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Tag Archives: middle-age

Shockingly Lame

I already used the title “Better Lame than Never,”  back in2011.  That is too bad, because it is almost 9 p.m. and I have not yet made my blog post for today.  It shall be lame.  It shall be late.  Shall I not make a blog post?  NEVER!

My husband and I are sitting on our deck.  Steven is attempting to turn on our party lights by plugging them in.  This is problematic, because the plug has a  cover that does not open all the way.  I understand that it is good to have a cover for outdoor lights.  There are things like rain and snow outdoors, after all.  But why put a cover on it that does not open all the way?  For heavens’ sake, just put a full hinge on it!

I feel  I must exercise caution in this, because of a thing that happened to me many years ago.  I was in junior high.  My family had a pop-up camper that my dad kept set up in the backyard most of the summer.  My sisters and I used it for sleepovers.  On this particular night, my friend Iris and I were sleeping there.

To turn on the lights, you had to plug them in.  It was quite dark by the time Iris and I made our way to the camper.  I found the cord.  I found where to plug it in.  I guided it carefully with one finger…

I screamed very loudly.

I recall having no control but being forced to make a very loud scream. I got  the light plugged in and learned a valuable lesson about completing a circuit.

Tonight, Steven got the string on party lights turned on with no physical pain other than whatever was occasioned by crouching down for an annoying length of time.

And that is the advantage of middle age over adolescence.

 

I Held My Shoulders Still While I Typed

People who complain about their aches and pains all the time are tiresome. Then again, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I just got back from a nice walk with my beloved husband and dog so had thought to offer a Pedestrian Post. We’ll see how it goes.

We got some blessed relief from the frigid temperatures today with highs reaching 30. I know that is still below freezing, but it didn’t feel freezing. As these temperatures had been predicted earlier in the week, I had been looking forward to a walk the past three days (since Wednesday, the last day a walk was miraculously possible). That was before the pain, the pain.

I am susceptible to muscle spasms, also known as a crick in the neck (no, really, that is what a physician’s assistant told me once). For the past couple of days I have had an alarming stiffness in my neck and shoulders. It hurts to move! It hurts to lie still! The only thing that doesn’t seem to hurt is complaining about it.

Nevertheless, dogs like to go for walks. I was determined that at some point Tabby would get one. The other thing I was determined on was that Steven would not have to shovel the driveway alone. It snowed like the proverbial sonofabitch yesterday. We got out prior to 7 a.m. and had at it. I particularly enjoyed looking down the road at the bare trees against the white-grey sky. I felt somewhat badass as well. Middle age ain’t for sissies, and neither is living through a central New York winter.

Steven worked from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. When he returned home he heated us up some coffee for us, and I whined and cried about my painful shoulders. He said it was warm enough to be getting a little messy outside. Perhaps a walk was not the best idea. I couldn’t wimp out, though. It is supposed to get frigid again starting tomorrow. We must carpe diem, as the coffee cup says (I actually don’t have a coffee cup that says that).

Steven nicely agreed to accompany us. Tabby was beyond excited as he changed clothes and we got ready. We only took a two block jaunt, but it was very enjoyable. The most interesting aspect of it was the irregular patterns of cleared sidewalks. Fortunately, we stayed on quiet streets so could go out into the road in relative safety.

When we returned home my only chore before the relaxing part of the day was to make my blog post. So this is it. I didn’t spend too much time complaining, did I?

A Wednesday Kvetch

It never fails: I avoid a Tired Tuesday only to run smack dab into a Wuss-out Wednesday. What, oh what is my problem?

Did anybody answer that or did everybody accept it as a rhetorical question or perhaps an unanswerable lament. Or perhaps you took it as more kvetching, perhaps with my wrist on my forehead (I can be very self-dramatizing). Whatever, it is clear that I have a problem. I have fatigue, aches, pains, blues, etc. Could this be middle age? Say it ain’t so!

I went running yesterday. In addition to wanting to build up my run time and progress toward my weight-loss goals, I thought it would make a good blog post. And it may have, if only I would have written it. I took my dog Tabby for a walk today, another potential blog topic. One reason I mention these things is to show you that I am so active. So if anybody was gearing up to say, “Well if you got more EXERCISE, you’d have more ENERGY,” they don’t have to bother. There’s always someone.

And speaking of middle age, can I just ask, where’s menopause when you need it? It’s getting cold in the Mohawk Valley these days. I could use one of them there hot flashes.

I guess there is no point to this post, although I am glad I got to sneak in my hot flash line.

Rocking the Tired Tuesday Run

Note to self: When you run on a Tuesday, so you can write about the run and not have another Tired Tuesday post, write the blog post as soon as you are done running. If you wait you may become too tired.

Well, never mind how tired I think I am. I ran and I am going to write a blog post about it. I ran Saturday but not Sunday. I had thought to run Monday but took my dog, Tabby, for a long walk instead. I know I won’t run Wednesday, because we are doing laundry (may write a blog post about that). So I thought walk Monday, run Tuesday (for anyone concerned about my getting enough exercise, Steven, Tabby and I all took a nice walk on Sunday) (for anyone concerned Tabby misses her walk when I run, she always walks my cool-down with me. A shorter walk, perhaps, but she seems OK with it).

Be all that as it may, today was an unseasonably warm day: in the 60s. I reminded myself all day that I intended to run, just to get in the proper mindset. I changed into running clothes right away when I got home. Bicycle shorts and a t-shirt. Woo hoo! That is my favorite running outfit. I took off.

