergent, and most importantly not my fault.  I have hereditary factors that are causing some cardiovascular risk factors to creep up with age and I have agreed to a medication that will help mitigate these.  My mental health issues are real and not my fault -- again heredity plays a role when we sat and reviewed family history, going back a couple of generations.  I am not going on meds, but will seek a therapist who specializes in Mindfulness Cognitive Therapies for anxiety and depression.  There is a plan!  Yay!   Feeling hopeful.

Other observations:  Apparently is it no longer necessary for a doctor to actually touch one's body.  At my last two doctor visits I did not disrobe.  My doctors did not touch me or look at my naked body or even pay much attention to listening to my heart.  Blood pressure and pulse, that's it.  Alive and upright?  She's fine!

This is surprising to me, but good news in one way.  I sort of dress up to go to the doctor -- a throwback to a different age, apparently, as I looked around the waiting room at the sweat pants, dirty jeans, team jerseys, and scuffed, dirty, weird footwear.  I take a shower, do my hair, smear on some make-up and put on nice clothes.  This has often felt like a wasted effort since in the olden days the first thing we were asked to do was to don a gown.  But today, my doc and I got to discuss fashion and my cute jacket.  It was sort of a "Hey, girlfriend!  Lookin' good!  How ya feelin'?" exam.

Whatever....I feel better.   And this whole therapy thing is likely to be great blog fodder!

At least, that's the view from here... ©

FOOD ISSUES

Oh geez...I've become a full-fledged "one of them".  Have I written about this before?  Well, maybe, but now I'm way over the edge.

I have "food issues".  Oh, how I ridiculed people who complained of "too rich", "too spicy", dairy and gluten sensitivities (undiagnosed, so not "real" in my mind), too sweet, or not vegetarian, etc etc.  I'd roll my eyes and dig into anything put in front of me.

Then a dozen years ago or so I started to get a very dramatic reaction to rich foods and gone were the cream sauces. No more Fettucini Alfredo.  Not long after that I noticed a similar reaction to spicy fare.  Thai food, among my favorites, became a one-star affair instead of three.

I read two brilliant books a year or so ago, "Salt, Sugar, Fat" and "Grain Brain".  The first put me off any processed foods, the second was an indictment of gluten and most grains and carbohydrates.  I started to clean up my diet and let my eating choices be not only health-related, but also a statement about my opposition to being sold a lie by corporations that wanted me to be addicted to unhealthy processed foods for profit.

Four years ago (today!!!)  I quit drinking alcohol.  Two years ago I mostly gave up caffeine (now only a cup of half-caf in the morning and decaf any other time.)  For several weeks last fall, including over Halloween (a real test of my commitment!), I went sugar-free.

Then I fell off the wagon.  Grains and gluten snuck back in.  I started to have a nightly helping (or two or three) of dark chocolate with nuts and sea salt.  I reached for the pastries instead of the veggies at church coffee hour.

And then the headaches and gut issues this summer had my anxiety rearing its ugly head, trying to convince me I had something dreaded happening inside me.  Hub more rationally suggested a couple of weeks ago these symptoms could be diet-related.

Well, I don't eat hardly any meat -- no beef, just a little pork (oh, delicious pig!), some chicken and lots of salmon and seafood.  Pretty healthy.  I do love mozzarella cheese sticks and Greek yogurt.  Ice cream is a trigger food which I limit due to its addicting qualities.  I watch the carbs.  But the grains and gluten had snuck back in with the sugar and the ongoing dairy.  My weight started to creep up too, beginning to negate the 25 pounds I'd lost a few years ago.

So, here we go....elimination diet.  NO dairy.  NO gluten.  It's been 2 weeks and my headaches have subsided and some days are gone completely.  My GI system seems to be on the mend.  I've lost 2-1/2 pounds.

I'd feel happy and self-righteous if I wasn't so annoyed that this is working.  I know that makes no sense.  Of course I want to eat clean and be healthy.  I just don't want to be "one of them".  I want to eat any damn thing I please! But that is wishful thinking.  No one can do that and not pay the price in weight gain and disease or be party to the profit motive of Big Agra and its less than stellar track record with farm animals, pesticides, and creating addicting combinations of tastes and textures in fake processed "food".

