What an unexpected view I am having from my 74-year-old perspective. I am looking backward and forward at the same time. It’s like driving with one eye on the road and one eye in the rear view mirror. I am organizing my blogs with the idea of publishing some of them. Time-wise they cover the last seven years of my life, but content-wise they represent a lifetime. It’s a lifetime of stories, people, adventures, cats. There is a lot squeezed into those blogs. So many changes. When I was younger I thought that at this point in my life I would be contemplating all of my accomplishments and be either feeling on top of the world or full of regrets. I don’t feel either of those things. Not that I don’t have delusions of gradure picturing myself on a whirlwind book tour, but at least I know they are delusions. I look back on a life in which I have learned to accept and deal with things I had no clue about in my youth. Struggles and disappointments, awe and joy, are all mixed together in a rich soup of feelings that have nothing to do with my “accomplishments.” It’s taken me a while to get to this point, and my journey isn’t over, but oh what a trip it’s been.
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![]() I love my doctor. He became my doctor a little over a year ago when I was randomly assigned to him after my previous doctor moved on. I was very lucky that he was willing to take on leftover patients due to the lack of doctors at the clinic that I go to. Today I had my annual Medicare physical. This is cool because rather than the usual 15 minute exam for regular visits demanded by insurance, he was able to spend an hour with me. He used that time well. To begin with he started by acknowledging the death of my twin sister. We just talked for a while about the circumstances of her death and how it affected me. Yes, this information was helpful from a medical standpoint but his empathy was real. He asked questions about what kind of support she and her family had and how I was dealing with this loss. I was able to share about how the pandemic made it impossible for me to be with her and how sad and frustrating that was. Next he checked in about my concerns. Sore shoulder, CPAP questions, flu shot, glucose testing and diabetes issues, all checked with efficiency and concern. Lab results looked good. Appointments were scheduled. I wanted to get the usual little old lady skin issues looked at but no dermatologists were available at the clinic because of Covid. It would have meant driving “over the hill” for an appointment, which is a curvy mountain freeway from hell. He suggested he could do it at a follow-up visit next month. Yay! I don’t have to stress myself out driving to see a dermatologist. We ended the appointment talking about death and spirituality. Really! I have never discussed this with a doctor before. We got a chance to briefly share our experiences and perspectives. I felt listened to, and I was happy to hear a young doctor talk about ideas that I normally only share with my oldster friends. What an unexpected breath of fresh air disguised as a doctor visit! Now I just have to get myself geared up for a colonoscopy. School started this week. I know this only because I have a friend who organizes a beginning-of-the-year luncheon for the teachers at the school where we both previously worked and she asked me to help. Mostly I don’t think about it much, but I have been noticing the back-to-school ads in the newspaper and on TV. Being retired means that I can peruse them with smug happiness, knowing that I don’t have to worry about when the school year actually starts anymore. This used to be the time when I would be in panic mode, trying to get my rooms organized and lesson plans worked out before the deluge of adolescents, with their hormones raging, invaded my world.
Unfortunately I still have “school dreams.” I know I am not alone. I have talked to other retired teachers who have experienced this phenomenon too. It’s been years since I have actually been in a classroom teaching, but my subconscious seems to go there anyway. It’s not as bad as those dreams where you find yourself naked in a room full of people, thank goodness, but I still dream about some of the frustrations of teaching. At the luncheon at my old school a friend who is still working reminded me of a dream I told her about years ago where I went into my classroom and all the students were slugs. Yes slugs, like the kind that wreak havoc on my garden, except bigger. That was definitely an unusual dream. More often, my “school dreams” involve being asked to teach normal students, but under difficult circumstances. I have struggled through nights where I was trying to teach a cooking class in the wood shop or where I was crammed into a closet-like room that was overflowing with forty kids working on paintings. Last night I found I was being asked to teach five different classes. This is really a teacher’s nightmare. Usually I taught two subjects, but there were times when I had art, sewing, and foods plus a homeroom group all in different classrooms. Every time the bell rang (which was about every 55 minutes) I would have less than five minutes to grab my stuff, throw it on a rolling cart, and sprint to another room and a different subject. I had to switch gears so often I felt like I was about to swerve over the edge, physically, psychologically, and emotionally. I don’t want to give the wrong impression about teaching. There were times when I contentedly pondered the fact that I was actually getting paid to do something I loved that fed my creative soul. It was a gift to watch my students happily embroiled elbow deep in paper mache or proudly showing off the clothes they had made in the school fashion show. But I spent 34 years teaching junior high, if you get my drift. It wasn’t