Leave Out All The Rest

My mind has been going to interesting places recently. Maybe because I'm 50 years old, I am spending a bit more time doing life review, or maybe because the only TV commercials for my demographic are hawking funeral arrangements, laxatives and AARP membership.

At a dear friend's funeral reception recently, three women and I had a "The Big Chill" moment when we looked around the packed house and commented simultaneously, "I'd never get this many people at my funeral!" These women were in my same age range, perhaps a bit younger or older, but all were contemplating the impact they'd had on other lives.
Would they be missed? Would they be remembered? Would someone even care?

Today as I was driving home, this song came on the radio and the lyrics pierced right through the "mindless driving zone" into my conciousness. The song is called "Leave Out All The Rest" and it seemed to sum up perfectly the types of things I've been thinking... What will I leave behind?

Linkin Park, Leave Out All the Rest

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving?
When I’m done here

So if you’re asking me
I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed

And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Don’t be afraid
I’ve taken my beating
I’ve shared what I made

I’m strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I’ve never been perfect
But neither have you

So if you’re asking me
I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed

Don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Forgetting
All the hurt inside
You’ve learned to hide so well

Pretending
Someone else can come
And save me from myself
I can’t be who you are

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed

Don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Forgetting
All the hurt inside
You’ve learned to hide so well

Pretending
Someone else can come
And save me from myself
I can’t be who you are
I can’t be who you are

My Gifts At 50

As I have mentioned a couple of times before, I'm turning 50. Soon. Like, day-after-tomorrow soon.

I have not made plans for a big blowout party, or really any plans to celebrate my birthday officially. What I will be doing on Friday is what I've been doing since last Thursday---taking care of my ill mother-in-law.

My MIL had a very extensive and significant surgery recently and SO and I will be rotating weeks to care for her. While this is a challenging time because we are supposed to be planning our wedding, not to mention that 50th birthday, it feels as if it's a gift of more import to me.

My own mother and I had a complicated and sad relationship, one that left me feeling "less than" in many ways and wondering about my sensitivity and worth as a person. With SO's mother it's not like that because I'm not her daughter, there are no agendas, points to prove, or struggles for power. Though I'm her daughter-in-law, we have more of a friend relationship. We like many of the same things and share some creative tastes, and engage in raunchy girl-talk (much to SO's chagrin).

When SO and I began talking about MIL's care, I wasn't sure how well I'd do; for the reasons mentioned above. I am learning that I am much more caring than I'd thought, more capable than I'd thought, more available to be leaned on emotionally and physically than I'd thought.

While I won't be at an evening soiree' like the one I had for my 40th birthday, or dancing around in a coconut bra and grass skirt at Joe's Crab Shack like I did about six years ago, I'll be doing something equally fulfilling; receiving confirmation that I've grown into a woman that can be depended on and can think of others first; a woman who can be a friend and companion; that maybe in some small way I've paid it forward so that someone can do the same for me one day.

I know I've become a woman of value; that's a fine birthday present if you ask me.

The Coin Purse

There are some things that really mark the beginning of the slide down the cliff of aging: complaining about music being too loud, punctuating movements such as lifting or rising from a squat with groans and grunts, and the use of the coin purse.

You’ve seen the coin purse before, it’s ridiculously small, made in a strange shape, and an older person at the grocery store in front of you is usually using it…when you’re in a hurry.

The coin purse is not an accessory that is made for expedience; coins are thrown into it and land in such a way that getting the exact coin you need at the time you need it is impossible. The only difference between the use of the coin purse and carrying coins in a plastic sandwich bag is the coin purse is sturdier. I am actually surprised these things are still being manufactured because carrying cash and change is so last year.

I will tell you that I have never purchased a coin purse, my good friend Tricia gave it to me. Tricia gave me a set of purses 15 years ago, there were four of them, the two largest were perfect for travel size makeup bags, the next size was an odd size; too small for makeup but too large for anything else, and the last one was…a coin purse.

