Whistler's Mother

Let me start out by saying, I will be 50 something in a couple of months. I've been told that I look younger. I chose to believe people when they say that, because I'm always grasping for straws of hope that age hasn't caught up with me yet. But actually it's probably because I don't have that "put together look" that most women learn by now. Anyways, I dress for comfort and warmth.  And I'm feeling and looking old. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of wearing clothes that don't flatter.  I look at my dismal wardrobe and think, "What was I thinking?"

So after watching a mountain of episodes of the program, "What Not to Wear" and several marathons of "Say Yes to the Dress" and rushing home every Thursday to watch my favorite program "Project Runway," I've come to learn the magical powers of the empire waist.  I've learned what an A-line skirt can do for the legs. I learned that wearing baggy clothing to hide your body backfires. I learned that any size woman can find clothes that make her look terrific. I learned the meaning of the flattering silhouette, proportion, styling, and couture.

So after a few months of experimentation, I'm buying things I never would have even looked at before. I went sleeveless for the first time this summer.  I bought my first sandals. Sandals that show my feet and toes. Egads!  I try everything on and if it doesn't look absolutely fabulous on me, I won't buy it. Not even if it is 60% off!

I straightened my curly hair.  It's actually pretty long. My stomach got flatter when I figured out what foods made me feel inflamed and got rid of them. I still need to start an exercise program, but girl, I've been saying that for three, four, five decades.

Compliments are nice to hear again. People ask me if I have lost weight. Not an ounce. But miracle upon miracles, I got whistled at and not by the 70-year-old, old dude down the street.  I haven't been whistled at in 25 years. I got whooped at too.   Hells Bells!

Men, again, look me over instead of look over me. It's a nice nod to my ego, but since I've been working on reaching an ego-less state, the effect was negligible.  Plus for some inexplicable reason, I found I didn't really miss or even want that kind of attention. I forgot what it felt like to be given a USDA meat grade upon inspection. It's disconcerting. I'm definitely not Prime nor Choice. Hoping for the Select cut. But now, I only want to be selected by my one and only man.

I never thought I would get noticed in that way again. I knew the wolf whistling days were way, way over.  Apparently, the key here is flattering clothes and - great distance.  At a distance (at least a half a block) I look effin' hot!

But it's hard to keep it all up. It's easy to go back to the comfort of my sweats or baggy jeans. Been in them again for about a month. But I plan to keep it up and have my eye on revamping my winter wardrobe.

The last guy that drove by and whistled was rather young. He stuck his body out of the car waving his hands. I just shook my head, perturbed that he couldn't tell the difference and yelled for him to get a pair of glasses.

I was old enough to be that whistler's mother.

Witness To Spring and The End of Smokes

I've been waiting for Spring for such a long time.  But with every Random Tuesday Thoughts rolling by so quickly,  I feel like time is running out.

I need to make every effort to watch the season carefully.  I need to be outdoors, to notice the ever changing landscape which seems to change hourly.  The baby greens burst out quickly this year.  The contrast from just a few weeks ago is striking.  It went from bare to lush.  The flowering trees are blooming and the spring flowers have made their appearance.  I drive past the park everyday and everyday brings something new. This week a blanket of yellow dandelions dots the landscape.

I sometimes look out the window from my desk and feel like I'm missing it.  It's as though I'm allowing another opportunity to slip by and unfortunately, that means another year before spring is here again. Even though I am fully aware of the spring, it's seem like I am admiring it from afar.   I've got to go out there and feel it, to be a witness to it.  

Because before you know it, six Tuesdays will go by and it will be gone. 

Computer or outside.  

Technology or Nature.

Small screen or panoramic view.        

Scattering distracting minutia or tranquil reflective centering.

Choices, choices.  

I wish I had a laptop, then I can take my technology with me and sit under a quiet shady tree feeling the spring breezes.  That would be so pleasant.  But that would be making spring background scenery, just a backdrop to my day.  It's not really an interaction.  And I'm looking for interaction.  

