Today I've been married 26 years!

I know right?  Tax day?  What was I thinking!

I do however, remember that day like it was only yesterday.  Oddly enough, I was never nervous, even though I walked down the aisle with wet nails!  It seems I've always been a procrastinator after all.

So what's the secret to 26 years years of mostly wedded bliss?

At the risk of sounding cliche, honesty and communication.  Realizing that no one is perfect and it's the little imperfections that make us human and yes, lovable.  Turns out they're called cliches for a reason!

Anyhoo, it's been a nice, quiet day and I'm off to spend the rest of it with my handsome, caring, generous, sweet and loving hubby!

I'm not old, just....need a tuneup or some such

Today was the both dreaded and anticipated doctor appointment.  As I mentioned in my last post, I'm starting to know my orthopedic doctor better than well, almost anyone.  After our pleasantries, allergies, vacation plans, etc., he looked at my MRI and scared the crap out of me.
Mhm.  And I don't scare easily!

He suggested I see another surgeon now.  As in "don't leave the office, I'm going to squeeze you into his schedule now".  Hm.

After about a half an hour, I met another seriously wonderful surgeon who gave me the whole good news/bad news speech.  The good news is I don't have to have rotator cuff surgery.  The bad news is I still have to have surgery.  The really great part though is that the problem is what's called an acromion.  I think.  It's supposed to be pretty much flat across the bottom and mine has a rather large section that angles downward and has been rubbing against the rotator cuff tendon and has actually caused a small tear.  Thankfully it's only a partial tear that hasn't gone all the way through, but it causes what he called "impingement" meaning whenever I move my arm in certain directions, the misshapen part is digging into the tendon and causing pain.

Tomorrow they will call and schedule the surgery which has a much quicker and easier recovery than the six to nine months estimated for rotator cuff surgery.  They'll make three small holes and sand down the acromion, do something with a tendon and I'll be good to go.  They'll also look at the actual tendon to see if it needs repair at the same time.

Recovery is looking like around 10 days in a sling and maybe two weeks not using the arm for anything major.  Color me happy.

Back to the bad news, I've still got two bum knees and a recently diagnosed degenerative disc disease which we'll have to address when the shoulder surgery has been completed.  That's a worry for another day!

Pssht, who am I kidding, I worry about things about as much as well, I don't worry at all!  What will be will be, right?

Falling Apart in 3...2....1....

So in spite of my solemn vow to never grow old, I'm struggling with the fight these days.  What happened you might ask?  Well, my brain says one thing, and apparently my joints and tendons are screaming another story.  Yes, screaming.  Quite loudly.

I can't remember how many cortisone shots I've had in my knees and shoulders, but I can guess that my ortho doc has a new Ferrari, or maybe a nice houseboat.  At the very least a couple of nice new jet skis.

The good news?  Ha!  I'm too young for knee replacements!  YAAAAAY!

The bad news?  They hurt all the time.  In spite of the shots.  The last one was a Synvisc shot.  That little stab was almost 1K.  Seriously?  The funny part is it takes it about two months to start working, then it only works for about three and then its back to the drawing board.

The dealio now though is with the shoulder.  When you can't put on deodorant without weeping, and putting on a bra is worse than the day after at the gym, you know you've got issues.  They did an MRI this past week and Tuesday is the big reveal.  There won't be a party.  Unless the doc decides that he can go ahead and bank ahead of time this go round.  That'd be nice.  I think?

Today the hubs and I were working in the yard and it crossed my mind that IF I have to have rotator cuff surgery, I won't be able to do ANYTHING for six weeks.  Now, generally, that might not be sooo bad, but the kiddo graduates the first week of May and her thesis project involves the Model Tobacco building.  Look that sucker up if you want, or I can just post a picture.  Let me clarify.  A MODEL of the Model Tobacco building.  To scale.  Then there are the cats.  14 of them.  With litterboxes.  Dinner.  Yardwork.  Graduation.  Laundry.  Projects.

Just count the windows....shoot me now!!!!

What on earth is going to happen during six weeks of Mom not being able to use her arm?  God only knows, but I'm not afraid to admit I'm scared.  I'll let you know when I find out if there's going to be a new addition to the docs house in the near future or if our house will continue on without a catastrophic meltdown.

#imnoangel

Although I've never shopped at Lane Bryant, I have to give them props for their new campaign.  I can go on a epic rant here, but I'll refrain.  Maybe.  If you ask nicely.  :)

When did a size 8 turn into a plus size?  When did all the "don't label me" people decide that everyone needs a label again?  What happened to love and acceptance?  Is it any wonder young girls and women struggle to find their place in this upside down, wibbly wobbly world?  (Yes, that was a Doctor Who reference!)