So, I'll keep on, slowly and moderately re-introducing a bit of dairy in a couple of weeks to see how I respond.  I sorely miss my nightly Greek Yogurt and blueberries with a sprinkling of walnuts and cinnamon.  Oh....my....I miss it.  And a smidgen of dark chocolate can't possibly be deadly can it?  I'd like to reintroduce that soonish too.  The other stuff I find I don't really miss.

Except, well, for the occasional "special treat", like the teeny tiny slice of the Key Lime Pie my son and daughter-in-law made for Family Dinner this week...it would have been rude to refuse.  See?  I'm not perfect, but I do confess my sins of ingestion.

Bon Appetit!©

At least that's the view from here....

EASE ON DOWN THE ROAD

The word "exercise" is synonymous with high school PE to me.  I sucked at PE.  I was not athletic and didn't care to be.  I was not strong or coordinated and had no natural inclination for sports or games. I had no endurance.  It was torture.  And embarrassing.  I still feel that way.

Maybe that's why I was drawn to Hub.  I have a "jock" husband -- star pitcher (ask him about his no-hitter), game winning quarterback (ask about the quarterback sneak against cross-town rivals).  He still absolutely owns the double-diamond runs on his snowboard, at 64 years old.   He's a natural at most sports stuff.  For years he wanted me to like physical activity too.  He was patient and encouraging and unfailingly persistent. We tried hiking, kayaking, snowshoeing, jogging, walking, biking...I would start out with good intentions, then at his urging to go "just a little further" there would inevitably be that point where I was frustrated, ashamed, and in tears, vowing, "never again".

He has learned over the decades together that I will no more leap at the chance to do a challenging hike or take to the snow-covered mountains with him, than he will ever want to sit with a cup of coffee and write a poem or read for hours on end with a purring cat on his lap.  We've made our peace with this divide.  I will go for the occasional hike or walk or bike ride or kayak paddle -- at a slower, more leisurely pace than he would if he were alone.  But we are companionable about it now and I don't cry.  He will also often go off on his adventures alone while I read and write and sip my coffee (alas, no more kitties).

Yet, I know a bit more physical activity that gets the heart pumping would be a good thing for me.  How can I motivate myself?  This is a question I've been asking for most of my sedentary-leaning life.  The other day I decided to boil it down to what I like:  Pleasure, Ease, and Beauty.  So, how can those be part of my movement practice?

Pleasure:  Music -- I could listen to I-Tunes while walking.  Movies and TV -- I could watch while on my treadmill.  Coffee Shops, Art Galleries, Book Stores, Libraries -- I could make these destinations for my walks.  Peacefulness -- I could take a flow Yoga class that is a bit more aerobic.

Ease & Comfort:  I could walk/ride on flat terrain, eschewing the hills.  I could use hiking poles on (gently sloping) trails.  I could do outdoor activities only in pleasant weather.

Beauty:  I could do my walking/riding in arboretums, through pretty neighborhoods, along waterfronts and in forests.

I could dance -- a winning combination of heart-pumping movement, pleasure, ease, comfort and beauty.  I've gotten away from my Ecstatic Dance practice since I stopped facilitating this for other people.  But tonight is Ecstatic Dance night and the gal who took over for me will be leading folks in an hour of joyful, meditative movement to a playlist that will both rock and sooth the soul.

Maybe it's time I started to look at exercise differently; maybe it can be pleasurable, easy, and beautiful. Hmmmm….we'll see….

At least, that's the view from here…. ©

EXCITED. ALSO SICK & TIRED.

First of all….when you put something out to the Universe in a strong and declarative way, it will often come back to you (for good or ill).  In my last post I declared: "I am a writer!"  And guess what?  Within a few days, someone offered to PAY me to write for them.  It will be a new blog about yoga.  Excited!

Other than that, it's been a tough month and I am in a contemplative state of mind.  I always worry a bit that this blog is too close to a personal journal, then I have people tell me how much they can relate to my experiences and it only encourages me to continue in this navel-gazing vein, thinking we really are all in this life together and there may be only a few discreet human experiences, but hundreds of ways to interpret and live them.  So here goes...