I disdained the coin purse in fact, on several occasions, I very nearly threw it away but something stopped me every time. The coin purse appeared many times over the years, always in strange locations like bathroom drawers or shoeboxes in a closet; it was as if it was mocking me saying: “silly young woman you will, one day, bow to me.” “Resistance is futile!”

Okay, I may have gotten carried away with the Star Trek reference, but you get my meaning don’t you?

One day I was very frustrated about all the change swimming at the bottom of my purse; the wallet I was using didn’t have an area for coins. I was faced with the quandary of what to do about my dilemma when my mind offered up the siren song: “you could use the change purse Tricia gave you”. I pondered the suggestion and I knew right where the coin purse was located, under the bathroom sink; this time when I thought of using it, it didn’t seem so bad. ZAP! Just like that, I was absorbed into the old folk collective of coin purse users.

Resistance really was futile, when it comes to the disdain of coin purses; I’m not that girl anymore.

What's Up With The Mysterious Phone Messages?

There are some things that make me want to wail in frustration:
-The latest episode of "I Love New York 2 ",
-Blanket emails and,
-MYSTERIOUS PHONE MESSAGES!

You may be wondering what a mysterious phone message is, well allow me to illustrate;

Picture this, Las Vegas 2007...

The beautiful Menopauseprincess sits at her table, phone held to her ear, listening to her friend's outgoing voice mail message. The message concludes and her melodious voice says,

"Hi Marcy it's me, I was just calling to see if you wanted to go to the meeting with me on Friday." "Call me and let me know if you'd like to go."

Some hours go by and Marcy does return the call which MP is not home to receive. Here's Marcy's message: "Hi it's Marcy, returning your call." "Call me."

Um...what about the meeting? That information was requested but not provided; now the old game of Telephone Tag can begin. ARGH!

I am not asking for a social security number, I'm merely asking if you 'd like to go somewhere, somewhere we've more than likely discussed before. I receive a return call that might have been placed from a Free Clinic reporting results from the latest round of STD testing.

What's up with the mysterious phone messages? I always try to leave a detailed message, stating the reason for the call, even if it's just to chat; unless there's a reason I know of not to do so. If I'm calling with a specific question and you return the call and don't get me; please leave a detailed message.

When I was younger and my life was a lot less planned; those mysterious phone messages were fine; but I'm not that girl anymore!

Doris "Granny D" Haddock

Last week I wrote a post about the 85 year-old woman I met at the fitting room at Ross, and a couple of days later I saw a film about Granny D Haddock, a most remarkable 97 year-old woman. I'm sure the fact that these incredible women are crossing my path is no accident. I think that as I realize situations in which I'm not that girl anymore I'm being shown what kind of "girl" I can be.

There is a documentary currently running on HBO called, Run Granny Run. Run Granny Run" is a film about a woman named, Doris Haddock; known fondly as "Granny D", who ran for Senator of New Hampshire in 2004 when she was 94 years-old. If you get the opportunity to see this film, by all means do.

There are many interesting things about Doris "Granny D" Haddock:
-when she was 50 she and her husband successfully campaigned against hydrogen bomb nuclear testing in Alaska.
-when she was 89, she walked from California to Washington D.C. in order to raise awareness for the need for campaign finance reform.
-when she was 94, she ran for the Senate of New Hampshire against the incumbent, Judd Gregg. While Doris "Granny D" Haddock didn't win, she got 34% of the vote which was not bad for a woman who was determined not to take any special interest money.

So as my 50th birthday looms on the horizon in 2008, I see women like Doris "Granny D" Haddock and the energetic queen of the fitting room and I find myself sort of relaxing into my future.

When I was younger the idea of being 50 was scary, and not something I could even fathom but I'm not that girl anymore.

Here's What I Learned In The Fitting Room

Today it was time for a little retail therapy and I was very much looking forward to it. I had a couple of gift cards in my purse that were screaming to get out and I wanted to let them.