unusual for me to risk life and limb breaking up a fork fight in the foods lab. So what do these “school dreams” mean? When I have these kinds of dreams I know there is probably something that is frustrating and overwhelming me in the same way that my former job sometimes did. At least I stood up for myself in my dream and let the principal know that teaching 5 different classes would make it impossible for me to do a good job with any of them. There is probably something I need to do to stand up for myself today. I have learned that my junior high teacher persona can come in handy outside of the classroom. Years of dealing with junior high students taught me how important it is to be kind and understanding, but have boundaries of steel. I think my dreams are reminding me to not let my frustrations and self-doubt get in the way of taking charge of my life. Recently I had a big retirement party for a friend at my home and it reminded me that I should do this more often. It’s good for me to entertain. It spurs me on to get my house in order in a way normal day to day living never does. Plus I have a tiny bit of an internal Martha Stewart and I love the creative part of planning and decorating. What made this party particularly great was that I had the help of a group of ex- teacher friends who have worked together on parties in the past. We are a well-oiled party machine. There is nothing like a group of teachers when it comes to teamwork.
Unfortunately I’m sure some of the guests who sat in those chairs left with large amounts of his hair attached to their clothes. They didn’t seem to notice, however, or maybe they were too polite to complain. My other cat, Kitty, hides when there are strange people in the house. Sometimes I feel like I want to hide at parties too, but not at this one. It was wonderful to see people I hadn’t seen for a while and the atmosphere was overflowing with warm cozy feelings of love and appreciation as we welcomed a new member into the world of retirement. My idea of what constitutes a good party has, of course, evolved through the years. As a kid it involved blowing out candles on a cake with friends and cousins looking on in awe. Being a twin, my birthday was always shared with my sister and the cake had two sets of candles so that we each had our own to blow out.
The first time I went to what I considered a “wild” party was when I was in college. I remember going to someone’s apartment and having to step over a couple making out on the stairs. I really didn’t drink at that time either, but I remember nursing something alcoholic in a glass while I consumed vast quantities of popcorn hoping it would minimize the effect of the alcohol. My parents would have been shocked if they had known I had gone to a party like that. I was kind of shocked that I went to a party like that.
I am happy that as we have aged, my friends have moved on from gatherings where volleyball was the main attraction. Thank goodness it's been decades since a party involved playing a sport as opposed to watching one. I was always a klutz at volleyball or anything athletic. I enjoy the fact that the ability to sit and stand are the only physical requirements for entertaining at this stage of my life. ![]() The cat killed my computer. I knew it was only a matter of time before it happened. My cat Mario likes to hop up on furniture and push things to the ground as he circles around creating a napping nest. The other morning I found my laptop suspiciously lying on the floor. I must have left it somewhat precariously perched on the end table next to my recliner where it was vulnerable to a giant misplaced cat leap. It’s happened before but I was lucky no damage was done in the past. Unfortunately my luck ran out. Thank God the basic mechanics of my computer are OK and I can still write my blog, but there is a very annoying problem with the computer screen. All the solid black areas are now pixelated red. It gives me a headache to look at them. I adjusted the background colors so it is not as annoying but it looks like I will be buying a new laptop in the near future. ![]() Does Mario care or even know what disasters follow him around? What is going on in his little walnut sized brain? I believe he is basically a creature seeking comfort. Who cares if there is anything of value on the end table if there is a potential for creating a comfy resting spot. What difference does it make if that chair cost more than any other piece of furniture in the house? It’s climbable. Feeling an overwhelming desire to throw up a fur ball while relaxing on the white bedspread? Go for it. There’s no point in punishing Mario for bad behavior. He is doing what cats do and he does it well. I wish I could go through my life ignoring the consequences of my behavior like Mario. But I am human. As much as having comfort-seeking as my main goal seems appealing, it is not a practical way to live. I must weigh the potential results of my decisions against the problems they could create. There is a part of me that battles against doing the things I know I need to do to stay healthy, like exercising and planning what I am going to eat. Somewhere buried in my gray matter is a large “comfort seeking” zone that wants to spend the day lying in the sun like my cats. I wish I intuitively followed healthy habits but I don’t, and now I have to consciously work on changing the unhealthy habits of my comfort seeking psyche that wants instant gratification without consequences. The irony of seeking comfort is that it sometimes leads to the exact opposite. I am not comfortable in my body when it is not able to do the things I want it to do. I want to feel strong and mobile. I know when I establish healthy habits they will give me comfort in a way that goes way beyond the pleasure of taking a cat nap in the sun.
