Age and Me

Note:  The blog entry below is a slightly updated version of a journal entry written about this time last year.

Age. I recently realized it has something in common with sex.  At least for me.  My parents never talked about either in honest terms while I was growing up. In fact, they actually talked about age less than they talked about sex. So here I am looking sixty-one right in the face and already I've experienced surprises I was unprepared for. Just like my experiences with sex.



Hair for one. No one told me I wouldn't always have the abundant head of hair I was blessed with. When it first started thinning out I thought I had some kind of disease. The dermatologist assured me I was okay, I wouldn't go bald, and it was natural. It happens to lots of women. Was that supposed to make me feel better? And even the dermatologist didn't tell me that what goes on upstairs, also happens down!



The waistline is another. I have always been slender. My driver's license says 5'9 1/2" and 130 pounds. Both are no longer accurate. The truth is that I'm 5'8 1/2" and I haven't seen 130 in years. It's like the inch I lost in height moved directly to my waistline. I came close to weighing 130 a couple of years ago when I was on the Atkins diet. 133. It felt great but it didn't last. Now I am 140.2. That's 10.2 pounds heavier than I want to be and 5.2 pounds heavier than I'll settle for. And it's all in my waist! Abundant hair, legs and a waist. Those were three aspects of my body that were sources of pride. Now I'm down to one and even they are giving me concern. Cramping at night, unexpected stiffness if I sit too long, and the knees complain on the last steps when going from one level to another.



Breasts. Now that's a topic. I've never been endowed much less well-endowed. Add the loss of estrogen and years of gravity and what I have now is even less. Why, I ask you, couldn't that inch have migrated from my waist to my boobs?! And of course, the flatter I am on top the more pronounced the added inch in my waist. I've gone from a pear shape to a box! All angles, no curves!



Eyes. I've worn glasses or contacts for years. Really only needed them for seeing things in the distance and driving, especially at night. Now I need them for reading, too. Bifocals. Contacts, even with one prescription in each eye, are probably not going to be effective much longer.  In fact, I wear the glasses regularly now.  My vanity no longer trumps my need to see.



Sleep. I used to hit the pillow and be out for the night. I slept predictably well. Now there are nights that I swear I do not sleep. At all. What's with that?



Pills. I remember watching my parents take dozens of pills. Both medication and vitamins. I would laugh at them. I'm up to seven. Vitamin D, Glucosamine/Chondroitin, Calcium, multiple vitamin, aspirin, Omega 3, and magnesium. Whose laughing now?



Sex. I mentioned it in the first paragraph. Not a topic my parents ever discussed with me in terms of educating me about what to expect.  Rather, my dad made it abundantly clear it was something I was to avoid before marriage or there would be dire consequencs.  Yet I know my parents enjoyed sex.  Couldn't not know that living in a trailer 8' X 48'.  Add to that my mother's need to share the extent of their activity in Dad's final years, not all the details mind you, but enough to shock this oldest daughter.  My dad died of a heart attack after sex, sixty-eight. So I knew that even at sixty sex was in the picture. What no one told me was why Viagra would become the drug of choice of men over fifty. What no one told me was that my sexuality would thrive after menopause.



So, those are my aging companions. There are probably a few others. Maybe I haven't experienced them yet. Maybe I've forgotten them. Memory?! Maybe but since mine is impaired for reasons other than aging, I couldn't say. Wisdom? Absolutely, age has brought me some of that but that's for a different list.



What would be on your list?

Wet and Wonderful Wedding

This past weekend Roger and I attended the wedding of Mark's best friend (who was also Mark's best man).  I had my hair done the day before and as is the custom, the hairdresser and I chatted throughout the procedure.  In this case, the topic was the weather and the wedding.  The forecast was ominous -- rain.  My beautician told me that rain on one's wedding day was a good luck sign.  I had never heard such a saying but then, all the weddings I've attended have had good weather.