Last May, I turned 50 and discovered that I weigh more than I have ever weighed in my life.  NOW, this is how I think.  Several years ago I wanted peonies.  Instead of just buying the bulbs and planting them, I held off because I didn't want to wait two years for them to grow.  So what did I accomplish?  Instead of having a tiny peony in two years, it took me seven because I was too impatient.  I'm handling my body the same way now.  I got frustrated because I couldn't drop 10 pounds in a week so I didn't bother even trying.  Now I've got 50 pounds to lose because I was impatient and stubborn and yes, a little dumb, about the whole thing.

The Kiddo, who is 22 now, is blessedly content with her body.  In fact, she loves her big ol' booty and will tell anyone who dares to ask exactly how she feels about it!  I'm so thankful that she's found that contentment.  Sure there are things she would change, but she'd rather nom on Godiva chocolates than stress over a little bit of muffin top.

I'll go way back here though and tell you what society is doing to young girls.  VERY young girls.  When the kiddo was maybe 5 years old, I got my Victorias Secret catalog.  She was looking through it with me and turned and asked me "Mommy why can't you look like that?"  I have to tell you, it broke my heart at the time.  She thought they were beautiful and wanted her Mommy to be that beautiful too.  Out of the mouths of babes huh?  She didn't know about Photoshop or blur filters or lighting or any of that stuff, she bought the hype.  Now, are these girls gorgeous?  I suppose.  I think (honestly!) that EVERY woman is beautiful.  We all have our flaws, and we all have our strengths, and those imperfections and gifts are what combine to make us all beautiful.

Now that body-shaming has reached epic proportions, where do these girls go from here?  They're shamed if they're too skinny, they're shamed if they're too chubby, but who decides?  Everyone has their own ideas, so it's literally a no win situation.  I think it's time, no, PAST time that girls and yes, 50 year old women too, can look in the mirror and be not just okay, but happy with the image looking back at them.

The Fabulous Fifties

Over the past few years, I've found myself in a bit of a rut.  Physically and emotionally speaking!  The sleeping condition got worse, and as excited as I was to get my disability determination, I've been struggling with finding "purpose" in my new non-working life.  Along with a lack of focus, I got a little um, self-critical I suppose.  I found myself wondering why anyone would want to read about my life, or lack thereof!  For someone who sleeps most of their life away, what on earth could I have to offer to the world at large?  The answer to that has begun making itself clear!  ME!  I'm one in a million.  For all my flaws and shortcomings, I'm not so bad.  If I was a recipe, I'd be a doozy!  One part crazy, three parts psycho, seventy two parts sleepy, four parts loyal, two parts lovable, a tsp of sexy after 50, and a lot of spices and such!

The answer to this lull I'm finding is not trying to force worth, but finding it where it already exists.  I have value even if I'm the only one who sees it.  Obviously I'm not the only one, the kiddo is still amazing and loves her bat crap crazy Mom, and the Hubs is still sticking around after almost 26 years, so there's that.

Where did blogging come into the past few years?  Well, it didn't.  I lost something along the way, and a few times I tried to force a "comeback" but I wasn't ready.  I'd lost so much already, I think that deep down, I was scared I'd be rejected, or even worse, ignored.  When you're hanging onto your self-confidence by a thread, it's hard to hand the scissors over to the interblogs as a whole.  I know, I know, I wasn't being fair to the few who were nothing short of AMAZING to me, but oh well, reason isn't always a strong suit of mine.

Speaking of the kiddo, she graduates on May the 8th.  I can't even tell you how excited I am about that.  I've been thinking about the upcoming year in our lives and one thing we want to do is let her take a year off so we can just spend time together without any other interruptions.  She's been in school since she was 3 and now almost 20 years later, her school career is coming to an end and we're going to make the best of it.  She'll be starting a design blog, so we'll have blogging time together where we can work on our respective blogs and share knowledge and hints and fun and games with each other and our readers (I HOPE!)

With all that said, I turned 50 last year and well, this blog is about nothing if not aging, or trying NOT to age specifically, so that will be my focus in the future.  I'm not changing the name or the subject matter, not even the look and feel of the blog, I'll just be picking up where I left off and making this something that I can do with the kiddo as long as she's here and it'll be something for me to do if or when she eventually flutters out of the nest!  She swears she's going to stay home until she's 30, and then build us a house together, so here's hoping for that.

Let's make this happen shall we?  Let me know if you're still here!  ROLL CALL!!!!!