I ran up to German Street and turned right, so the sun was behind me. My shadow in front of me looked tall and slender. Look at those long legs! In reality, my legs are short, even for someone of my meager height. They are fairly shapely for all that, if I do say so (and why not say so? I have low enough self esteem; let me give myself a compliment once in a while). As I continue into middle-age, my legs are perhaps a trifle less shapely than when I was in my 20s, but running will no doubt help. You go, girl, I told myself.

Only I wasn’t going very fast. My best runs are certainly not the ones I take after working a full day. At least it wasn’t a 10 hour day, although I used to run after those, too. Back in the days when I was getting the sweet overtime (NOT complaining; I’m happy to still have a job. Also, it’s easier to work for eight hours than for ten) (just saying).

So I shuffled along, trying not to feel too self-conscious. I mean, I really felt that I must look pathetic. Then again, somebody pathetic who just keeps going is to be admired. And there is every chance she will look less pathetic as time goes on.

I cheered myself up by looking at people’s fall decorations. Lots of scarecrows, mostly with friendly smiles. One had a pumpkin head and an especially toothy grin. I do love fall. There are still colored leaves on some trees. I saw one large yellow tree that was still full. Later I saw three smaller bright yellow trees with two completely bare trees in front of them. I like the look of bare trees too. I am quite the tree lover.

As I kept running (I realize that is a generous term for what I was doing), it did not get any easier, but it did not get substantially harder either. I ran for 25 minutes, matching my previous few runs. As Tabby walked my cool-down with me, I felt happy that I had run. For a middle-aged shuffle on a Tired Tuesday, it was not too bad of a run. I did not feel at the time that I was rocking it, but I realize in retrospect that I was.

Maybe in my 60s?

It happened again. I worked on two different blog posts while at work today (on a break OF COURSE) (I always have to say that), and I find I can’t use either one right now. I’m just too tired to finish them properly. So I guess this will be a Middle-aged Musings Monday on why I keep wanting to act like it’s Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

And let us consider Wrist to Forehead Sunday for a moment. It would be nice if we could designate one day of the week to get all melodrama heroine, woe is me. We could swoon onto the sofa, wrist properly to forehead, and wait for somebody to administer the smelling salts. And for the other six days of the week we could have out act together.

And by “we” of course I mean “me.”

Quite frankly, I thought I would have my act together well before I reached middle age. I had it penciled in for my 30s. I was almost 40 by the time I realized it hadn’t happened yet. Then I conceived great hope for 50. Almost four months into my 50s, I’m beginning to wonder.

There are compensations if one takes time to look for them. I am still the same bundle of ridiculousness I was in my teens and twenties — with grey hair and a considerably larger waistline. Oh, there are other differences, I’m sure. I know a few more things, I can do a few more things, I have a husband, I have a dog. However, I thing my overall level of ridiculousness has remained steady.

Only now I think it’s kind of funny. I can sit back, look at my own ridiculousness, and at least get a good laugh out of it. And perhaps a blog post.

Don’t Swallow Your Oxygen Gum

In my ongoing quest to find cheesy movies to write about, I watch some pretty bad ones. I try to make it all the way through them, just on principle. However, I think it is OK to write about a movie I didn’t watch all the way through, as long as I make a full disclosure.

Full Disclosure: I did not watch all of Battle in Outer Space (sorry, didn’t write down the year) (I’m not even sure I wrote down the right title; I can’t find it in any of Steven’s movie books). I don’t think I even watched enough to warrant a spoiler alert.

Steven and I tried to watch the movie twice. The second time, we weren’t even sure we had tried it before. The title didn’t sound familiar (I think I have established that it is not very memorable). On consulting the TV Journal before writing this, I learned that it was two weeks between attempted viewings.

Once it started I said, “Oh, yes, we started to watch this. Remember, the credits are in Japanese.”

Steven asked, “Is this the one where the guy goes up in the air?”

The scene Steven referred to is pretty much all I remember from the movie, and it goes way beyond “Waaait a minute” and into “Huh?” or even more vulgar expressions. A group of men (no women in this movie, another thing to dislike about it) are walking through a space ship, in outer space. Suddenly one of them starts to float up to the ceiling. One of his colleagues pulls him back down.

“I forgot there’s no gravity here,” Floating Guy explains. And they continue to walk down the corridor. On the ground! As if there’s plenty of gravity!

Excuse me, what? Just by knowing there’s no gravity they can act as if there’s gravity? It’s never explained. Not even some bad science crap like, “Push the button on your belt to create your personal gravity field.” I suppose some people would have found that harder to swallow than force of mind overcoming all, but I like an explanation, however spurious.

For example, I don’t know if anybody remembers a cartoon from (I think) the 1960s (I saw it in the ’60s) called Marine Boy. Marine Boy could function perfectly well in the water because he had — I kid you not — Oxygen Gum. I was about three years old (don’t sit there doing the math and shake your finger at me like I’m pretending to be younger than what I am) (I’m 49). I took things at face value. The only thing I found odd about Oxygen Gum was that Marine Boy put it in his mouth, gave one chew and was done. I did not have gum very often, but I knew you were supposed to keep chewing it.

I did not spend much of my young life pondering the inconsistency. I suppose it wasn’t too many years later that I began to understand the limitations of animation.

I don’t intend to spend too much of my middle age wondering what the makers of Battle in Outer Space were thinking with that gravity thing. The movie was dull, and there were not enough scientific howlers to distract me from that.

Perhaps I could find some re-runs of Marine Boy on the Cartoon Network.