July 23, 2013

Wrinkles and Babies

My husband looked at me yesterday from his easy chair and said, “You have wrinkles under your chin.”
“What?” I said. Did I hear the man right? Did he say I had wrinkles under my chin?
Surely not. No man in his right mind would speak those words to his wife. And most assuredly mine would not because number one he wants to live and number two he loves me too much to say something that would hurt my feelings. 
I asked him to repeat his comment.
OKAY. I heard him right. I jetted to the bathroom where the mirror confirmed there were wrinkles under my chin.
How had I missed them? 
Had I been so busy worrying about the wrinkles on my face I’d completely forgotten my neck? After all it holds up my head - one would think I would have noticed it.
I was good to my neck. I smoothed wrinkle cream on it when I did my face. I used a scrub, a mask, expensive creams. And still it lets me down.

All I can think about is my neck. 
Of course I’m not speaking to my husband who has assured me since yesterday that he hadn’t meant I actually had wrinkles on my neck. Then he changed his tune and said he loves the way I look. HIs ultimate statement was he loves the wrinkles on my neck. And the hole gets deeper.
My neck is my primary concern now. It’s as if my face has been erased from my head. When I look in the mirror all I see is my neck. I’m thinking of draping the mirrors in black.
I wonder why we women care so much about our faces and necks. I suppose because  they are at the front and center, the most apparent, what people see first when we walk into a room.
I suppose I’ll continue to slather on wrinkle creams. But I’m also going to work on not caring so much about the aging process.
I’ve thought of the one cure for the aging blues that doesn’t come in a cream or a lotion. It comes in the form of a simple word, grandchildren.
The four younger ones are coming soon from out of town to visit for a week.  All thoughts of aging will be erased from my brain when I hear their voices at the door.
When their mom told me the littlest one has been packing his suitcase for a week  in anticipation of his visit here in the country with us, I was thrilled.

I smile broadly stretching those wrinkles as far as they will go and my heart sings.
Wrinkles? Who cares? I have my babies!


July 5, 2013

Crazy Daze of Summer

Can anyone believe it’s July already? I’m in shock. After going through a busy spring and with June passing by at lightening speed, I find myself on July 5th in a daze.  Where did the days go? Each individual day. Let’s see...

As I look back I see that we did some yard work. We, as in my daughter and husband, with me thrown in occasionally - well, actually rarely. The lovely mulch went down - without me involved. I was there for a bit of the weeding. But not for the edging.

I did choose a large Boston fern for the front porch to go on the wicker table between our two white rockers. My niece informed me Boston ferns are passe, the worst for shedding. Too late. It’s there and it’s staying til it dies. Which could be any day with my black thumb!

It still pretty much looks just as it did when I bought it. I'm holding my breath.

Then, I picked out a few potted plants for the deck, all of which are already looking sad. The red geraniums that were full of blooms with bright green leaves a month ago are getting gnarly, having lost most of their blooms and leaves. How did that happen? Weather? Me? Any suggestions? Help!
Photo is how they looked when I first brought them home!

The yellow and purple pansies that were so pretty six weeks ago and positioned on the table between the red metal chairs are straggly as well. I was attracted to them because of their colors and the arrangement’s name, wine and cheese. I’m calling them “whine and cheese” now for the way they are acting. All droopy and sick looking. They used to be lovely like the ones below. 

We’ve had nothing but rain off and on for a l-o-n-g number of days. Maybe that has something to do with the decline of my plants. I'm simply not a plant person. However I can't bring myself to revert to silk ones. Can you?

I’m sitting here at a clinic at 6 am with my husband waiting for his nerve block. We had rain all the way into town from the country. Lots of traffic too. Where are all these people going at 5 am when it’s still dark? I'd never be out at this time if it were not absolutely necessary. I know. People have to work. But it still seems wrong to have to go so early.

So back to my question. Where has the summer gone? 

Well, I'm happy to report that for the first time in a year, I’m healthy. Yay. I'm feeling good. I'm taking oodles of supplements and going to an alternative doctor and his program is working. So, now, part of my time has been spent organizing the house and cleaning closets. I’ve done lots of high powered dusting in corners and have completed a few other chores I won’t name. 

I’ve spent time sitting in the sun, drinking iced tea and reading. I’ve read several novels in the last few weeks and have discovered a new author. My daughter, Lisa,  found these at the Book Barn in NJ on her trip to Boston. One novel is called A Married Man. Another is titled The Wedding Day. Both by UK writer Catherine Alliott. Very good reads. Lots of adventures.

My own writing life is kicking into gear. A trip to visit a book club this week to discuss my novel, Vada Faith, gave me the much needed impetus to get back to my work in progress. I got sidetracked for a number of months. As I look back over this essay I can now see where summer has gone.

It helps sometimes to write it down. Pretty productive, huh?

Right now, life is good in our neck of the woods. Every evening a small deer comes to eat in the field behind our back yard. WE love watching him/her eat,  ears perking up when me rustle the French doors. Hummingbirds come zipping by occasionally stopping for a nip at our feeder.

What have you bloggers been doing this summer? Anything new to report?
I’d love to hear from you!  Thanks for stopping by. I'll be around more often now and will be visiting you soon. Blessings, Barb