A Mama Kitty's Work Is Never Done

After seven years and I can't even tell you how much money, I finally managed to have a grand total of 43 stray and feral cats in our neighborhood spayed and neutered.  Managed to find homes for 27 of those.  I'm left with way too many I care for every day, and my neighbor takes care of three.  I can tell you it's been hard work, but rewarding.  Unfortunately during those years I had to bury far too many of those little babies.  Living on a somewhat main road wasn't good for a feral colony I can tell you that.  

I thought that those days were over.  Ha!  Today, while out working in the yard, a neighbor stops by and asks me if I know anyone looking for a cat.  Apparently someone dumped this little girl off down the street from our house and she's been hanging out in the woods and in a neighbors drainage ditch.  Nothing doing but I drag the family down there to check it out.  I tool some photographs and managed to run into the young lady helping to take care of her.  Both were sweet as can be, and the little cat was just adorable.  Very loving, obviously wanting more than a ditch and a little spot in the woods for a home.  

I can't for the life of me imagine why someone would just dump their cat.  Feral cats know what to do to survive.  The ordinary housecat raised in a home, is a little bit lost when they're suddenly just dumped out into the wild with no one to feed them or make sure they have fresh water.  It literally breaks my heart.  Anyway, I hit up my old rescue page and have a few nibbles on a maybe foster home for her until we can find her forever home.  

People, I can't say it loud enough or long enough, take care of your pets.  Spay and or neuter them, don't take them on unless you are able to, and if you find yourself in a situation where you're unable to care for them any longer, find someone else who can.  Please for the love of GOD don't just dump them and hope they do okay.  Look at this little sweetie and say a little prayer that someone will take her in and love her for the rest of her life!

Never forget, but let's do more than just remember.

So tomorrow is the anniversary of the single most horrifying event on US soil in my lifetime.  My stepfather is a WWII veteran so I know horrible things have happened throughout the history of our country, and to this day, I respect the hell out of the services veterans and current members of our military provide daily.  For me though?  9/11 is the black day.  I still have a hard time thinking about how blue the sky was that day.  It just didn't seem right.  Still doesn't.  I remember sitting on my sofa, unable to really comprehend that this was really happening.  I think I might have called my husband, and wondering what my daughter was doing at school.  If there were televisions there, broadcasting, showing the kids those horrors.  I remember wanting her at home so I could wrap my arms around her and just know that she was safe.

I remember thinking about all the children who were in those buildings, and all the children who weren't, but whose parents wouldn't be going home to wrap them in their arms that night.  I think about all the mothers and fathers, husbands, wives, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles, girlfriends, boyfriends, etc. who were lost to their loved ones that day, and for WHAT?  3,000 souls lost to punctuate a message of hatred.  I think that maybe before that day, I thought that this world just might be capable of living in peace.  One day at least.  Now I don't think so anymore, and it breaks my heart.

A few months after that day, our family made a short trip to NYC.  I remember standing there, those deep dark holes staring up at me like the blackened eyes of a nation.  The cross that still stands reaching out and somehow touching a part of my heart that was still broken and bleeding, and giving me, maybe not hope, but something I needed at the time.  Something I still don't fully understand.  I stood in front of the firehouse that lost every single man that day and I'm not ashamed to say I cried.  Full out sobbing.  I'll never forget that day either.  There were others there, tourists and New Yorkers, and I don't think it was possible so soon to walk by without being touched in some way or another, even for the people who lived it every day and probably still do.

Every year since then, our family has made it a point to visit fire stations, police stations, even a short visit to the Sheriff who lives down the street to take a little box of pies, or cupcakes, or something just to say thank you.  The first year, the table at the fire house was full.  Dozens of people had stopped by.  Over the years, fewer and fewer people made the effort.  Last year, we were the only ones who stopped by.  That makes me sad too.  With the current wave of police loathing and hatred, I think we've forgotten the people who are always there for us.  The people who have devoted their lives to keeping us safe.  People who, in the scheme of things, make next to nothing for their services, but live their lives never knowing when their light will be snuffed out, whose families never quite breathe fully until their loved one is home from another shift and they can exhale at last.

Tomorrow, some of us will think about 9/11 and the sacrifices that were made, but let's remember those here at home too.  Our military, the police and firefighters who do what those lost on 9/11 did that day, their jobs.  Take a minute out of your day to shake their hand, tell them thank you, tell them you appreciate them.  Buy a police officer a cup of coffee and a dozen Krispy Kremes or take a fire house a couple of pizzas or some cupcakes.  Be that person who helps them to remember that there are still people who appreciate what they do, and remember why they do it.  Let's do that something, not only to thank them for their service but to honor those never made it home.