Doing the play as reader’s theater was an inspired decision. I loved the way it made the performance work for senior actors. They were seated at tables with their scripts in front of them dressed in costumes so the characters came to life even though the play wasn’t staged with scenery and movement. They didn’t have to memorize lines or work out staging but they were able to capture the essence of the play. They used a narrator and sound effects to set the scene in somewhat the same way as an old time radio play.
One of the best moments of the play was when the person playing the Marilyn Monroe part broke character for just a second when she and the cowboy character who was in love with her were supposed to kiss. You could tell they weren’t quite sure if they were going to actually act out the kiss when she turned to the cowboy and said “Should we do it?” He reached over and gave her a sweet peck on the lips. It fit the moment and the play perfectly. Being in the audience watching the live actors fed my soul in a way no TV show could ever do. For me it was a true Hollywood moment.
I really don’t want to spend any more time telling myself negative things. I want to follow in the footsteps of those who believe it is possible to change your destiny by changing your thoughts. These are some examples of the black hole thoughts I have been having lately and how I can change these thoughts into positive ones: It don’t have time to do everything I need to do vs . I am making time to do the things I love I’m overweight and I don’t like myself vs. I love my body and I’m treating it in a loving way by exercising and making healthy food choices I’m afraid to even think about dating vs. I am open to the possibility of dating I only have 20-25 years left of my life vs. I have a whole new life ahead of me and I want to embrace every minute. “Thoughts are things; they have tremendous power. Thoughts of doubt and fear are pathways to failure. When you conquer negative attitudes of doubt and fear you conquer failure. Thoughts crystallize into habit and habit solidifies into circumstances.” -Bryan Adams, Canadian singer songwriter, musician, producer, actor, social activist ![]() I have been spending a lot of time in my recliner watching TV lately. I think it is an avoidance mechanism. I have been feeling like I just want to transport myself somewhere else for a while instead of dealing with everyday life. This is particularly ironic because I like to watch what is referred to as “reality” shows. Perhaps I like them because they are so far away from anything actually based in reality. Right now it’s “Project Runway” where fashion designers compete for a chance to show their work at fashion week in New York. It appeals to my Home Economics side. I like the sewing part and the fashion aspect of this show. As they get eliminated, Heidi Klum kisses them on the cheeks and bids them “Auf Wiedersehen.” A while ago I was fascinated by a show called "Married at First Sight" where three couples were matched by "experts" and married without even seeing their spouse before the wedding. I was like a deer in the headlights as I watched these couples struggle with trying to build a relationship based on nothing more than the fact that some supposed experts thought they were a good match. In some ways my life would make a perfect reality show. Various unsuspecting people looking for a room to rent are brought into the home of a “Little Old Lady with Cats.” It would be a more mature version of the MTV series “Real World.” I have actually had some TV worthy experiences with my housemates. I remember the woman who snuck a pot bellied pig into her room. I was asleep at the time it came in, but I have vivid memories of it squealing as it left, tucked under the arm of her boyfriend. Luckily she was moving out at the time. ![]() When I watch reality shows I surreptitiously experience things I am afraid to pursue in my own life. I can watch other people struggle and make mistakes and have conflicts while I conveniently avoid them in my own life. I hate making mistakes and I hate conflict but I am fascinated by the way people on reality shows deal with these things. Writing about this is good. It’s taking me out of my “Woe is me” place and making me realize I DO have a "Real Life" and I don’t need to be afraid to make mistakes. I have actually been willing to take some risks in the past and my willingness to share my home is a good example. I think it’s time for me to get out of my recliner and do the things I have been avoiding. As Tim Gunn on “Project Runway” says when one of the designers is having a tough time, I need to “Make it work!” ![]() I went on line to see what recommendations there are for maintaining brain function as you get older. There was general consensus that the basic healthy lifestyle of eating fruits and veggies, exercising, and getting plenty of sleep are important. Watching your weight was also suggested. I do watch my weight but that’s about all I do, watch it. I know it’s time to get real about the numbers I am watching on the scale. My research confirmed that staying in contact with people and engaging your brain with new experiences is a good way to keep your mind in