I'm back to feeling a vague sense of queasiness a lot of the time.  I feel like it's the first day of a bout with the flu.  Tired, sort of tummy sick, a little head-achy, just want to moan and sit still.  Then it passes and I'm fine….until out of the blue it hits me again.  I spent a year like this not long ago and underwent every test in the book with no diagnosis (but I did lose 25 pounds!).  I don't really want to do this again.  I'm managing, but I'm frustrated and a little scared.  And my level of compassion for people who have real, debilitating, chronic ailments is at an all-time high.  I cannot imagine….

I'm trying to clean up my diet again; I'd gotten lazy and gave in too often to my sweet tooth.  I gained a few pounds and the carb cravings were back.  So maybe that's it.  I don't know; I really don't.  I just feel like whining about it, but that does no one any good and puts out to the Universe exactly what I don't want!  They say, when you are asking for what you want, to be clear and positive; don't say what you don't want:  "I don't want to be sick; I don't want to be sick; I don't want to be sick"…is heard as sick sick sick!  Say instead, "I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy"…and health and strength abound!  Worth a try.

Also, I'm in burn-out mode and all of the above may also be the physical manifestation of the mental and emotional toll of my usual habit of over-committing, over-extending, over-scheduling, over-worrying, over-working, overly-perfectionistic tendencies.  Sheesh!  I just can't seem to learn this lesson!  How many times have I been here??? (A lot, I tell ya!)   So, the Ugly Critic Monster has shown up to berate me for being a slacker and unable to keep up the pace, unable to let criticism and conflict roll off my back, unable to just forge ahead like "normal" accomplished and highly functioning people can.   I've taken to the sofa with my TV remote and crocheting.  I have stopped committing to things and am telling everyone I'm on a summer hiatus beginning June 1st.  I am only going to do EXACTLY what I want to do and that will not include any meetings, few social engagements, no obligations.  So there!

When I'm in these sick and tired states I tend to get sad and think about all my regrets and mistakes.  It's a nice wallow, but I get sick and tired of that soon enough as well.  Then I decide to fix me.  Again.

My latest "fix me" fix is re-reading Grain Brain (by David Perlmutter, MD) to get me eating right again (cut the carbs!!!)  And I've just started reading Buddha's Brain (by Rick Hanson, Ph.D.) to get me thinking right.  (It is not lost on me that all this emphasis on "brains" is the opposite of living from the heart -- a goal of mine -- but I'll deconstruct that inconsistency another time.)   Buddha's Brain, at least the first 70 pages, is an enlightening discussion of the evolution of brain development and the biochemistry of feeling states and how we actually reinforce, chemically and neurologically, that which we think and feel.  And, the great part is we can train and re-program ourselves to think and feel better!  We can pursue practices which literally change our brain's response to pain and suffering, anxiety and depression.   So, that seems like a good goal while I'm on hiatus from  eating every sugary treat within 10 miles and being overwhelmed with tasks and depressed about people not appreciating my efforts.  (Poor, poor pitiful me.)

Please (please!) tell me you can relate to this rambling.  Or if not….

I'll be back soon with the always uplifting and simply hilarious tales of another gardening season at IvyWood, which is the name I secretly gave our property many years ago.  It reflects the wooded greenbelt that runs adjacent to where we live and also the absolutely ill-advised decision to plant ivy ground cover over the slope behind our house.  It is generally ill-advised for me to even go outside, actually.  But I'm giving gardening another shot this year; maybe I should write a book about my experiences:  Green Brain.

At least that's the view from here… ©

CIRCLES OF HELL

In a crisis-type situation, I'm not that courageous.  Mostly I fall apart.  For awhile anyway, then I can buck up and get relatively brave and do what has to be done with some resolve.

So when, after an entire adult lifetime of normal mammograms, I got called back for "further imaging due to changes since last mammogram" I did not take it in stride.  Nope.  Not at all.  I have a couple of teeny tiny risk factors and I always hold my breath just a smidge about it anyway.

I had a long few days of of bouncing from "Awww….I'm sure it's nothing" to vivid scenes of surgery, chemo, hair loss, and death bed farewells.  And lots of heart-racing, sweaty-palm anxiety, and crying; yes, lots of crying.  I hid out in my house for 24 hours, not even getting dressed.  I do not believe I have ever not gotten dressed; lazing 'round in PJ's and robe is just not my thing.  That's when I knew I was seriously freaked.

I do wish I wasn't like that.  I see it as a weakness of character.  I so admire those who can, you know, just soldier on, or barely give something like this another thought; actually believing the idea that "it's probably nothing."  But not me.   I go from zero to worst case scenario in far less than sixty seconds.  Six is more like it.

