I volunteered recently to help teach seniors how to use computers. Basic. First steps. As in, this is a hard drive, this is a monitor, mouse, keyboard, etc., and here’s the button to turn it on. Don’t be afraid of it – it can’t do anything without you. Relax.
The gentleman currently teaching the class brusquely confronted me, first thing, and asked, “What’s your background?” Dumbfounded, I said, I was self-taught, had been using computers for almost 30 years, and was good at working with people who were new to, and afraid of, computers.
I had the thought a couple of days ago that what makes me feel my age more than I think others do is that I didn’t have children. I never shared those milestones of a child’s life that make you think, “wow, they are getting older … and so am I.”
I don’t think I was aware of my aging self until about four or five years ago when it seems that suddenly everything just seemed to break down. A knee injury, a foot injury, crinkles at the corners of my eyes, and yes, this is gross, chin hairs. Continue reading “Spinning out into a bigger world”→
Union break. I’m half way through morning chores when I decide I need an iced coffee.
I can feel my blood sugar dropping so I turn off the hose and make my way toward the house. But, first I see a flower that needs to be deadheaded. Done.
Then, take down a hummingbird feeder that needs to be refilled — I’ll take it in with me, fill it and bring it out when I return.
Inside the house (I’m still at my sister’s), I pass the laundry room and realize the dryer has stopped and the load of towels have been sitting long enough to get a bit wrinkled. I wet the wash cloth and start them again.
Hmm. The cat box needs to be cleaned. It can wait. I need to eat something.
I pick up the cat dishes and on my way to the sink with them am thinking how the floor needs to be swept when I drop one of the dishes on my sister’s beautiful tile floor. Now I have to sweep the floor before I cut my foot or worse yet, one of the cats get cut and I have to figure out where the vet is.
I’m getting that crazy thing going where I can’t get anything done because everywhere I turn I see something that needs to be done and I can’t stay focused long enough to get anything done because everywhere I turn I see something that needs to be done so I can’t get anything done because . . . well, you know.
I sweep the floor and decide I’d better make that coffee and grab a nutrition bar at least before I faint and no one finds me before my sister and her husband get home late Saturday night.
Not that anyone would care except the hungry cats and the dead vegetables and plants. Well, and my friends who expect me for lunch at our favorite Thai place tomorrow and my cabin buddies at the first day of Camp NaNoWriMo tomorrow. (I still don’t know what I’m going to write. *freak out*)
I love that one of the Splenda packages I opened for my coffee said “If you can’t sprinkle something sweet, don’t sprinkle anything at all.” I’m pretty sure they were referring to Splenda and not my attitude. I’ll have to discuss that with my therapist.
Oh, my coffee is empty. I’m afraid to go downstairs again to make another. I’m sure to pass several things that need to done or open another Splenda packet with more sweet, sage advice.
And, the dryer is probably done and the clothes are wrinkled again and the cat box is still dirty and the humming birds have probably emptied another feeder and I haven’t refilled the first one and another flower is probably dead and I need to buy a cat dish to replace the one I broke and I think my blood sugar is dropping again and I hear Katie left Tom and poor Suri and I haven’t even watched the Olympics today and I still don’t know what I’m writing for Camp and it starts tomorrow. Is it too early to go back to bed?
I admire older women. I like the look of older women — wrinkles, eye crinkles, gray hair and all. Older people have a depth that shows in their faces and left untouched it’s beautiful. It’s something you can’t fathom when you’re younger, slathering on the latest age-defying cream and vowing never to look that old.
“Things are different today,” I hear ev’ry mother say. Mother needs something today to calm her down. And though she’s not really ill, there’s a little yellow pill. She goes running for the shelter of her mother’s little helper. And, it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day.” Rolling Stones/Mother’s Little Helper
Ok, so maybe I didn’t take very good care of myself when I was younger. I didn’t do enough sit ups, I didn’t floss twice a day, and I didn’t save for a rainy day. Sex, drugs and rock and roll were often my sustenance. But, I ask you, is it really necessary to be taking more than 14+ (I’ve lost count) medications a day now to make up for it? Is it really worth it?