You know you're old when ...

A million years ago when I started this blog, or actually "A Bead a Day" it was called then, I did it to advertise the jewelry I was making and selling on Etsy. There is still a link at the bottom of my blog I think, to my shop. My shop that is closed. I haven't made, much less sold, jewelry for quite a while. But I want to. At least I want to make some.

But my bead room is A HUGE MESS.

For various reasons I took 3 days off work which gave me a 5 day weekend - part of which I meant to use to clean up my bead room and get it usable again. 

So funny I thought I could do that!

Tuesday after work, I picked up my granddaughter from preschool and brought her home. Getting her out of her car seat, something I have done a hundred times before, I fell out of the back seat of my own car. But not only did I fall out - I fell out backwards, with my feet still in the car, and my arms and head - still in the car - so you know what was outside the car? Yeah. My butt.

Landing on asphalt with all my weight on only my butt and small of my back was .. well .. jarring, to say the least.

They say if you fall and everybody laughs you're still young. But if you fall and everyone gasps and asks if you are okay - you are very old.

There was a car turning onto the street and the driver slammed on their brakes when they saw me fall. I guess that means I'm old.

I jumped back up pretty quickly, mostly out of embarrassment but also because I had suddenly dropped out of sight and my granddaughter was yelling "Grandma! Are you okay??" Yeah, she thinks I'm old too, and she's too young to get the joke!

Needless to say I didn't do anything productive while home for 5 days. No bead room clean up, not even laundry. Sigh-h. 

And yeah, I'm okay. Thank goodness! You know, because it's frequently a fall that starts the decline in the health of the elderly. Ahem. But I'm good. Really.

What IS the average life cycle of a BetteJo, anyway?

NOT ME

A million years ago when the Internet was young, I put a Google alert on my name. My first name, only, then promptly forgot about it. At this point it's not clear to me how to remove it but I really don't care one way or another I guess. 

Surprise! Any alerts I have ever gotten have never been about me. That's an awkward sentence. But my inner grammar nazi is lazy as hell so it stands.

Lately though, I've gotten several email alerts letting me know that this BetteJo or that BetteJo has died. Hmmm. Who knew there were so many BetteJos? One thing is certain, most of them are quite old. Or should I say, were?

Of course they are (were)!! My name came from an old girlfriend of my fathers,(not an interesting story at all) and he was born in 1926. So not a name from this century for sure.

I'm not near death as far as I know, not seriously ill or even experiencing headaches. But is it possible that the average life cycle of the average BetteJo is coming to an end?

Do I need to be worried?

This old man ...

.. weighs 10 lbs!!  At the vet tonight the vet tech said - at 20 years old, to be gaining weight like this - just doesn't happen!  Whatever you're doing, keep doing it because he's doing great!

Only time in my life I have been praised for providing a diet of junk food!  Well, copious amounts of good, healthy cat food, supplemented by cheeseburgers and hot dogs.  Turns out this kitty loves hot dogs.  :)  

Who knew?

Cheeseburgers do a body good! ( alternatively titled - cat lady talks cat )

Riley is 20 now.  He's bony and cranky and sleeps a lot which is probably quite normal for a cat his age.
But recently he started losing more weight than the doc was comfortable with so I needed to address that.

His cat food has been upped to the point where he gets at least twice what the other cats do, and his reward for his Monday vet trip has become a stop at McDonald's on the way home to pick up a cheeseburger which he loves. Giving him a quarter tablet of an appetite stimulant in the morning is a regular thing, and a package of hot dogs in the fridge are there just for Riley. He gets to lick the ice cream bowl and anything that has contained some kind of cheese product. He is enjoying his old age!

One of the last visits to the vet - they had to feel his belly to make sure he wasn't constipated - he had gained so much weight!  You wouldn't know to look at him probably, he's still a skinny old guy, but not like before. He still tends to look rumpled and and squinty and disgruntled a lot of the time ...

And his Yoda ears crack me up.

He has to be on my lap all the time ..

.. and if I'm not petting him, he's asking why!

He stalks me while I'm eating ..

.. and sometimes helps himself when I'm not looking!

Wheat Thins!

He enjoys his Monday cheeseburgers ..

... and synchronise sleeps with Norah.

Sometimes he shares space with Abby ...

.. sort of.

Mostly - he's as happy as a crabby ol' man cat can be these days!

.. and since we lost Jake - I can't help but give Riley as much attention as I reasonably can.  And what's a few cheeseburgers between friends, anyway?

ARGH-H-H!!

