Monthly Archives: April 2017

Stairs, schmairs

long-staircase-700673

Part of a sporadic countdown to 50.

58. (OK, I don’t know why, exactly, but seeing that there are just 58 days left of my 40s just made my heart skip a beat. Fortunately, it was just one beat – or there might be a lot fewer days of my 40s.)

I’m moving.

I made a list of a lot of things I wanted to do this year, my “year of 50.” Take a vacation. Check. Spend more time with friends. Check (so far). Lose some weight. Check (so far). Do things I’ve always found excuses not to do in the past. In progress.

But moving? Moving wasn’t on my list.

50 for molly3It certainly could have been. The longest I’ve ever lived in any one residence is eight years, and that was the house I bought right after my divorce. Almost eight years to the day we moved in, the kids and I moved out and into what is my apartment now. On June 1, I’d have been there seven years – making it the second-longest address I’ve had in my lifetime.

So, really, moving could have been a possibility. It just wasn’t at the time of my list.

Sure, I’ve often looked to see what was available in the area. My current building isn’t secure, my mailbox is out in the open and I worry about freelance and royalties checks “disappearing.” There’s no garage, no deck, and I’m convinced one of my neighbors is dealing drugs.

But I have always decided to stay. It’s a nice enough apartment, and really, for the price and the location – you can’t get an apartment that big anywhere close.

But the first week of April I announced I was going to get serious about finding a new place, and less than two weeks later I had a place and had given notice to my landlord. The new apartment is in a secured building, with a locked mailbox, and there’s a garage, deck and fireplace. I’m excited.

Then yesterday it hit me: It’s on the third floor.

I knew it was on the third floor – I mean, I had to climb the stairs to see it, right? But it didn’t really hit me that it’s on the third floor.

 

Why does this matter? Because I’m almost 50. My knees and my ankles and my legs are Almost Fifty. Who gets older and thinks, “Wow, I should move somewhere that makes me climb even more stairs that I do right now.”

Who does it? Well, me, apparently. I do. Apparently the thought of lugging groceries up to the third floor didn’t cross my mind, or carrying the 20-pound bag of dog food – or being dragged by the leashed 45-pound Lab, for that matter.

I just did as I do – I fell in love with the apartment, the deck, the view, the garage, the fireplace … and signed on the dotted line.

I guess that’s one way to get my 10,000 steps in every day.

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows

50 for molly3

Part of a sporadic countdown to 50

67. (It’s only fitting that I end the brief break from the countdown with 67 days to go – as in, ’67 was the year that really got this countdown started …)

There have only been a few times I’ve let my age bother me.

I was fairly traumatized by 25 because I was a whole quarter-of-a-century old. As a kid you don’t really think of your age in relation to a century, but 25 – that’s a different story. That’s a common fraction and you are that common fraction of a birthday most people never see. You’re 25 percent of your way to 100.

Thirty bothered me only temporarily before the actually birthday – but once it arrived I realized 30 wasn’t so bad. It’s like once you lost that “I’m 20-something” attitude, people started taking you more seriously.

Then the 40s came, and I wasn’t too disheartened at all. A co-worker was once amazed when I wrote a blog for work about having had to go to driver’s school – not because I shared my penchant for speeding tickets with the public, but because I included my age. But as I neared 45 – and my first mammogram – I suddenly started wishing I was younger. Or that they’d moved the recommended age of the first mammogram to 75.

Tools to Get You Through Your Colonoscopy.pngA new fear has replaced the mammogram fear, and I’ve made the irrational decision to talk to friends and relatives who have been through it.

At 50, it’s highly recommended that you have a colonoscopy.

Yuck.

From what I’ve been told, the procedure itself is simple. You’re given anesthesia, and you wake up an hour later and it’s over. But the 36 hours before it?

No. Just … no.

I was the recovery buddy for a friend, and saw how loopy she was when the procedure was over. Both she and another friend have offered to give me a ride to the hospital and be my recovery buddy after, but have both assured me they won’t be with me during the prep period.

“Trust me,” says my friend who just had hers in January, “you won’t want anyone there for that. You won’t even want your dog there.”

Oh. Goody.

Wanting to get a more medical explanation of what to expect the night before, I turned to WebMD (yes, I know I work in a hospital …), where I was cautioned to “stay in the bathroom — bring something to entertain yourself, like a book, television, or laptop.”