The day of the wedding it did indeed rain.  All day, off and on.  There were moments when the wind would blow the clouds revealing sun but they were short in duration.  There were longer periods of overcast skies without rain but eventually, rain would fall once again.  As we drove to the wedding site, we were in an overcast spell with no rain but off in the distance to the west, we could see darker clouds.  In our area, weather travels west to east.  It looked ominous.

We arrived without rain but the world was damp and dripping.  Some guests carried umbrellas (I was one) and others could be seen glancing at the sky with worried expressions.  The caterers dried off the white chairs as we waited to be seated and the string quartet, safely positioned under the eaves near the building and doorway, played on.  Once seated, the groomsmen swiftly appeared.  The bridesmaids carefully navigated their way down the rose petal strewn aisle, almost walking tiptoe as heels sank dangerously deep in the saturated ground.  At once the bridal entrance music began and Monica escorted by her proud father joined Jason, Craig, friend and wedding officiant, and the wedding party.  Overhead the clouds grew darker yet.  The wind picked up.  White petals from the apple trees framing the wedding party blew in profusion.  Wedding vows were quickly shared with Monica urging haste.  Thunder spoke to the need.  The kiss was given; the couple pronounced married and the wedding party quickly departed with guests fast on their heels.  A bucket sized drop splashed on my cheek as I raised my umbrella.  And just as the last guest entered the reception area, a torrential downpour opened up, the hardest rain of the day.

So, in my mind, the saying about rain being good luck on a wedding day has already shown itself to be true.  Monica had her outdoor wedding.  It will be a wedding remembered far longer and in more detail than some of the weddings I've attended.  The bride impressed me more than some, too.  She not only looked lovely and serenely happy, she also managed to take the weather with grace and good humor.  She showed herself to be someone I'd like to be with in a crisis-- calm, collected, and clearly focused on what's most important. 

The reception was wonderful.  Since the outside seating couldn't be used, extra tables were set up.  Guests enjoyed an open bar and an abundance of tasty treats, kept well stocked and at the appropriate temperatures.  The wedding toasts by the best man, Mark, and the maid of honor, Katie, Monica's sister, prompted good-natured laughter from the audience but also reflected the love and affection felt for the couple.  Friends and family left, not with spirits dampened by the weather, but with full stomachs and hearts lifted with love and respect for the couple. 

Yesterday, the first day of the couple's honeymoon was lovely and the forecast for the duration of their trip is the same.  I'd say good fortune is shining on them now and the prognosis for the future is good.  Wouldn't you?

It's Spring?!

Yesterday, my first day at home, was one of relaxation.  I checked all my mail, paid all my bills (that wasn't so relaxing!), browsed through the back issues of the paper, and started reading some of the magazines.  I did a wash and I went grocery shopping.  I sat on the deck.  And I drank a glass of wine, two glasses actually.  It was a day to recharge.

This morning is a different matter entirely.  It is raining outside which means I'm cleaning today.  But before beginning that task there's coffee to drink, breakfast to eat.  So there I was standing at the kitchen door looking out at the herb garden when I saw two robins scuffling on the ground.  As I watched longer, realization dawned on me.  They weren't scuffling, they were involved in their version of cattle sex!  I've never, ever seen birds do it but for the life of me, it resembled the second episode I mentioned in the earlier blog but in miniature.

The female was on bottom.  In her beak she had bits of straw, clearly for nest making.  He would hop up on her and flap his wings a bit and then slip off.  She'd hop a bit away but not too far.  He'd hop on again.  She'd hop away again.  Clearly she was a willing participant otherwise, she could have just flown away.  The dance went on for a few more times until he got himself squarely set.  The deed itself didn't take long.  Perhaps he saw me in the window.  Perhaps he had seeds yet to sew.  Either way, he flew off.  She stayed behind, fluffed her feathers a bit, jiggled her body some.  Through it all she never opened her beek but instead held tightly to her bit of straw.  Once her feathers settled, she flew off to line her nest, I'm sure. 