I found myself at Ross Dress For Less. I really have to be in the mood to shop there; the merchandise is pretty much shoved onto racks with little rhyme or reason apart from sizing. Today I was in the mood. SO and I have some social engagements this weekend and I fancied some new items. Sometimes a new shirt, pair of jeans, earrings, or a pair of shoes can just turn the switch to the "on" position personality wise.

I am pushing my little cart around the store, choosing items and mentally constructing an outfit around each item: "I can wear that black sweater I bought a couple of weeks ago with these jeans, but I'd better go try them on first", so off to the fitting room I go. When I arrived at the front desk where they give you that big hang tag number that denotes how many items you're taking into the room, I noticed the attendant was a senior citizen.

I watched this woman as she worked; she was like a hummingbird. She'd zip over to the desk hand out a number, zip back to the two racks holding discarded clothing, zip back to the front desk again. She was tiring and inspiring to watch. She also was running rings around the other employees who were younger by at least 30-40 years.

I have a few health concerns and I don't always move so well, not horrible but not great. Certainly I'm not up to climbing Mount Rushmore as a very dear high school friend recently did. Some days stairs can be a challenge. HOWEVER this little lady at Ross was moving!
I said to her: "How are you?"

"You really want to know? Come here, I'll whisper."

I leaned forward and she sort of stage whispered, "85".

I said, "Oh, I asked how you were, but I never would have guessed that."

"Oh I thought you asked, how old I was"

"That would be pretty personal" I laughed as I took the hang tag and went in to try on the jeans.

As I pulled on the jeans in the tiny dressing room I thought of the woman; I thought how sad that she has to work at 85. I then had to stop myself because really, I had no idea what that woman's story was but I was creating a dismal picture. She had way more energy than I did, and one thing I know is when you have a lot of energy, you can't just be sitting around. Maybe she's working in order to keep busy.

I wanted to ask this woman why she was working, but somehow that didn't seem like the right question, even insulting. As I left the dressing room and went to the desk to return the number I said, "what's your secret?"

"What's my secret?"

"Well yeah, you look great, you're moving faster than I am , what's your secret?"

"Well, I never drank, never smoked.."

"Good clean living?"

"Good clean living." And she gave me a very sweet smile.

So here's what I learned in the fitting room today at Ross:
-As long as you've got energy, keep moving,
-Do the best job you can,
-And be kind to silly young women who want to know your secret. They'll learn it themselves in time.

And The Thought For Today Is...

"We don't stop playing because we grow old;
we grow old because we stop playing"

-George Bernard Shaw

As I was leaving the grocery store today I noticed a bubblegum machine along the bank of machines that are always at kept at kid's eye level. SO jokes that I'm like a child when I pass one of these machines; I usually counter with "yeah, but I've got my own money". Now, normally I would be fishing in my bag for a coin to deposit into the machine, but the painted price on this machine was 50cents! Criminy! I can remember when these things were 5 cents. To pay 50 cents for a mere bubblegum ball, well that was the end of it for me.

Still, there are times when I've just got to let the little girl out, back to the time when I was just "princess".

-I own crayons and a large unfinished poster of a Victorian house that I can color any way I want.
-I enjoy a good jar of bubbles to blow, it's even more fun if there's a dog who'll chase the bubbles.
-I play with toys in toy stores.
-I checked out "Oh The Places You'll Go" by Dr. Seuss today from the library and reserved a copy of "Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?" also by Dr. Seuss. I am reading both of these books because I want to be reminded of the places I can go and how lucky I am.
-Much to SO's chagrin, I occasionally wear my hair in braided pigtails.
-I love any movie that has a talking animal in it. I just went to see "Underdog" and laughed loud and hard.

I don't ever want to be so old I stop playing. I want you to be able to look into my eyes and still see the little girl there. I want to retain as much joy as I can.

What about you?

Exercise For Those Over 35

While reading Nick's post on old age, aches, and those strange noises that appear when you get older, I just had to snicker.

I have to tell you that sometimes when I bend down to pick something up I wonder who is providing the sound effects, that "oof" or sound of bones cracking, the groan when I rise from a squatting position, the amount of time it takes to completely straighten up from a seated position.