I feel it. A NATURE SAFARI is about to commence. 

I would highly recommend you take one in the near future. Go on an adventure. Take another human with you, one that would appreciate it.  Take binoculars, a camera, a sketch pad. Take a walk in nearby woods or county park. Put on your boots, cross a stream, turn over rocks, look for new growth, get down and dirty. 

Speaking about interacting with nature, Smokey, the most zen dog in the universe, will be leaving our care and going back home.  Seven weeks are up and my parents will be home on Friday.  QueenMaker finds the dog comical and has laughed non-stop for seven weeks.  I can't tell if he's laughing at the dog or just laughing because the dog makes him happy. 

For sure, one day, when we are old, and starved for affection, or craving for someone or something to accept our love one last time, we will get a dog.  Just like Smokey.  

So I looked him up. He is a tibetan terrier, which is not a terrier at all.  His doggie ancestors were raised by tibetan monks 2000 years ago. No wonder he's so zen. They were temple dogs and considered good luck charms. The monks would never sell the dogs but would often give them as gifts.  

It makes me happy.  You know the seven degrees of separation?   Smokey somehow connects me to the high altitudes of the Tibetan Himalayas, to the yellow and red robes of the monks, and to 2000 year old Buddhist temples.   Thanks, dog.

Now when I go visit my parents, will I go to see them or to visit Smokey, the Zen Dog.   

"Oh, I'm not here to see you, Mom. Just the dog."  

Oh she would love that.   First she would give me that look to see if I was serious.   Then she would pretend to be hurt.  I can hear her now.  Then every time I came over after that she would direct me to the dog, because of course, her daughter is not here to see her. I don't care about her, just the dog.  She would announce to the dog, "your mother's here."  Hey!    Oh, it would go on for weeks and weeks. 

Although I will miss the dog for about a minute, rest assured, my heart will not suffer any "Smoke Damage" when he leaves. 

(Yes, I said it.  Been trying to work that in for weeks.)

So if I haven't damaged you with my rather lengthy random post, work your way over to Keely at UnMom for more Random Tuesday Thoughts.

   

Weighty Problems

Well RTT is here again. The Random Tuesday Thoughts are flying all over at Keely's. so go take a gander.




Remember the tree?  The one that saved the Christmas spirit for me?  It died the other day.  My little crooked tree just toppled over one night.  I thought it was leaning a little.  We thank it for giving its life, but could it  just have waited until I got the ornaments off of it?

Just when I had a post ready about taking down our beloved ornaments while Christmas choral music played in the background. I have a glass of wine in my hand, singing along.  I lovingly wrap each ornament in tissue paper and finally toasting, paying homage to a bare tree that we mercilessly cut down in the prime of its life thanking it for its fragrance and strong boughs.  Really poetic stuff.  Really. But this tree decided to go out in a dramatic ornament popping fashion.

Speaking of ornament popping, I wish the proto-teens (it's my new favorite word) would stop touching the tree at the school. Isn't it enough that they keep bouncing balls into the thing.  One of them picked up an ornament and promptly dropped it.  Silly human.  Apologizing profusely, touch another one, and dropped that one too.  Dumb proto-teen human.

Speaking of silly humans, I made the mistake of telling my MA kids that I weighed 165 pounds. I also made the mistake of telling them that my goal for the year was to become a healthier and stronger person. Not that I wanted to lose weight, but that I wanted a stronger, fitter body.  I've always said that I wanted to maintain strength well into my eighties and my measure would be my ability to pick up a 50 pound bag of rice, or rock salt, or silly child.

My big mouth told them that I wanted them to become stronger too and that we were going to ramp up the calisthenics and do them together, and that they could watch my progress, and be impressed with my muscles, and that they could ask questions about my nutrition, that I would bring in a scale, watch my belly fat go down, take measurements....... WWwwhaaat!!! have I done?

Now. I. Have. To. Do. It.  Unless I lied.  Another resolution lie.  Heinous.