So, what do you think?  Does the saying about ruffling feathers come from the bird sex act?  And when they say that spring is in the air, what are they really referring to?  I wonder.

Home, At Last!

I made it home yesterday evening around 5:30 pm.  I made it all the way to Minnesota before the urge to get home set in strong.  I made it to Marquette before I hit really cold weather.  And I made it to the Marquette Branch Prison before anything in my planned excursion went wrong.  I had sent Tuwan a postcard from Spearfish, South Dakota telling him to expect me any time between Wednesday, April 21st, and Monday, April 26th.  (At that time I thought I might meander through Minnesota, Wisconsin, and the Upper Peninsula not realizing the homing device in my heart was going to hone in making for beeline driving the last couple of days.)  Anyway, I got to Marquette on Wednesday too late to visit.  Thursday morning I went in only to learn that there was a "rumor" that there was going to be an alarm drill that morning.  I needed to call back around 9:20 to see if that was the case.  I did and it was.  That meant I would not be able to visit with Tuwan until possibly after 1:30. 

Now it's a long drive from Marquette to Ann Arbor and I knew that I would not be able to make the distance if I visited Tuwan that late.  I wanted to go home.  I wanted to see Roger before he took off for Minneapolis this weekend.  I wanted to sleep in my own bed.  I wanted to start on all the spring activities I put off the last three weeks.  And I didn't want to spend any more money on this trip.  So I left a message for Tuwan letting him know I tried and that I'd return sometime in the summer and started home.  I regret not seeing him and I hope he'll understand.

As my final pictures for this trip (though I will continue the blog if you're interested in checking in now and again), are beginning and end pictures.

The pear tree before I left and upon my return.  You can see the leaves are coming out now and joining the flowers.

The Tulip tree before leaving and after returning.  The tree has peaked and Roger was sweeping up fallen petals when I pulled in.

The azaleas before and after my trip.  Roger says that at their peak you there was no space not filled with purple.  You can see the petals are falling on the ground now.

Tulips were coming up and I could see the heads of some of my perennials.

The tulips are up.  The daffodils are pretty much done.  All that lush green you see are the various perennials that will entertain us throughout the summer.

It's a great time to take a trip and a wonderful time to be home! 

Cattle Sex

One of the most frequent sights on this trip was herds of cattle grazing peacefully in the fields.  Among these herds were numerous calves of varying size, a clear indication that cattle enjoy an active sex life, especially the bulls.  Most of the calves and their moms were grazing peacefully in their own fenced in area while the bulls were fenced in an area of their own.  However, there were exceptions.

In Nebraska, as I was driving on one of the back roads, I came across a memorable sight.  A bull was coupled with a cow.  At least I think he was.  He was standing on his back feet, directly behind her, with his chest resting on her back, his head barely held up.  He looked like he had just flopped down on her.  His front legs hung straight down limply on each side.  There was no movement whatsoever.  From all appearances the deed had been done and he looked exhausted, with no energy to support himself any longer.  She, on the other hand, looked totally disinterested as she just stood waiting patiently for him to get off her. 

Much later in South Dakota, I came across another herd of cattle.  This time an energetic bull was actively pursuing a mate.  He'd almost get himself positioned, his fore legs almost set on her back and she'd move.  He'd try again and she'd move again.  One time he almost got her to stand still but rather than directly behind her, he was off to one side making for a bad aim. She was having none of that.  He was persistent though and she didn't seem overly reluctant.  Maybe she just needed a bit of courting before standing still for him.  Either way, I suspect he finally managed to subdue her. 

I don't know much about cattle and even less about their sex lives but I do know a little about sex among humans.  Seeing these episodes made me wonder about the animal in us all.