So, today I got nicely dressed, did my hair, put on a bit of make up (because damn it! fear can be pretty!)  and made my way to the Comprehensive Breast Center for another round of tests, possibly to include:  more imaging (tit in a wringer time again), ultrasound, and MRI.  In that order.

The first thing I saw upon entering the waiting room was a giant inflatable pink ribbon hanging from the ceiling like it got lost from the Macy's Day Parade.  I wanted to pop it.  The waiting room was jammed and I tried not to look at the other women.   I didn't want to wonder, to see, to connect about this thing.  I AM NOT ONE OF YOU!

I got checked in and sat down.  Long wait. So I started to look up from my nervous "reading" of the newspaper (without really concentrating on one word) and look around.  A few women were reading and looking quite calm.  One sat next to her husband and he occasionally helped her take a few sips of something from a cup with a straw.  Another sat near the door, weeping a bit.  Another sat next to me, legs crossed, foot swinging in the air, gulping deep breaths.  She, too, occasionally wiped a tear.

I don't believe I was wrong in my assessment that the energy in the room was fairly intense with terror.  I wiped some tears too.  But bravery was also on display.  The silent journey each woman was walking may have been telescoped to the close observer, but the casual passerby only saw a roomful of women, each patiently waiting for her name to be called.

Mine finally was.  I went back to another waiting room, after disrobing from the waist up and being handed a flimsy (but flowery feminine) little short-sleeved gown to wear, "open to the front, please".  The room was freezing and I noticed all of us from the first waiting room were now in the second circle of hell together and all hunched up against the chill.  Then I saw a sign that said "Gowns for Your Use" with an arrow pointing to a rack of still flimsy, but long-sleeved gowns.  I stood up to retrieve one, setting off a line up of other women grabbing them as well.  I said it wasn't as plush as I'd like, breaking the silent tension, I guess.  We laughed.  We joked about being half-naked in an ice box.  We agreed we'd rather be at the spa.  We were bonding, smiling at each other, holding our respective copies of Women's Day and Oprah and Living magazines on our laps, again waiting for our names to be called.

When it was my turn,  I was ushered into the mammography room for more imaging.  Five more 'pictures' of my errant left breast.  The technician mentioned she wouldn't be surprised if I also would get a sonogram while I was there.  I did not take this as encouraging news.  Then I was led to yet another waiting room.  I saw there, again, the woman from the first waiting room, the one who I'd first noticed crying.  She and I smiled at each other and wondered aloud how many waiting rooms we'd share that day.

In a jiffy my name was called again.  No sooner was I in the hallway than the technician said, "OK, you can go.  It's all clear this time…just some tissue folds or something that now are all flattened out.  Thanks for your patience."

WHAT?????  THANKS FOR COMING?????  The floodgates sort of opened then, shocking her, I think.  I didn't wail, but the tears of relief flowed freely.  She said she was sorry I had been scared; was sorry I had to wait to get in; sorry this is such an anxiety-producing, heart-wrenching thing.  She dropped the professional, "all in a day's work" facade and we hugged.

I love that the Comprehensive Breast Center does the work it does.  I am grateful for 21st century medical technology.  I am grateful for my healthy breasts.  And grateful for my life.

And I wonder how many Circles of Hell my sister travelers endured today... and will in the days ahead.  If I ever have to go again, I won't avoid their eyes.  Because I am one of them.  We all are.  So, I'll look right at those women waiting and try to convey, "Yeah, I'm scared too, sister.  Let's do this together."

At least, that's the view from here….©

SOLSTICE-LIGHT-WORLDEND-BIRTHDAY-CAKE-DOC

Happy Solstice!  The light is returning!  We are alive!  I had a birthday!   I love Costco Tuxedo Chocolate Mousse Cake!  I have a doctor's appointment today!

1.  When I was flirting with "Wiccanism" I latched onto all the Solstices and Equinoxes and pagan holidays of the earth-based spirituality that Wicca actually is, but  I was a "lone practitioner", so it was a lonely little foray into that flirtation with a personal spiritual practice that didn't have much staying power.  Yet the Winter Solstice stuck more than others -- I used to make the boys go outside with me, clippers in hand, and cut away at the fir branches, holly, ivy, and laurel and bring it all in to make swags and wreaths and "bouquets" for the house.  I thought it was great fun and really beautiful.  The kids went along with it when they were young (kids just want something novel and "fun" to do); not so much as they got older, but I still enjoy bringing the greens in and decorating with them by myself.  So, Happy Solstice!