shape. I hope blog writing fits into this category. One area I hadn’t thought about as affecting my memory is stress. Evidently being under stress is very bad for your brain. High levels of the stress hormone, cortisol, make it harder to pull out information from your brain's memory. It does make sense that if my brain is ruminating about solving other people’s problems, which is a main area of stress for me right now, it doesn’t leave much room for some of the suggested memory enhancing activities like learning something new and socializing. One website suggested using memory tricks. “To help with recall, post sticky notes around the home and office, or set reminders on your phone so you'll know when it's time to take your medicine or head to an important meeting.” Maybe my old tutor had the right idea. Now excuse me while I write a post-it reminding me to take a nap after I walk around the block while I phone a friend about getting together for a vegetarian dinner. ![]() I have been having quite a few “senior moments” lately. I wonder how much of this is just normal wear and tear on my brain and how much is a serious slide into senility. Here are some of the issues: 1. Forgetting what I am doing as I move from room to room in my home. I know a lot of people who have this problem, and it’s not a new phenomenon for me. It happened when I was younger too. I lose my focus when I see something new that catches my attention, like a dog who spots a squirrel and runs after it. This seems a bit worse than it was in my younger days. 2. Forgetting where I am going when I am driving. The other day I drove right past Home Depot even though moments before I had told a friend who was in the car with me that we were going there. I got almost all the way to Orchard Supply before she reminded me we were going to THE OTHER home supply store. Granted I was immersed in conversation (which I can’t remember anything about right now either), but it was less than a minute before my mind and my car veered off to the wrong store. 3. Forgetting to do an important part of a task before it is finished. I can’t even say how many times I have forgotten to turn off the pump in my bathtub that I use to recycle water into my backyard as a water-saving drought measure. Even though I tell myself I’m going to come right back and check it, if I start watching TV or go into the kitchen to make a sandwich, I lose track of that dang pump. An hour (or two) later, when I have to go to the bathroom, I find it still straining away trying to pump air. I have now placed a hat in my bathroom which I intend to put on my head when I start up the pump. Hopefully I won’t forget why I am wearing a hat. My parents covered the opposite ends of the memory loss spectrum. My Mom had dementia. She always recognized people and would reminisce about memories from her childhood, but new information eluded her. She would ask the same questions over and over, even though she had been given the answer a few moments earlier. She never could figure out how to use the TV remote control because it required a three step process to turn it on. For a while I had the steps posted by the TV but that didn’t work either. My Dad, on the other hand had a memory like a steel trap. We would be in the doctor’s office and he could rattle off the names of all the medications he was taking. I can’t do that and I am only taking two. Just weeks before he died he was working on his election ballot, reviewing the ballot initiatives so he could be an informed voter, and he was 101. I know middle aged people who are not as knowledgeable about the issues as he was. We would discuss politics and religion and all aspects of history, nature, and science. He was a walking encyclopedia. I am afraid I am a little of both my parents. I am not as clearheaded as my Dad but not as forgetful as my Mom. I have the potential to go either way. I just hope that I lean more towards my Dad’s side of the family. When I was in Jr. High I had a serious illness and couldn’t go to school for a few months. I had a home tutor and she was quite flakey. She was so forgetful that she had to safety pin notes to herself of important things she didn’t want to forget. I hope my future “Little Old Lady with cats” persona does not include the possibility of my going around as a human post-it with little pieces of paper pinned to my clothes like my home tutor. It’s bad enough that I have been driven to wear a hat indoors to help me remember to turn off the pump in the bathtub. |
Leslie Masona woman in search of her post-retirement future Guess what! By subscribing, you get notices about the latest Little Old Lady with Cats posts sent to your mailbox!
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WHAT IS A LITTLE OLD LADY WITH CATS - REALLY?
(from an entry posted on 5/1/2015) “I definitely fit some of the characteristics of a little old lady with cats: Retired - check, Single - check, Like to knit - check, Have cats - check. . .I do not want to get stuck in my Little Old Lady persona, however. In fact, this blog is a risk taking experiment in exploring and redefining what I want my retired life to look like.” Categories
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