Tag: aging

Limp About Town

Fifty-nine years and what do I know?

Apart from grey hair and wrinkles in tow

I’ve developed a limp and I’ve aches in my knees

That defy medication; I’m begging please

Just amputate everything south of my waist

I don’t need it anyhow so do it with haste

Before I have time to consider the loss

Of hips, thighs, legs, and those vaginal parts

I’ll still have my arms, my mouth, and brain

To write, rant, and think as I go slowly insane.

I’ve done something to my right hip which in turn is affecting my ankle. I’m walking as if I’m 102. It’s no fun. So, I turned it into this little ditty hoping it would make me feel better. So far, it hasn’t helped even a little bit. 

  



Lunching Alone

Eating alone
at a booth meant for four
I watch in envy the
gaggle of women gathering
noisily for lunch.

They are older than I am,
sixties and seventies,
but I would join them
in a heartbeat if they but
said the word.

Do they realize how lucky
they are to have
whatever it is that bonds
them?
I hope so.

  
Peace, people.

In Need of a Hobby

I’m going to rant for a couple of minutes. Bear with me, or don’t. I just need to blow off a little steam.

This afternoon I went on Pinterest in search of a new hobby. I know I’m a blogger and that should be enough of a hobby, but I have this desire to create something that I can caress or sit back and admire. My friend over at https://sanseilife.wordpress.com/   knits and sketches and still manages to blog. Maybe she’s a super human, but she gives me hope that I, too, can enjoy multiple hobbies.

One article I found on Pinterest looked promising. Titled something like “Hobbies for Women,” the piece began by breaking hobbies down as suitable for different age groups. 

First it detailed hobbies for women in their 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s, suggesting modeling, photography, singing, and so on. But when I read the next category regarding hobbies for “Older Women” I sputtered out a really nasty word. 

Note the first line under the heading “Hobbies for Older Women” and just imagine this 59-year-old woman’s reaction:  

ELDERLY!!!! How dare this probably twenty-five year old twit call women over the age of 50 elderly? And she thinks I’m going to be putting puzzles together and canning tomatoes? Heck, I still ride a motorcycle and dance like a wild banshee. By golly, I’ve got better things to do than play Mah Jong!

I’ve a good mind to beat her about the head and neck with my cane. 

  
Peace, people!

Ares

Red,

Inhospitable,

Waterless,

Sand full,

Storm-ridden,

Planetary 

Neighbor.

Visible,

Identifiable 

Even to an 

Untrained eye,

225 million

Kilometers

Distant.

Yes, I’d go

In a heartbeat.

Explore placid

Acidalia Planitia,

Marth Crater’s

Western edge, and

Ares Vallis. 

Alas, I am

Old.

Not astronaut

Material.

Perhaps, though,

In twenty years

Or so, 

Top-rate

Extended care

Facilities for

Elderly 

Dreamers

Might open up

On distant

Mars.

Sign me up.

  
Peace, people!

Undecorating Doright Manor

old me, out of shape
laid low by this holiday
undecorating

  
hips aching, joints creak
too much reaching and bending
Advil take my pain

  
finally finished
celebrate with Shiner Bock
crap! one Santa left

  
I went above and beyond the call of duty today. As a perennial underachiever I don’t say that lightly. Not only did I take down all of my Christmas decorations, but I also organized them, and designated certain pieces for Goodwill and others for the trash. 

I’ve been threatening to do so for the past ten or twelve years, but always managed to talk myself out of it just in time. Now I know why I put off this task for so long. It took me all day and now I hurt everywhere. Apparently I’m not in good enough shape to put away Christmas decorations. That might be the saddest sentence I’ve ever typed. 

Sounds like a great idea for a New Year’s resolution: I resolve to pay someone to do this next year.

Peace, people.

Forty Winks

we slept through the longest night
van winkle-like
forty years or forty winks?

yesterday we were young
unweathered
unfettered
maybe it was long ago
i can’t tell anymore

would we do it again
knowing what we know now?

ask us again
in another
forty years.

The Finer Things in Life

Potato soup and

Warm cornbread 

An ice cold glass

Of Borden’s milk.

Fuzzy kittens in

Cradled arms

With fur as soft

As the finest silk.

A child’s warm

Heartfelt embrace

I love you Nana

The sweetest grace.

The finer things

Aren’t steeply priced

When simple love

Will always suffice.

 

great nephew Michael and our youngest granddaughter Harper.
 
 

Feeling a little sentimental today, and oh so very lucky. (I borrowed that from my friend Janie, a lucky, lucky girl.)

Peace, people!

Thanks Spanx

My attention span’s grown shorter
With time’s relentless trudge.
Predictably, my waist has widened
As have my hips and stately bust.

With no hesitation have I turned
To undergarments stout and bold
For Spanx has kept my jigglies firm
While years have turned my assets old.

  

Note to Random Driver

Thanks so much for assuming I wanted to hear those nasty ass lyrics booming from your stereo this morning. Who knew that hearing “F*ck you B*tch!” yelled repeatedly to the boom, boom, boom of an overly tuned bass would be such a great way to begin my day, especially after a night of too little sleep and a morning of too much caffeine. 

I know it surprised you when I lowered my window and waved sweetly at you. Your jaw dropped as I mouthed, “Hey B*tch! How’d you know that’s my favorite f*cking song?”

Being a sarcastic middle-aged woman has its perks. 

  
Peace, people!

Hormonally Challenged

Some nights it doesn’t pay
to try and fall asleep.
I toss, turn, fume, and burn
and sometimes even weep.

My brain is heavy in its cage
too tired to engage in thought,
still round and round it plods
until every nerve is shot.

Physically I’m just a mess
of hot and sweaty limbs;
sticky breasts, and chafing thighs
turn nighttime hours grim.

Just once I’d like to fall asleep
free of worry, care, and pain,
yet I fear that won’t take place
until I’ve died or gone insane.

  

Peace, people!