2.  It has been raining sort of non-stop for ... I don't know... years?  Not really, but we have been enduring the usual winter wet and gray and gloom for weeks now.  It gets light about 8 a.m. and dark again at 4:30 p.m.  In between is a sort of light-to-dark gray "Twilight" (Yes!  Perfect for vampires!) that never feels like true daylight.  It is a challenging time of year for sun lovers like me.   But today marks the start of the (at first imperceptible) return of the sun.  Yay!  In 6 months it will be light at 4 a.m. and not dark until 10 p.m. and that will be so totally great!  Hello sunshine!

3.  I am confident that June will come again because the world didn't end today as predicted.  Studying the Mayan calendar has been all the rage for some time since the prediction of the Mayans, according to some interpretations, was that this was the day the world would end -- 12/21/12.  I didn't follow the prophesy closely enough to understand why...but I recall we've had many such predictions and somehow we keep on keepin' on, so there's that.   Plus, the Mayans should have been focusing their prediction closer to home and they maybe could have warded off the end of their own civilization...just sayin'.  World without end, amen!

4.  So now I'm 62.  That used to seem pretty old and significant in a way that had something to do with some people retiring then and collecting social security.  At least that's what I recall about conversations between my parents and their friends.  For me, I got to get into a musical performance at the local historic theater last week on the senior discount (begging to be given the $2.00 off a few days prior to my actual birthday...nice box office worker took pity on this senior citizen and agreed to honor it).  I also thought I'd get the Denny's discount now, only to be told by Son Two that Denny's starts their senior discount at age 55, so I've been eligible for YEARS.  Of course, 7 years of Grand Slam breakfast consumption might put one at risk of even making it to 62, so I guess it's a good thing I was confused.  That and I haven't been inside a Denny's restaurant in about 15 years.  But the lure of using my age to advantage is hard to resist.  Happy Birthday to ME!

The family was all here for my birthday dinner on Wednesday.  I loved that.  I am in love with my family.  Seriously.  Oh, there are individual irritations and worries and frustrations here and there, but when we gather for special occasions, we rock!  Best behavior abounds and smiles and laughs and good cheer usually prevail.  (Hmmm...now there's some sugar-coated wishful thinking...but it's MOSTLY true, honest!)

5.  We capped the festivities with a birthday cake, naturally.  We don't bake, but we do search for really good store-bought birthday cakes and this year's was stand out.  Costco Tuxedo Chocolate Mousse cake.  OMG!  Killer good.  Literally.  No one could finish their piece of cake after the lasagna dinner (calories be damned on birthdays!), it was so rich.  But I discovered yesterday...and today...that it is the perfect breakfast dessert.  Toast and mousse cake!  Yes!  The list of ingredients, starting with "sugar", goes on for a good long paragraph and I don't know, nor can I pronounce, all the words.  But I'm telling you, it is so good!  Once a year I indulge in this kind of thing and I trust my body to get to the detoxin' post-haste once consumption has ended.  Gnosh Pit!

6.  Speaking of health...I have my annual physical today.  I think I'm holding up rather well.  I had that bout of fainting episodes for no reason a while back that landed me in the hospital and caused me near constant "queasy" nausea and anxiety for about a year, but hey, small price to pay for the ability to finally lose the 25 pounds of flab I'd accumulated over time.   My last trip to Hawaii I finally stopped obsessing about how I looked in my swimsuit and didn't even delete all the photos we took!  But since I've been feeling better, I've been back "on my feed" as they say and the scale is starting to be my enemy again.  So, I did think for a moment this morning about wearing a cotton blouse rather than a wool sweater for the weigh-in at the doctor's office.  Yes, that's my "old familiar" way of thinking about how to cheat the  truth.  But then I thought... Really???  I'm 62 flippin' years old!  I'm done lying to myself.  I'm gonna eat some mousse cake, wear whatever I like, and read the numbers on that scale with acceptance and gratitude.

The world did not end, the light is returning, and I'm still alive!  Halleluja!

At least, that's the view from here....©