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Buying something online tonight sent me into the kitchen to my purse to get my wallet.  While in the kitchen I remembered it was time to take some meds.  Did that and then - oh - my back hurts and my joints hurt, maybe some Ibuprophen will help.  Took that.  Oh, I think I'd like a snack - popcorn would be good, and quick.  Put that in the microwave and got myself something to drink while it popped.

When did I move here!?

Only 5 or 6 minutes in the kitchen total, and I was heading back to the living room with my single serving size microwave popcorn, a bottle of water/crystal light and a paper towel.  Sat down, picked up my laptop and saw the shopping cart for the store I was shopping in.

Did I have my wallet?

Of course not!

How many times a day does anyone else do that?  It is downright embarrassing how often I do.  Not going to count.  I mean - I'd forget the number anyway, wouldn't I?

You betcha!

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If it's not one ..

                      .. it's the other.

Aren't they handsome kitties?  Riley and Jake when they were kids.

Now, both have thyroid disorders and take meds.

Today it was confimed that Jakie has diabetes.  I go on Saturday to learn how to give her shots. This getting old crap is for the birds.  Even for them!

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In my next life ..

..I mean really, wouldn't it be great to be able to stretch out and nap wherever you wanted to - regardless of anything going on around you?  Nice.  This crabby old man cat increasingly just wants to be with me, on me, near me.  I think he's getting close to the end of his road, he's tired.  He sleeps on my bed most nights, and many times during the day as well.  His life seems to revolve around me now.  That's okay, he could be in pain or uncomfortable or unable to eat or something, but he's not.  So I'll let him sleep on my bed or my foot or wherever if it makes him happy.

On the other hand, he could be putting on a good act just to get more attention.  He's not above that kind of subterfuge.

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Who is next?

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Jakie with her feeding tube

Usually I write about Riley, my crabby ol' man cat.  He's old, he's crabby, and he has a thyroid condition. But he's not who I wanted to write about today.  Today - it's Jake.  Jake is a girl.  She's the kitty that has always been the favorite because she is so sweet and friendly.  She will climb on anybodies lap, and tends to gravitate to people who don't like cats or do not want contact with cat hair.  She's nice like that.


Back in 2006 Jakie developed hepatic lipidemia.  Lipidosis.  Something like that.  She stopped eating and drinking and we finally had to resort to a feeding tube to get her to eat again.  Not too long after the feeding tube was removed, she went right back to her full figured self again and all was well.  

Yesterday after being
 manhandled by the vet.

Recently my daughter pointed out to me how tiny Jake was looking.  Me - huh?  What are you talking about?  Well when you see them every day .. and when you use rationals like - well she's getting old, she's shrinking - you just don't realize what's happening.  And I knew she was eating - I have made sure of it ever since her episode of anorexia.
  


Took her to the vet yesterday, Jakie weighed 11 lbs last time she was there, now she is only 6 lbs.  I am such a BAD fur-mommy!!!  Got the results of her blood tests today, turns out she too has a thyroid disorder.  Actually pretty common in older cats.  Sheesh.  And actually, that's the good news because I was worried it was diabetes which is much more complicated to treat in a cat.  


The doc is calling in a prescription for Jake, I gave her one of Riley's pills tonight and will pick up her script tomorrow.  Hopefully she will gain some weight and be her old Jakie self again, and just maybe I will start paying closer attention to my kitties.  BAD FUR-MOMMY!!!
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I know it was here just yesterday! Wasn't it?

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This is a picture taken when I was – I dunno 15 or 16 maybe.  It was the day I was cutting off my hair to just above shoulder length and getting it feathered on the sides.  Remembered feathering?  Yeah, awesome. 

The picture is a little worse for wear, something got stuck to it and left paper attached – but you can see a few things from my teenage years.  The big console TV (that didn’t work) with the little one (that did) on top of it.  Both black and white.  Standard in a lot of homes.  The red velvet Grand Marnier bottle (empty) – just because it was cool and alcohol related.  Oh – and see the yellow plastic ladder that held my earrings?  Yeah, we all had something similar, and just to the left of the poster is a little “Love is ..” cartoon.  Wow, I was a walking teenage stereotype apparently!

But there is one thing in this picture I miss, something I would love to have back if I had any idea where it went or how to find it again.

That butt!  Will you look at that?  Amazing, if I do say so myself.


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And then, there’s Riley~

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He's called the crabby old man cat for a reason.  According to the vet Riley is around 17 years old.  Pretty old for a kitty.  He is the only boy out of 4 cats, yet he has a stuffed lamb as a girlfriend.  Don't ask.
 
