Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow

I’ve been 70 for 4 days and I still feel like I’m 69 . . . maybe I’ll feel my age in a few more days.  

My long-time “Fibro-friend” came to celebrate my birthday with me.  She wasn’t invited but she came anyway. She said that’s what friends are for.  But I showed her and didn’t have a celebration.  Here’s my birthday pome to me (in blue) with an intro by “Mac”:

Happy Birthday from “Mac” and Me

(with apologies to Fleetwood Mac)

“If you wake up and don’t want to smile
If it takes just a little while
Open your eyes and look at the day
You’ll see things in a different way”

“Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow

Don’t stop. It’ll soon be here”

So don’t fret my dear

A new year to cheer

there’s nothing to fear

You may be old

but you’re still here!

A live performance of Fleetwood Mac’s classic hit, ‘Don’t Stop’ with help from the University of Southern California’s Trojans Marching Band

 

A Cautionary Tale – Pome

Boogie while you’re young

Pierce your tongue

Dye your hair green

Eat fat, not the lean

Don’t give a lick what makes you tick

Eat, drink and be merry

because if you tarry

you’ll soon be too old

all covered with mold

And have to scrap it off with a stick

First time she's made any sense . . .

First time she’s made any sense . . .

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My Birthday Season Studies, Aging on the “Fritz”

In preparation for my coming birthday I’m studying what “learned” people know about aging.  I just found out that  a definite perk of  “getting old” ensures me of ALWAYS being in the present moment!   Fritz Coleman (who is very “learned” says: “When you are old you can’t count on the future and you can’t remember the past.”

Fritz Coleman, Comedian

Senior Conference On Aging. Held at the First Church of the Nazarene of Pasadena. Keynote Speaker Fritz Coleman NBC4’s weathercaster is a Southern California broadcasting icon”  and a . . .  comedian.

A peak into my world – Hit and Miss

"Here she goes . . .again"

Bob the Blobfish: “Here she goes . . .again”

Important background information

I remember the first time I was called “Ma’am”. It was spewed out by a 15-year-old bag bog at the supermarket. I was barely into my 30’s.

Stay with me

 This morning I had a heart halter monitor “installed” (Nothing serious – just trying to titrate off of anti-arrhythmia medication which necessitates 24 hour monitoring just in case my heart protests)  It’s always a bit sobering when I have anything heart related.  It reminds me that while I’m aging on the outside for the world to see my insides are wrinkling too.  On my way back I stopped at Costco for lunch.

Be patient it will all make sense

I often go to Costco for lunch or dinner (for those of you in other parts of the world – it’s a warehouse store where the smallest quantities are packaged for a family of 20).  I  feast on food samples being handed out to market products.  

The best times for dining are Saturdays and Sundays where the aisles are replete with men and women, wearing white things over their hair, dishing out miniscule samples of food.  It is a leisurely meal because it takes time going back for seconds and thirds without looking conspicuous.

Today there was a new product – energy bars. Energy is something I can always use so I stopped to eat.  The samples were being served by a very friendly, manipulative young man.   He was youthfully cute wearing a white thing over his hair .

He informatively explained, “WE only use the best ingredients.”  WE don’t use additives”, “OUR bars have low sodium  . . . ”  If I hadn’t been around the aisle a few times (figuratively and literally) I would have thought he owned the company or at least was a major imagesstockholder.

He encouraged me to try all the three flavors and sample as much as I wished.  What’a treat not having to sneak back for second and third helpings.  Instead of reeling down the aisles looking for the next food cart I lingered at the table slowly savoring each sample – very tasty. I read the label – good ingredients. Checked how many bars a package – good price.  I threw a box into my cart.  “Thank you, Miss”, he called out. The “MISS” ricocheted off my psyche just as the MA’AM had done decades earlier.

images-1I’m seriously thinking of going back to help him fine-tune how he markets to MATURE women.  This is what I’m going to tell him: Call women “Miss” from  20 to 50. Those are the ages when we desperately care and love the recognition that we still look youthful;  Call women 50 years and older Ma’am.  This is when WE crave respect, know how we look and NEED ENERGY to care.

If this helps him sell more energy bars I may ask for a cut.

I TOLD you if you stuck with me it would make sense.

Betty Blobfish: "Growing old is not for the faint of heart"

Betty Blobfish: “Growing old is not for the faint of heart”