Romantic Disclaimer

 

I’ve been dating the same guy for over a year.  He thinks he knows me.  He thinks he loves me! 

But before we go any further, I think I should give him the following disclaimers:

 1)  Sure the romance has been steamy, but that’s about to end.  After all, there are only so many times you can pick someone up at the airport wearing nothing but a trench coat and high heels.  Don’t expect THAT again!  

2)  I know you think I’m funny, but my funniest days and craziest antics are behind me.  After all, how many times can you hear the same story and still think I’m amusing. 

3)  When there’s no food in my fridge – and there never is – you don’t get frustrated; we simply go out to eat.  But what about when it’s OUR refrigerator and still the only thing that inhabits that frozen tundra is a 6 pack of coke and a Bermuda onion? 

Sure all these idiosyncrasies seem endearing now, but how are you gonna feel 5, 10, 15 years from now? 

You always stop me when I break into a litany of my faults. You say they don’t matter, you love me regardless. But what’s that Latin phrase?  Caveat emptor.  Let the buyer beware.  You wouldn’t commit to a refrigerator … a new car …or a plasma TV without a warranty, why would you commit to a lifelong relationship without one?

“I have faith,” you say.  “It’s love,” you declare.  “Those are just things,” you say, “You don’t fall in love with a new car, or a refrigerator…or a plasma TV.   Well, unless the plasma TV has a 60-inch screen,” you jest.

What’s So Fabulous About Being 40-something?

Today’s my 44^th birthday and for the first time in a long while I’m welcoming the occasion.  Being 44 isn’t so bad – in fact it’s sort of fabulous.

I figure I have about as many years in front of me as I do behind me.  That’s good because I’ve lead a satisfying life so far and I’m looking forward to the adventures that the second half brings.

In the first half of my life I traveled to Vienna, Salzburg, Venice, Florence, Rome and Paris.  I enjoy visiting Europe and hope to go back again soon.  But sometimes I equally enjoy a weekend alone on the couch, too.  

I have terrific friends.  I’ve fostered long-term relationships with people who remember my Sylvia Plath-like poetry, purple hair days and innumerable boyfriends.  Thank God they love me still!

And speaking of love, I have enough “romantic” experience to know what I like, I’m secure enough to ask for it, and still young enough to enjoy it – over and over again!

It’s taken me a while, but I’ve learned that big gestures don’t matter as much as being there for someone day in and day out.

I’ve always been confident in my abilities at work. But now, I take pleasure in mentoring the “next generation.”

I feel as though I’ve finally come into my own.  My life fits me like a perfectly tailored suit.

At this point in my life, I’ve had my heart broken and suffered enough emotional and physical pain to know that I’ll be able to get through whatever the next 44 years bring.

I think I have something to say and I’ve found an audience willing to listen.  Thanks!

Big Night Out

My birthday’s coming up and my girlfriends want to take me out for a big night on the town. 

A night on the town! Who are they kidding?  I’m turning 44. For me a night on the town ends at 10pm.  It’s not that I need to be home in time to see the evening news — I can’t keep my eyes open that long — I just don’t see the need to be awake when tomorrow rears it’s ugly head!

I’d like to blame it on my rapidly increasing age, but sadly that’s not the case.  I’ve never been one to “party like its 1999.”  (Not even when it was 1999!) 

Just give me a few martinis at the Roo Bar, or a glass of wine and appetizers at Embers in Marshfield and I’m happy to call it a night.

Friends used to call me an “old soul,” now they just call me “old.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a stick in the mud; I love to go out.  But these days I just prefer to start my adventures a little earlier in the day.

Instead of going out to dinner, what’s wrong with a nice brunch?  I’ve never been to the Daniel Webster Inn.  After that, maybe a walk along the Cape Cod Canal. 

I still like to get my heart pumping every once in a while, and there’s nothing better for that than a bike ride along the Cape Cod Rail Trail.  (Okay, well maybe I can think of ONE thing that’s better for getting your heart pumping, but never on a full stomach!  My gastrointestinal tract isn’t what it used to be!)

As I get older, I tend to appreciate other things that have been around for a long time:  The Cape Cod Cinema in Dennis, The Museum of Fine Arts, and Boston’s Swan Boats. 

In fact, come to think of it, an afternoon in Boston would be a perfect way to celebrate my birthday.  Tea at the Ritz (not that they call it the Ritz anymore) … a walk around Newbury Street … window shopping in stores that are too rich for my blood.  I enjoy a stroll through the Bay Back.  Peeking in the brownstones …looking for the purple panes of glass.  (Is it true what they say?  That the purple glass in Beacon Hill’s luxury homes are original glass?)

“Older is better” I tell myself.  I prefer old vine Zinfandels to cabernets.  I listen to the “oldies” station on the radio (just like my dad).  And a man going grey at the temples with old money makes my heart beat a little faster.

Before you think I have one foot in the grave (like that rich man with the old money – and hopefully a teeny little heart condition), let me just tell you that sometimes I still like to walk on the wild side….try a little something new.  I had dinner at a Moroccan restaurant called Tangierino in Charlestown last month.  And I’m eager to try the Ethiopian food at Asmara in Cambridge.  So what if dinner starts at 5:30 – it’s easier to get a table that way!

I don’t like the din of restaurants when they get too crowded anyway.  I can barely hear the person sitting across the table from me.  And after all isn’t that what it’s all about?  Isn’t getting together – whether to celebrate my birthday or just another weekend – about connecting with other people?  It’s not about being seen at the trendiest restaurant.  It’s not about the wine – or even the food.  It’s just about having a good time.

I guess my big night out will likely consist of dinner in!

Personally Speaking

Sure technology is great when it saves time…when it makes us more efficient. But how many times has Map Quest steered you wrong?  Isn’t it just easier to call for directions, have an actual human alert you to the latest road construction, and give you a tip about the best place to park?

 I prefer the personal touch.  Remember that?  Real human interaction.

 I went to a local garage to get my car inspected.  I pulled up, walked into the office and was greeted by…absolutely no one!  There was another customer sitting there but no garage attendant.  After a while, the near-mute customer instructed me that the correct procedure was to return to my vehicle, sit in my car, and wait until a garage employee waved me in.  Talk about a lack of personal interaction!

I did as I was told.  But before the second song on my Livingston Taylor CD was over, I decided that I was burning gas for no good reason and didn’t need to stand for this.  I got on my cell phone and called my dealership who assured me that as long as I arrived by 4pm they’d be happy to do the inspection.  Not only did they perform the inspection right away, but they even washed my car!

You probably guessed by now that I’m the type of person who will drive miles out of her way for a full-service gas station.  And that I don’t have any patience for those silly self-check out lines at the grocery store either. 

My 30-something friends think I’m old-fashioned, but when did service go out of style?  When did having an actual conversation with your customer become bad business?  Personally speaking, I want the personal touch.

A Good Read

My niece, who lives in North Carolina, recently turned nine. I sent her a hardbound copy of the book Charlotte’s Web for her birthday.

I also gave her something even more special.  You see, along with that book came a promise.  A promise that we would get together by phone every Sunday night and discuss a book that we would read together. 

At first I wasn’t sure if she would enjoy this long-distance book group.  Still, I was looking forward to our first meeting.  As a kid, I always had my nose in a book (still do), but I don’t remember ever reading Charlotte’s Web, so I thought it would be a journey of discovery for both of us.  Boy, was I right!

I was horrified to learn on page one that Mr. Arable had plans to slaughter old Wilbur the pig because he was the runt of the litter.  I was sure that our first book discussion was doomed to failure and that I had scarred my niece for life.  When I called her that Sunday I asked if she was afraid of the story.  “Oh no Auntie Debbie” she assured me “where do you think bacon comes from?”  So much for her naiveté and youthful sensibilities! 

Since then we’ve read Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Allie Finkle’s Rules for Girls.

I’ve learned a lot about my niece from these book group meetings.  Sure we discuss the story, but we also end up talking about our own lives — our troubles and triumphs. 

It’s so satisfying that reading – something I’ve always enjoyed  – has brought us together in this special way.

As Walt Disney once said, “There is more treasure in books than in all the pirate’s loot on Treasure Island.”

Ahhh, Summer!

While summer is still a promise, and the weather is warm rather than muggy, and I’m not running the air conditioner all day and complaining about the electric bill, I thought I’d share all my favorite things about this — the most cherished of all seasons.

In summer you can eat ice cream every day and no one says a word.  In fact, when it’s really hot out, ice cream is almost medicinal.  Nothing’s better for cooling you down than a double scoop of watermelon sherbet.

Bermuda shorts and a polo shirt are the uniform of choice in my office.  In fact, because the traffic on route 3 South can be such a bear on Friday afternoons with folks heading to the Cape, we actually close a few hours early each week.

Downtown Plymouth comes back to life…there are free outdoor concerts…oh, and did I mention the ice cream?

In summer everyone seems happier, kids are homework-free.  It’s the only time I see my neighbors – and everyone’s content to hang out on the front lawn and catch up after a long, cold winter.

The sun sets late into the night.  I can sleep with the windows open, and awaken to the sound of birds chirping.  There’s a scent of roses, smoke from a backyard barbeque, and freshly mowed grass in the air.

In summer I get to feel the sand between my toes again and relax to the sound of waves as they lap against the shore.  Even screaming kids on the beach don’t seem to bother me.  Men much too young for me in board shorts and tattoos walk around shirtless exposing a chest perfected at the gym all winter.

In summer everyone’s too hot to eat, much less cook.  A salad is a perfectly acceptable dinner and the tomatoes are red, ripe, and plentiful.

With the exception of Christmas, all of the best holidays take place in summer:  Memorial Day, the 4^th of July, Labor Day. 

Enjoy it now folks…Halloween will be here before you know it!

In the bunker

As a kid, my favorite place to hide was under the covers.  I’d take a flashlight and a book to bed.  I relished the solitude of my own little world.

 There are times now – as an adult – that I still need to hide.  But not from my parents.  Well, not just from my parents – from everyone!  From phone calls…friends…responsibilities…work.  I call it “going into the bunker.”

 I don’t go often.  But when I do go “in the bunker” it’s like taking a day-long vacation from my life.  And when I come out – back into the world – I’m refreshed.  I’m more eager to participate in just about anything. 

I find that after taking time to just be with myself, it’s easier to be with others.  To do FOR them.  To give them whatever they need.

I’m lucky.  I can “go in the bunker” practically any time I want.  It’s easy for me to check out of my real life for a day because I live alone, don’t have kids, and am generally a responsible sort of person.

I know that not everyone has that luxury.  But I think we all find our own ways to “drop out of life” when we need to.  My girlfriend hits a local spa. My athletic friends go for a run.  My sister leaves the kids with her husband and goes shopping; she doesn’t’ buy anything she just “shops.”  It’s really all the same thing.  A time when we can be alone with our thoughts — uninterrupted – or without any thoughts at all.  A time to decompress.

In the heat of battle, soldiers dive into bunkers to protect themselves from incoming enemy fire.  I contend that us civilians need bunkers of our own.

10 Rules for Easy Living

Life is easy.  Being disorganized is hard.  Here are my 10 Rules for Easy Living

 

1. Clean as you go – in the kitchen, and throughout the house.  I never spend a lot of time cleaning because my house is always clutter-free.
2. Have a Place for Everything and Put Everything in its Place.  I never lose my keys because they’re always in a bowl by the front door. 
3. Never touch a piece of paper more than once.  Read it, act on it, move on!  That goes for personal mail as well as E-mails. 
4. Replace everything before you need to – gas, milk, lightbulbs.  When you’ve used up 75% of anything, that’s the time to buy more.
5. Make a List, Check it Twice.  When you’re feeling overwhelmed, stop, take a deep breath and make a list.  I make LOTS of lists.
6. Take a Test Drive.  When going to an important appointment – like a job interview — do a dry run a few days before.  Don’t depend on Mapquest.
7. Keep it simple.  My electronics aren’t fancy, but they get the job done.  The more bells and whistles they have, the more things can go wrong.
8. Unplug.  I don’t need to be accessible to everyone 24/7.  You’d be surprised how other people end up figuring stuff out for themselves when you’re unreachable.
9. Follow the Rules & Don’t Cut Corners.  Folks just end up making more work for themselves when they don’t do it right the first time.
10. Have a Support System.  Life is easier when you have friends and loved ones to share it with. 

Feeding Yourself

When I was married, I would rush home after a stressful day at work to cook my husband a nice dinner.

 

Did you hear what I said?  I’d cook him a nice dinner.  Of course I’d eat too.  But I cooked for him.

 

In my family, cooking is how we express our love and concern for one another.  When I got a big fat raise at work, I called my parents and they invited me over for dinner.  Years ago, when I got laid off, I called to tell them my troubles – they invited me over for dinner then too.  In my family, cooking someone dinner is how we celebrate their victories…and how we console someone when they’re defeated.

 

Now that I live alone, I hardly ever cook.  I don’t rush home after work to cook for myself!  Instead I eat a bowl of cold cereal or have some soup out of a can. 

 

Maybe I need to start caring for myself as much as I do others.  Maybe I should start rushing home to cook myself a nice meal complete with all four food groups.

 

I don’t think my behavior’s atypical.  I think lots of us take better care of others than we do ourselves.  But that needs to stop now.  Today!

 

I’m not suggesting that we stop taking care of our fellow man…or stop doing unto others as we would have them do unto us…I’m just saying that we should do unto ourselves as we do unto others!  We should at least treat ourselves as well as we treat the other guy.

 

So do me a favor, this weekend, instead of having someone else over for dinner.  Cook a nice, healthy meal for yourself!

Exercise can be Hazardous to your Health

My 44^th birthday is just around the corner.  The doctor tells me that as we get older, exercise becomes even more important.  Weight bearing exercise can increase bone density.  Getting your heart pumping is supposed to be as good for your mind as it is for your body. 

 

I tried to take my doctor’s advice, but I’ve discovered that exercise can actually be hazardous to your health.

 

The first nice day this spring, I put on a pair of rumpled sweatpants and a t-shirt.  I laced up my sneakers and went for a walk.  I envisioned a healthy brisk 3-mile walk around the Pembroke neighborhood where I live.  I didn’t expect that I would be attacked by wild animals.  But about a mile and a half from my apartment complex, among an expanse of colonial houses with big yards and SUV’s in the driveway, I had a run in with a wolf…a fox…a dingo…I don’t know what it was, but it scared the heck out of me and sent me actually RUNNING back home. 

 

Fearing any more wild animal attacks, I headed inside to the gym, but that was equally unsuccessful.  First of all, there were the mirrors.  (I don’t know which was worse the fox or the mirrors!)  There are two things that you should never watch yourself do, and one of them is exercise!    In addition to that, I’m not a big fan of sweating – it just doesn’t seem, I don’t know – lady like.  I know it’s healthy.  It eliminates toxins from your body and all that, but yuck.  I’ve seen other girls on the treadmill, they glow, some even perspire — but I sweat!  My hair gets all matted, mascara gets in my eyes.  It’s not a pretty sight! 

 

Swimming seemed like a good alternative.  (After all there’s no sweating.) I packed my bag, drove to the Y.  I signed in, went to the locker room, but on my bathing suit, looked in the mirror and headed right back home.  (Damn those mirrors!)

 

I tried the stationery bicycle.  I mean, you are sitting down after all, how hard can it be?  But after 45 minutes of pedaling and not getting anywhere I just got exasperated! 

 

In a last ditch effort to “just do it,” I took up golf.  I bought a set of clubs at Target, signed up for lessons with a pro at the country club.  I even practiced Saturdays at the driving range.  My drives went 100 feet – not yards – feet!  Straight as an arrow, but not too far.  Despite men in funny pants complaining about it all the time, golf is a forgiving sport.  With the skills I had, I could still play a course or two – but you don’t burn many calories trying to hit a little ball through a lit-up windmill.

 

Now, although I’ve generally avoided physical activity my entire life, I’ve somehow ended up with bursitis in my shoulder.  I’m going to physical therapy twice a week and am doing strength exercises in my bedroom while watching TV.  I was making progress too, but last week, as I was doing my third set of these flying butterfly exercises I got a pinched nerve in my neck.  I’m worse off than before. 

 

See, what did I tell you?  Exercise is hazardous to your health…staying on the couch – now that’s safe!