He's never been one for cuddling, or much of a lap cat.  He has always been more of the stereotypical ‘aloof’ cat, content to ignore the humans in the room unless they can be useful to him.
 

Now, as he's gotten older, he has become my shadow.  When I am sitting, he is sitting next to me, sometimes on me which is unheard of with him.  Used to be he would nip when he decided he was done being petted, now he will sit and purr and keep asking for more with his eyes - forever.


Makes me crazy that this crabby old man shed-machine is on me, all. the. time.  But on the other hand .. how soon will I be wishing he was still here to 'bother' me some more?  So I pet him and baby him and let him sit on me, and laugh when he sits on the back of the couch and head butts my head. 



I mean really, crabby old man cats don't last forever, y'know?


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Wii for the elderly

How many nights do I go to sleep picturing myself getting on the treadmill (never outside, I'm not THAT crazy) and running like I'm training for something? Never mind that I was never a runner, even in high school at 104 pounds (I WAS TOO - my freshman and sophomore years) I couldn't run a whole mile without walking some of it.

There was a time when I worked out all the time, for about 2 or 3 years and that was all she wrote. Now - I not only don't exercise, I don't MOVE. I've been eating better than I ever have in my life and still not losing weight so you know working out is the missing element.

Tonight I got on the treadmill and started moving. I thought about it all day at work, gearing myself up for a workout when I got home and was just starting to walk - when my BF showed up all cute and bearing gifts. He's kind of hard to resist when he smiles and his nose crinkles all up. He brought me a strawberry/pineapple slushy thing that was really good. But spending time with him and having my slushy meant getting off the treadmill almost as soon as I started.

Still, it wasn't all cold, fruity kisses. BF suggested we play tennis. On the Wii. OH! Exercise of another kind, okay, I can do that! He being of the athletic persuasion and me being from the totally sucking community, I still thought it could be fun and it was!

But about 10 minutes into it I looked at him and he looked at me and I realized we were both playing with our reading glasses perched on the ends of our noses. Um . . I guess we couldn't see the remote well enough . . .

You KNOW what I said to him and made us both laugh, right?

"WE'RE OLD!"

But we kept playing!

Where are you Ma?

I don’t remember ever actively thinking about what kind of old lady my mom would be. But I think I always liked the idea of a Maxine. A feisty old lady who finding herself free late in life – would be embracing it exploring it and reveling in that phase of life. And finally – enjoying being free to do what SHE wants to do.

When did my mom get old? Not old like she wears sensible shoes and tells stories about walking to school 5 miles in the snow. Not old like she says whatever she wants because she doesn’t care what anybody thinks anymore. Not red hat lady old.

Old like being irrationally afraid of being home alone. Old like being terrified when the phone service goes out for a little while and old like pushing the button she wears around her neck frequently and when the voice asks if she needs help saying “just testing”. And old like – she insists she needs to live with a man in the house just in case “something happens.”

And when did the guilt crowd in because I’m disappointed my mom is not growing old and feisty, but old and timid and fearful instead? Guilt because she lives with my brother because he’s a “man”, even though we did try having her live with me for a while. And guilt because I find it so difficult to talk to her because she is SO not herself anymore.

Disappointment. That’s not an emotion indicative of understanding, sympathy, or empathy. It suggests I care more about how it feels to me – than how it feels to her. The emotions are in layers. Feelings for my mom when I was a kid, a whole separate layer just for the teen years. A layer for my married with small children years and a layer for when Ma became kind of lost to us.

She knows who she is, who we are, she has those faculties about her. But this layer muffles the parts of her personality that made her – Ma. Nothing she loved in the past, oil painting, sewing, crafting of all kinds – interests her anymore. She busies herself with a few household tasks and taking naps.

This layer is stifling and suffocating and yet – at times - there are gauzy openings in it when the light shines through and Ma is there for a while, not quite so confused. Not quite so fearful. A little take-charge for a bit, and not so clingy and dependent.

But she doesn’t stay.

And it’s all so hard to watch. Harder to accept.

Those fleeting thoughts

Do you ever wonder what people think of you? I don't mean obsessively. I don't mean like you seriously worry about it or even care really. But do you have those fleeting thoughts when you are out somewhere and you see someone look at you - and wonder what they are thinking?

I do. And I guess I also form quick opinions as I pass by people I don't know. I might see a woman in what looks to be night-club attire at 10:00 in the morning and think "Oh, inappropriate. I wonder where SHE works!" Or maybe I spot an older man in his slippers shuffling into the drug store and think "Oh I'll bet his wife sent him." Things like that.

