Monthly Archives: September 2014

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional. ~Chili Davis

My husband turned 58 last week. Not sure when we got old enough for him to be that old. (I’m the child bride, you know. At least that’s my story and I’m stickin to it.) I remember when he turned 40, I just couldn’t believe I was married to “someone that old”. Then I turned 40 and it didn’t seem quite so …well, old.

I was thinking about it today. I still think of myself as about 27. I loved being 27. And if I’m not paying attention, I still FEEL 27. Did I get stuck there somehow? So I started wondering about it. Does everyone “stay” a certain age in their life? Is it because of where you were or an event, like a marker, that occurred? Was it just because I liked being 27?

I think it was because that was a really pivotal time in my life. I was really an adult: I was married, had my first child, had a good job, had a confidence about who I was and who I was going to be. (Maybe that was born from youthful ignorance.) But it was also a happy time. I loved watching my daughter grow up. The changes in babies are so fast and myriad that it’s just awesome to observe. There were lots of possibilities.

Maybe it’s because I’d just lost my mom. Maybe I stayed there with that emotional scar. I don’t think about it being sad. I LIKED that time! But maybe it was a combination of things…maybe that was the best of me? Like a peak prformance?

I know I have fought growing older. No growing old gracefully for me! I HATE not seeing without 1.50+ readers (glasses, whippersnappers, glasses). Having to chase a pair down & Fred making fun of me having 6 pair laying around in various rooms. And the middle age spread! Yuck! And I’m not exactly proud of the gray hair hidden under my color (that is a secret we’re not going to talk about.) Mark Twain said in Following the Equator, that “Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.” That’s a really nice sentiment….until you see the wrinkles in the mirror and then you’re thinking: Not.

Well, I think I’ll just go on feeling 27. But trying to remember the bonus of the years from then to now. I’m so proud of the years Fred and I’ve spent together..and the children we raised and the adults they’re becoming. And the future. Good grief! There may be grandbabies in a not too distant future. And a second career! One that I do because I want it, because it has a purpose. Just remember though, “Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.” ~Jim Fiebig

Now I ‘m hungry for ice cream!

Does that happen to you? Do you feel like you’re still a certain age? Why is that? And why does that dang mirror lie? That can’t be my old face in that mirror!

Our days are happier when we give people a bit of our heart rather than a piece of our mind. – Pinterest

I rolled over early this morning and found my favorite place…Fred’s shoulder. Threw my leg over his and sighed. Now before you start thinking “TMI” rest assured that I’m keeping this PG.

Do you have a spot like that…a place where EVERYTHING in the world is right? Where you know you’re safe? That’s been Fred’s shoulder for me. He wraps his arm around me and usually starts playing with my hair..which somehow must be one of the most comforting things on earth. It reminds me of my mom doing the same thing when I was a little girl…and I know peace for a few unadulterated precious moments.

Now life is really good if Fred doesn’t expect me to start talking. I mean really. It’s EARLY. Shhh. Be quiet. The only words I have this early in the morning sound frightenly similar to Duck Dynasty’s Phil Robertson, “nah” [insert a Phil No].

It wasn’t always that way. No, Fred used to be the morning grunter. The years have changed us…or maybe reversed us. I used to be the early riser and the morning talker. In fact, to save the marriage, we learned pretty quickly that we could not spend our early mornings with each other. Fred used to be a slow starter…like don’t-talk-to-him-for-oh-maybe-the-first-3-hours slow start. Now, I’m used to waking up after Fred’s gone to work and having the house to myself…just me and Good Morning America and a few moments with the Old Man (our 16 year old OLD dog-who’s lasted longer than lots of marriages).

 

The Old Man
The Old Man

 Mornings are quiet. I find sometimes that I either haven’t spoken at all or I find myself carrying on a conversation with myself just for the company! But it sure is a nice morning when it began in my favorite spot. With a few moments of just pure peace.

So what about you…where’s your favorite spot? Your safe place? Does your early morning start with any Duck Dynasty sounding quacks?

Fred & Wilma

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call him “The Marlboro Man” like Rea Drummond’s hubby of The Pioneer Woman fame or the old ad. He got the nickname Fred because years ago in a crowded room, if I called his name, he never heard me, but I could almost whisper, “Fred” and he’d immediately turn around & look at me…expectantly. It stuck….because it worked. Every time.

Wilma didn’t stick to me as well. He tried. It just didn’t stick.

Fred & I have been together 30 years. Go figure. Didn’t actually see that one coming. I’d planned to be The Best Aunt Alive. Single. Wildly successful. Then Fred’s sister introduced us one evening and I watched him bend down and throw rocks in the lake with his 3-year old son and I was gone. Plans changed. 30 years. Fast. Real fast!

Then there’s Gig…nope, not the Aggie kind, the giggle kind. I don’t know. It just happened. Gig is this beautiful, talented graphic designer engaged to be married to “The Beau.” She’s fun and funny and we’ve decided to keep her….versus trade her in on something different. She’s my first born and my daughter. Strong and kind.

Boo is my son: all 6 foot 6 of him. Gentle, kind, maybe a little crazy. Boo tends bar. He has a way with people. Maybe it’s the six foot of him, or maybe it’s that he has this incredible ability to accept people and remain calm when chaos reins all around. He gives the best hugs ever!

They are who I’ll share with you in little moments of time…Vignettes of our life. There are more…but the Vignette isn’t set yet.

Do you have a nickname – one that just stuck? A funny story about it? Do tell.