But now, those proto-teens will swarm around me constantly asking me my progress.  Disappointment in another adult that doesn't say what they mean.  Yes!  Continue with those great life lessons.  Stupid adult human being.

I guess that's why I told them.  It's my last ditch effort to set up a situation that I cannot get out of.  It's not really fair to use them like this, using them as leverage against my 35 years of laziness. But proto-teens are relentless. Also I believe telling children a promise is like whispering a prayer in God's ear.

Plus OMG, I just told you. I guess I am going to have to deliver.

On that note: Weight: 165 lbs.  Height: 5'5"  Waist: 38  Chest: 38   Thigh: 24   Butt: 44

So far in 2010:

Drank three classes of water a day so far.  I know that's low, but its way better than the four ounces I would drink every three days. A bit of dromedary in me. Will ramp up the water intake as time goes one.

Limited my coffee intake to two cups a day.  Not too hard, but I love my warm drink in the winter, so I'm switching to teas.

Picked up a weight the other day.  Actually I just moved it from one side of the room to the other.  To a prominent place, where I would see it everyday, taunting me. Oh all right, come here little dumbbell. "Who you callin' a little dumbbell.  You're the dumbbell.  You're a big. fat. dumbbell!"

Did calisthenics with the proto-teens.  Man, my abs are still kicking it.  Just can't see them under the fat.

Trying to keep my insulin levels in check, so no more sweets, limited bread intake to just two slices a day, had oatmeal and an apple this morning, and took a walk.

So what am I looking to accomplish here.

• Get my digestive tract in good working order.  
• To increase my stamina.  
• To increase my fresh air intake, breath deeply people. I have a tendency to hold my breath.  
• To rearrange pounds from fat to muscle.  
• To regain some strength that this 51 year old has lost these last four years.
• To inspire my kids.
• To feel energized.

That's not too much to ask is it?  Cheer me on if you wish, but it might be better for me if you pretended never to have seen this.  And looking at my stats, that really won't be an issue.

Now go away and go to UnMom and get your fill of RTT's.

The Daughter I Used to Be

I don't like to be touched.  My personal space is hallow ground. Step too close and I might bark or give you a swift kick to the knee.

My mom's a hugger and a kisser - to EVERYONE.  Be careful because you might meet my mom on the street one day.  And if you look down or disheartened, don't be surprised if a four foot nine, redheaded, 78 year old, looks you empathetically in the eye and with an impish smile, rushes up to give you a big hug and a kiss.  You think I'm kidding?

One thing that annoys my mother is when some of her friends during a conversation keep touching her on the knee or arm every few seconds to get her attention or to emphasize a point.  She tells me this all the while she is touching my arm every few seconds to keep my attention and to emphasize a point.

After about the ninth tip touch, I can't take it anymore, "Mami, stop doing that, okay?"  "What?"

Living with all that love, empathy, and need for human connection, finally got to me. I can't help myself. At our martial art school, students are regularly greeted with big hugs and a few kisses.  Children and adults stay with us for five years or more so they become closer to family than clients. My mother taught me that people all need to feel wanted, welcomed, and understood.  Instead of being the growling grouch of my youth,  I have become a loving, hugging fool.

Vodkamom posted some posts about her mother that got me thinking again about my dear Mami.  I realized that as you get older, real intimacy is sometimes lost between a parent and child. There are a lot of grandchildren and my brother and sisters, and there is plenty of love, but intimate moments are few yet cherished by her.  My dad is not a demonstrative man, very closed, never was.  My mom is a complete opposite.  She needs lots of love, but she is not too selfish.  Because what she gives will tenfold exceed what she needs.

So at church today, watching the multitude of children in our congregation, and I mean multitude, I witnessed the little one's need to hold a parents' hand or to be picked up in those loving, safe arms. The complete bond, that oneness between mother and child was something my mom hasn't experienced for a long, long time. So I decided to be her little girl again.

I slipped my hand into hers as a five year old would, and we held hands the whole service, as daughter and mother, reliving the oneness we used to feel.