It doesn't mean anything, these things aren't consciously thought out they just sort of pop into your mind, little snap judgments you have as you walk by people, forgotten as quickly as you think them.

Mostly I don't care what people think when they see me - I'm sure other people have those odd little thoughts when I walk by too. But there IS one that kind of bothers me.

I frequently stop at my local drug store as it is so close to my house. And sometimes on my way home from work it occurs to me I'm just about out of cat food, so I pull into the parking lot and go in to the store to grab a couple of cans.

I, like most people, have heard the stories about old people eating pet food. And the stories tend to focus on old women. And cat food. So as I stand in line with my tuna pate or turkey and giblets grill - it is inevitable that it will cross my mind - "I hope nobody thinks this is my dinner."

It's NOT. I promise.

Ibuprophen is my friend.

I don’t have one of those electric or gas powered hedge trimmers and to be honest, I’m a little afraid of them. When I was in high school my mom was outside with the hedge trimmer while I, ever the selfish teenager, was in the house being self absorbed I’m sure.

Mom came in the house and went straight to the bathroom and something about it just didn’t sound right. When I checked it out – there was blood on the carpet. There was blood at the front door and on the porch. I went to the bathroom door and heard “go next door and get Kenny, tell him I need to go to the hospital!”

AGH-H-H-H!!!!! (that was me.)

I ran next door and told our neighbor that my mom had an accident with the hedge trimmer and needed to go to the hospital. Then I went out into the yard where the hedge trimmer was laying and …yeah … I looked for fingers. I had no idea if there were fingers out there but I was prepared to pick them up and put them in a baggie with ice.

Turned out that her little finger was broken and she needed a bunch of stitches, but all her fingers were attached. So you can see why I might be a little frightened of that particular landscaping tool.

Which is why I was outside today with the old fashioned kind of clippers hacking away at the bushes in front of the house. (spell check REALLY hates my grammar.) Part way through I realized that I had owned this pair of clippers for over 10 years and they’ve never been sharpened so you can imagine how easy they were to use. Heh. I had skipped doing the bushes last year so they had a lot of growth that needed to be cut off and a lot of shaping to be done.

Yard work, or any manual labor for that matter, is not my favorite thing. It would help I suppose if I did it every now and then so it wasn’t such a shock to my system when I finally do get my butt out there to get it done. But I don’t and it is.

It’s been 6 hours since I was out trimming the bushes. My arms feel like lead, my hands shake when I lift a drink to my mouth, and fine motor skills are non-existent due to the screaming arthritis pain in my thumbs right now. But the worst? My back. Oh.my.God.

Once I get the laundry folded and my lunch ready for work tomorrow, I am curling up in bed on my side with a pillow between my knees and praying it’s not worse tomorrow.

I’m pretending that’s actually a possibility or I might have nightmares.

I didn't aim or anything!

There are many indignities associated with going to the doctor, especially the gynecologist. I hadn’t been for a while – okay 2 years – and I needed to make an appearance. At this point in my life after having kidney stones, children, and a broken ankle that required a plate, screws and pins, I am an old hand at visiting my various physician’s offices.

The paper clothes they give you to put on in the examining room are always a great source of comfort for me. I might be lying about that.

Asking the nurse for a larger size paper skirt ( ? ) only got me a giggle from her and wrapping it around me and climbing up on the table – made it rip. Yay me!

The doctor had to review the normal things with me, allergies – no, first date of my last cycle – I gave her the date. On any meds right now? Yeah, and as I told her the first one, the second one made a really quick exit from my brain. Uh … it’s …uh … it’s a little blue one … I said hopefully. She was patient with me and wasn’t too condescending when she reminded me that there are a lot of little blue pills out there.

After getting the meds straightened out it was time to get down to it and my doc said the dreaded “put your feet in these and scooch down to the end of the table." It was at that point I realized that during my relaxing 20 minute wait in the paper skirt sitting on the table reading the book I had brought with me – I had been sweating. I had apparently made a perfect heat seal between me, the paper, and the vinyl cushioned top of the table. I wasn’t “scooching” anywhere without leaving a piece of me on the table or taking some extra paper down to the edge with me.

Sigh-h-h.

I’m starting to think that the older you get the worse the exam gets. It seems like they figure ANYthing will fit in there now – and they try to find random things from around the room to prove it. But the best part? She asked me to cough. Yeah, just like they do to guys but I got to cough with something akin to the kitchen sink in there. When I coughed the first time she looked at me like I was kidding and said “no, REALLY cough. Give me a good one.” And then - “again..”