Tuesday on the Road

I spent the night in Mitchell, South Dakota and this morning started my day at the Corn Palace and then an antique mall just down the street.  I was able to find two pop-up books to buy and two others that while really old were in very bad shape and exorbitantly priced.  Once that was done, I headed for Minnesota by way of a two lane highway.  The road was pretty empty except for the occasional semi.  At first it was a great road but when it entered Minnesota, the surface was drastically different.  At some point what was a paved, albeit patched and rough, road turned into a gravel road and then a dirt road.  Soon a fair haired girl holding a stop sign (why is it that the girls hold the signs and not drive the equipment?) redirected me as my road was closed for repairs.  It definitely needed some so no surprise there.  I finally got to Pipestone, Minnesota and then found the road to Hinckley which connects with the road to Duluth which will get me to Wisconsin which will get me to Michigan.  Can you tell I'm getting anxious to get home?  I am.  The only reason I'm even in Minnesota is because it stands between me and Marquette, Michigan, the last planned stop on my trip.

So there aren't a lot of pictures for this entry.  I drove farther and longer today than any before.  I could have stopped to take pictures of the fields showing how they differ from those in South Dakota, Wyoming, Nebraska, or Kansas but I didn't.  My only other stop was a potty break at a MacDonald's.  My stop for the evening is in a little known town, Milaca, which is just a blink on the road.  The motel is nice though and I was able to walk to the restaurant across the street for a dinner of chili and salad.  I'm planning to take a soaking bath tonight and start off fresh tomorrow.  Hopefully I can get all the way to Marquette.

The Corn Palace was better than I expected.  I had thought that it was covered with kernels of corn, placed one kernel at a time like a mosaic.  A pretty impossible task, I know, but that's what I thought.  What it is, is covered with ears of corn, corn husks, corn silks, and any other part of the plant that will give the color needed for the mosaic.  It is redone each year with some new designs and some old.  Birds do eat what kernel corn is on the building throughout the summer.

There are only the two sides done in corn.  The other side is shared with another building and the back side, which faces a parking lot, is plain.

The Long and Winding (Oops, Straight) Road

It's been a very long but very exciting day.  I've covered lots of miles and have stopped for the evening in Mitchell, South Dakota.  As with the past few days, I won't be writing much, just offering some of the views I've enjoyed this day with a bit of commentary.  Another big day lies ahead of me.

I mentioned in an earlier entry that I would be driving the Spearfish Canyon drive one last time as I headed east.  The next few pictures will be an effort to let you see what I saw.

None of these pictues does justice to the beauty of this place.  I could have taken hundreds of pictures and still not have captured it.

There were cabins for rent off in the woods now and then.  I'd love to rent one for a week.  To see the sunrises and sunsets and the night stars would be awesome.

This is actually a waterfall.  I passed at least three on this canyon road.  The problem is that unless they provide a turn off, there is no shoulder to park on.  And even if there were, the ground is very soggy with spring melt.  Just know this is Bridal Veil Falls and it makes a marvelous sound as it crashes into the river.

It was early Monday morning when I made this last trip in the canyon.  I was alone except for one fisherman, one marathon runner (must have been as the road is almost 30 miles long), and two bikers.  They knew how to enjoy this territory better than I.  You have to get much closer to it and in it to get a true perspective.

This is what I drove into after leaving the canyon.  Miles and miles of grassland.

The road was so straight and the land so empty that you could see the road as far as the horizon.

That is until I came upon the Badlands.  Here the terrain became other worldly.  The next few pictures are an effort to help you see what I saw.

In spite of the ruggedness of this terrian, there were animals to be seen.  And birds.  Wonderful warbling meadowlarks.  And bugs.  Lots of bugs.

Clearly this land is not for the faint of heart.  Those who live here and make a living off the land are made of stern stuff.  No wonder most of the people I see are either mountain men with scruffy beards and long hair or cowboys with big boots, big belts, and big hats, or bad boy bikers.  The women are few and out of sight except for those who are holding the Stop or Slow signs at the various road construction sights or those who are park rangers.