Keeping flexible is becoming more of a priority as time goes by so when a dear friend sent the following information in an email I was very interested:

Just came across this exercise suggested for the over 35's to build muscle strength in the arms and shoulders. It seems so easy so I thought that I'd pass it on to some of my friends and family. The article suggested doing it three days a week.

1. Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room at each side. With a 2lb potato bag in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, then relax.

2. Each day, you'll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer. After a couple of weeks, move up to 5lb potato bag. Then 25lb potato bag and then eventually try to get to where you can lift a 50lb potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute

(I'm at this level).

3. After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each of the bags.


I'm starting next week. No need to be too hasty.

Don't Quit!

As time goes by it becomes a little bit more difficult to remember things. About 7-8 years ago I was in tears, distraught over my vanishing memory, but I'm over that now. Can't remember why I was so upset.

Even though I walk into rooms only to forget why I've come in there, this poem seems to stick in my head. It is the perfect type of sing-song poem I learned as a child, but more importantly the message is spot on!

It seems that as I get older and more "realistic", the reasons why I can't do some thing become myriad, maybe it's true for you as well? You've a goal you're trying to accomplish and man, it seems to be taking forever, maybe you're not supposed to do it, maybe the Universe is saying no? NO! It's no when I say, and not a minute before.

I am sorry that the author of this cherished bit of wisdom is unknown because clearly, they were onto something. So if you've read it before read it again, and if you haven't read it before, please do so now.

Don't Quit

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh
When care is pressing you down a bit
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns
As every one of us sometimes learns
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won, had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt
And you never can tell how close you are
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit
It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

Author Unknown

Brad Pitt- He's Not That Boy Anymore

One of the features on the news today was about Brad Pitt. Stories about Brad Pitt are not unusual the man has been celebrity newsworthy for a couple of decades now, what was interesting was the focus of the story. Pitt is aging.

I can remember the first time I saw him, all full of swagger, cute as a bug and about to shear Gena Davis' horns in "Thelma and Louise". While he was too "girl pretty" to make my breath quicken, he was still pretty fun to watch. I'd guess he was in his early twenties then and over the years he's gone on to get married, divorced, find another relationship, become a father to four, in short, he grew up.

When you actually, really, finally grow up, a lot of times it involves aging. Brad Pitt is now 43 years old and even he realizes he's not that boy anymore. In an interview for Details magazine he says: “One thing sucks, your face kind of goes. Your body’s not quite working the same. But you earned it. You earned that, things falling apart.”

Pretty insightful if you ask me. Aging is something that happens if you're lucky. It's up to each of us how that gets expressed.

I'm not that girl anymore...

Hello, I'm so glad you're here! Are you wondering what the title of this blog means?
The title of this blog means that one day I woke up, and I wasn't that girl anymore!

One day, I woke up and:

• I was 49 (Lord! How did that happen?),
• I had gray hairs not only on my head, but in places you REALLY don't want gray hair,
• I made noises when raising from a squatting position and lifting things with even the slightest bit of weight to them,
• I had my own personal heating system,
• I was addressed by the title, "ma'am" and referred to as "that lady" (terms I remember using myself as a child),
• I couldn't walk in heels (I thought that talent was akin to riding a bicycle, but no...),
• I developed an interest in watching "Dr. Phil",
• Everyone was suddenly younger as opposed to older,
• I was invisible. Actually I wasn't really invisible but people seemed to develop an ability to look past or through me.

The invisibility was what told me I was not THAT girl anymore. Now, I don't mean that girl in a Marlo Thomas sort of way but rather, that girl that is noticed, listened to, seen, appreciated for her ability to breath. I wasn't that girl who was young!

If you visit with me awhile, you'll be treated to my ramblings about things I think, see, remember, overhear (you hear a lot when you're invisible) and notice. It won't always be time to play the violins, but it will always be from the vantage point of a woman who's -not that girl anymore!