So, yup – I peed on the doctor. I mean - sheesh – she ASKED for it, don’t ya think??!!!

Time marches on

I didn’t read a single blog today. I feel like I should look around furtively and whisper that. Sh-h-h-h…


I’m really not sure what I was doing but obviously it was something else. Maybe because I have a few days off work coming, I know I can sit down and catch up. Because by now? I am sure my reader is up into the hundreds.


Monday is my birthday. I am not mentioning that to get birthday wishes, although gifts are always welcome. But – I usually take my birthday off work every year and this year I decided to make an extra long weekend out of it. I am taking Friday, Monday and Tuesday off. A nice 5 day weekend. Lovely!


The birthday? I am going to be thirty nineteen. Or as I am more apt to say – forty-freaking-nine years old!!!!! What happened? When did that happen, and how? I don’t FEEL like forty-freaking-nine years old.


I’ve heard that fifty is the new forty, so if that follows – does that mean I am really still in my thirties? Maybe I should stick with that.


I feel better. How about you?

Cake for everybody!

Today is my one year blogiversary and I almost missed it. I am amazed that it has been a year already and I have "met" so many great people doing this.




A year ago I picked my way through the interwebs saying to myself - well - let's see what this blogging thing is all about. I had never seen a blog, read a blog, much less considered doing one myself. And then once I started - I didn't really think anyone would actually read it! It didn't take long to get into the swing of things and learn to love doing it.

Thanks to everybody who comes by and reads and thanks to everyone who comes by and comments too! Woo hoo! Everybody eat cake!

We had imagination!

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When I was a kid messing around in school, there was always fun to be had with glue. We would lay a thin puddle of it on the inside of our desks and when it was dry cut it into fake fingernails. All you had to do was lick them and stick them on!

The other thing we would do – or maybe it was just me, was to make a fist so the skin on the back of our hands was tight and smooth and cover it with a barely there layer of glue. When it dried you could barely see it on your skin except for a slight sheen you wouldn’t ordinarily have. And best of all, when you straightened your hand – the skin on the back that was so smooth and taut – would look like the skin on the hand of an 80 year old. Amazing stuff!

Even more amazing? I don’t have to use glue to make my hands look like that anymore. Sigh-h-h.
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How was your day???

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So last night my car wouldn’t start. I got the whine over and over but it would not turn over. Luckily my daughter is home from school because I was able to take her car to work this morning. I say lucky, but I’m finding that term to be relative.

I was making a stop to get my blood drawn this morning, for blood work I have done on a regular basis. That meant no tea, no bagel, nothing except my sip of water with meds this morning. But I’ll be doggoned if I’m going to miss one of my 2 mugs of tea – so I made 2 this morning to bring with me.

It was drizzly and gray, a tad foggy even, as I stepped outside with my huge purse slung over my shoulder, my lunchbox hanging on one arm and my 2 mugs gripped by the handles in one hand. Keys in the other – I managed to open the door to my daughter’s car.

It’s a lot lower than my car. I have a small, girls SUV, just about the height for me to slide right into the seat when I get in without really lowering myself much. Dani has a Grand Am which makes me feel like my butt is skimming the pavement when I’m driving it.

There I was with my hands full, with 2 swinging bags of sorts to deal with while I tried to lower myself down to the driveway level to get into the seat without spilling my tea. I wasn’t worried about spilling it in her car, I just didn’t want to miss a drop when I actually got to drink it later!

My daughter is 3 inches shorter than I am and at least 50 lbs lighter. At least. To get behind the steering wheel is a feat all on its own because she adjusts that wheel so it’s totally vertical, which means I can’t get my thighs under it! Her seat is also up so far that my knees are up under the steering wheel so until I can adjust the wheel and the seat, it’s extremely uncomfortable. Add to that when I slid in (yeah, I slid) my purse got trapped behind me and my lunchbox got stuck between the bucket seats – but my hand with the tea was balancing up in the air and stayed perfectly level.

Once I was actually in the seat properly and adjusted all the adjustments, I had to reach into my purse to get my glasses to see the radio to adjust it to a station I could listen to. You know, something on the a.m. dial. I started to put my glasses away until I realized I’d better find the lights with the fogginess and all, so I located the correct knob and then put my glasses away.

So basically this morning before I even got out of the driveway I felt hugely fat and incredibly old!

How did your day/week start?

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