Ummm …

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

It’s not all about me (well, not always)

50 for molly3Hey all – while I enjoy making fun of myself and sharing all that is great (and not so great) about approaching 50, I’d love to hear some of your age issues – all for a possible post to be included in this series (unless you want to share just with me …).

What did you look forward to? What did you dread? What did you find out about turning a certain age that you didn’t know? Funny stories? Embarrassing moments? Be brave – share!

Send me stories, photos, anything you want to share – pourmesomewhine@gmail.com.

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Some things get better – right?

50 for molly3

Part of an ongoing-but-irregular countdown to 50.

75. Everyone talks about how things start to get more difficult as you age: losing weight, exercising, reading without glasses, finding your car keys, remembering just why it is you walked into a room or opened a closet door. I get all those – and fully agree with all of them.

But there are a few things I really hope get easier as we age.

  • Budgeting money – I’ve never been a financial whiz, to be sure, but learning to live on a budget – and to say “no” to myself – has become a priority to me since my divorce 15 years ago.┬áPart of it comes from the fact that until three years ago, I didn’t have any credit cards – we gave them up as part of the divorce proceeding (never mind) and I never got another one until recently. Truly living on what you have is an eye-opening experience. I’ll admit to splurging a bit when I finally did break down and get a card, but I’ve tempered that part of my brain with the, “but if we save we can go places!” philosophy (Ireland, here I come!). So far, so good. It’s still tight, I still cut things out of my budget to make room for other things, but, as they say, “You’ve come a long way, baby.”
  • Budgeting time – This one comes a bit harder to me. It’s no secret that I tend to spread myself a bit too thin (that came up twice in my performance review at work) and – more times than I’d like – I run late to personal events and outings. I think one of the reasons I don’t go to a lot of movies is because I worry about being late. Mostly because I usually am.
  • Dating – While this will certainly make a best-selling book someday, dating in my 40s was … interesting. There were a few relationships and an awful lot of awful lines from potential suitors (“I’m getting tired of the five-knuckle shuffle” or “Like most redheads I bet your [sic] built like a brick house”) or from those who I actually went out with (remember the gross, “I’d like to put my skin boat in your tuna chute”? Still makes my skin crawl.). I swear I’m hearing more bad come-ons now than I did before I was married.
  • Living – This one definitely gets better with age, at least I think so. I gave up home ownership seven years ago and really, really like renting – the idea of someone else picking up the tab when the water heater dies, or the air conditioning goes out is quite appealing. And right now I’m in the middle of another transition – moving from a building where I’m kind of embarrassed to have first-time guests visit – the smell of marijuana is overpowering, litter in the yard is off-putting, the broken front door and burned-out hall lights slum-looking – to a secure building where, theoretically, “shit gets done.” Living better to me also means enjoying life, being happy – you never know when you won’t get another tomorrow, so enjoy today. That’s what I try to do. Live with no regrets.
  • Finally figuring out why I really did go into that room – Yeah, I doubt I’ll figure that one out, either.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Apparently my mom is worried

Part of a countdown to 50.

79. I remember growing up watching certain sitcoms and watching single women – think Rhoda or Mary Tyler Moore, for those of you old enough – get calls from their mothers admonishing them for being single.

When my own mother confided that she was proud of me for my strength in being a single mom and moving to a new place and raising my two kids virtually on my own, I remembered those shows and thought, “That’s awesome. My mom won’t be like that. She thinks I’ve got this.”

carrie-bradshaw

How I picture my single life …

This week, though, she’s changed her tune. We were on the phone one night and she told me how much she enjoyed talking to me, and that she often thought about calling but “I don’t want to bother you, I know you’re busy.”

“Mom,” I said, “you can call me any night. I don’t have a life, I’m available. I mean, I go out with friends sometimes, but it’s not like I’m seeing anyone or anything.”

She went silent for a good five seconds. (In Mom Phone time, that’s a fairly long silence.)

“You’re not seeing anyone?” she asked. Another five-second pause. “Well, how do you feel about that?”

download (1)

… and how my Mom apparently sees it.

How do I feel about that? Ummm … fine? I’ve been divorced for 15 years, and have spent only a total

of eight of those years in various relationships. “Single” is a regular part of my life. Suddenly it seemed my mother thought I would be a total wreck unless I was partnered with someone.

I don’t know where that came from.

Suddenly I think my mom is worried that my turning 50 alone means I’m going to be an old maid.

Hey, Mom, it’s OK. I’ve got this.

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized