Switcheroo

"Oh no, I wouldn't eat that. It has fat in it." There seems to be a terrible fear of fat among some. Everything the fat fearfuls eat is tasteless, bland and unimaginative  but this makes them only happier. They fry in chemical-laden spritz-ons, crunch leaves with fatless  additive-laden dressings and drink caffeine-free coffee with cream that comes from a factory not a cow. So you take a look at their bodies, these rigidly disciplined clothes hanger frames who  avoid everything with natural fats and what do you see? There they are, human wire coat hangers. Their bones show, their rears are flat, their cheeks sunken and their hair lank. Their brows however, are strangely knit and their eyes rove back and forth searching for labels that say, lite, fat free, low cal, no carb.   They live with green bits in their teeth, hands forever knotted in salad fork rictus. They read all labels for calorie and carb counts. You hear them in restaurants when they aren't talking about their diets, perusing the menu for items without calories. You see them at the gym treading and lifting and groaning and cycling going nowhere fast. They sweat and say "no pain without gain" but they mean "no gain, yippee, if pain". They worry, they fret, they know of nothing else but losing weight. Their eyes search magazines with ads for substances that will take off pounds fast: diets, shots, drinks, boxed meals, bars, powders. Their entire lives are fixated upon losing weight. They revere the Hollywoodites whose near-death bony bodies clearly reflect addiction to pills. On the other side of the world, there are people who can't put on enough weight. They would laugh at the diet foods and gladly eat as many calories as their counterparts shun.  One wonders why the two don't simply shift into the others' countries. It seems a fair and happy exchange.

Marry Mary, Not

Marry? Elder marriage can lead to problems but there are some women who  have nothing else on their minds but finding a man to marry. They feel that they must have a loving and caring relationship. It works when one is young perhaps, but when the clock has gone 'round many, many times, marriage is likely not the answer.  These dreamy eyed dear ladies hang around places were they might find an elderly gent to entice. Cruises, guided tours, resorts and local bars are fraught with these needy females. Rarely do they  find the right man to cuddle up to on a cold winter's night.  Old men, for the most part, age faster than women physically and it is they who seek someone to comfort them. Many male oldsters who are realisitic enough to realize that the twenty year olds are simply not going to nod their way, hope for a lady their age, with means and good health, so that Mrs. Goody will take care of them. Taking on an elderly male ends up in doing for them: laundry, meals, cleaning and often tending to their medical requirements. In return there may be "company" if the chap can hear what is being said or isn't dozing in his chair with the hockey volume turned up loud enough for the whole neighbourhood.  Old men, once the wedding vows are taken, can turn into Mr. Cranky or Selfish when homebound. They have expectations: meals on time, only their favorite TV programs and going off daily to meet their chrones down at the local. Wise ladies do not marry. They date, and date they should. When you "date", your fella calls on you and you go to dinner or a movie or a concert or have a pleasant evening at home.  At the end of the date, you wave good-bye and he goes home.  He takes care of himself or has someone else do it. You get a good night's sleep without the snoring, yours excepted of course, and if you want curlers in your hair all night, so be it. Your life, your choices are all your own. Freedom si, marriage, no.

Two Faces Seen

Janus, mascot of January has two faces, one looking to the east and the other, to the west. There are people like that, too. What you see and hear on one side, is not what happens on the other. We've all encountered this type. They smile like polar bears until your back is turned and then they tear you apart much like our paw-endowed furry creature in his world. The worst part of this double faced human animal is that it draws you in with flattery and promises. These predators are masters of guile. They make you feel that you are a best friend while readying their bag of tricks for you to drop willingly inside and spill out your most private thoughts. For fame's sake, they can shake out those thoughts for all to see thus making you look bad while they, the bearers of the news, become the paparazzi of the moment.  It all seems to work rather nicely until finally everyone catches on. Friends soon shun the yentas and no more secrets are shared in that direction. But let's look at the reasons why this kind of social phenomenon occurs.  First the secret spiller needs attention for him/herself and doesn't care how it happens. They are impervious and incurable. I can think of one who was formerly a handsome individual but now faded, needed to find another way of drawing in her admiring crowd. This person used flattery and quasi friendship to pull folks in so that they would confide in her. Flattery works well on the weak. The perp spilled out her closet of personal ills so that her victim would readily divulge hers.  Even those she formerly and publicly disliked were invited into her circle. I'll tell you mine, you tell me yours sort of club. She knew none of them were nasty enough to spill her tales around,  but she collected theirs to increase her popularity  if need be. Kids call it playing "mean girls". Guys don't often do this. They just clam up or use their fists but women sometimes resort to this lethal but less overt trick.  Neither is fair.  But Time, the cure-all enters as usual. Gossip is eventually found out and justice meted. Sela.

Old is New Again

My farm grandmother, her red hair tucked under her felt hat as we gathered eggs from the hen house, said in her Hungarian accent, "I feel like a girl". I was surprised because she worked from dawn to well after dusk with not a holiday in between since my grandfather and she worked on their pioneer Saskatchewan grain operation early last century, and she did not look like any girl I had ever seen. I was a girl. Now I am an elder according to statistics but I "feel like a girl". I  have a loving relationship going. And yes, it began shortly after I became a widow. It shocked, angered and saddened some but to me, it took away nothing from my former wonderful marriage. That remains sacred. Love comes along and it's between two people, not the families of the two. For some odd reason, families oppose the happiness that their elders find and while they object violently to their own relationships being interfered with, they feel they have a duty to try and prevent their parents from enjoying the same right. "You didn't wait long enough" is one reason. That begs the question, where are the rules about "how long" one has to wait? "You didn't ask us" is another accusation. I would pose the question, do you ask me to allow your relationships? And then there are the friends who are widows and say they are disgusted with me for taking on a new relationship. Disgusted? Could there be a bit of envy there? When they find another love, I wonder what their opinion would become then.
I have heard of families going into their father's house with their keys and actually removing "mother's things she meant for us". I think they call that a crime, robbery. Living alone after a death at any age,  does not take away one's sanity, independence and the right to carry on just as before as a citizen with all the rights of those who are young, middle-aged or old. Older people are not at the mercy of their kids. Give them the respect you would expect. They have all the rights you have; all the choices you have; all the need for complete honour and respect that you deserve - and more for their need to be accepted and loved. Take a look around and see if you can fix any of these misconceptions - old IS new again.

Good-byes

It's funny how a death affects one. If it can be called "funny". There was a family death recently and the person was elderly and had a full, rich, comfortable life - for most of it. Those who say that young death is the worst are correct but one that is of someone you have known to be there a long time, it isn't easy either. It leaves a huge hole in your life. I suppose we believe that we are immortal and when death comes along, it's a kind of shock. It proves that we believe we are going to go on forever, even though we know we can't and when elders pass on, we miss them. When a famous building or tree is taken down, its spirit continues to reverberate in the mind. You say, life isn't quite the same without it.  The memories are there but, contrary to the saying you can live on through memories, you can't. Of course, you remember the good times, the happy events and even the comical ones. Eulogies have people smiling and laughing and that's all good.It relieves the tension. But in the quiet moments, you think of the examples of that missing life, what carried you along, even if it was very small. In the person I speak of today, I think of her walk: each step was deliberate and firm and true. I think of her strength and her quips: terse and final. She was the rock, the one who marched through  life and we all watched her confident direction and felt more able to, in part, carry out what we needed to do. She was not beautiful in the vain sense, in fact, some might say she was rather homely, but to me she had  true beauty that you saw in what she did and not how she looked. She pulled people together and was blunt about those who ignored their duty. When she was forgotten, she spoke out and said that she didn't like it. There were no elephants under her carpet and none allowed. Some people disliked her but they didn't disrespect her. When she had a terrible accident and had to wear a device that was not only demeaning but uncomfortable, she complained in honesty but didn't allow it to stop her from marching onward. To her, it was just another challenge that she could take on. Her beliefs were strong, sometimes too strong for others to understand, but she didn't waver. And no one tried to change her mind. It was simply what she was. And she knew herself. She would listen to the reason of others who tried to influence her, but after a thought or two, she'd stay with what she could live with thank-you very much. There were times when her human weakness showed through and if you were present, you felt privileged to be permitted to see her seldom revealed vulnerability. You could go to her and tell her your problems and she would, after a moment or two of staring into your soul,  utter a couple of firm words and get up and walk away. She did not tolerate wimps. If there was a problem, you dealt with it or you didn't come around and "belly ache" to her. Just do it and get it over with, she'd say. Then she'd head for the coffee or tea pot and sit with you while you contemplated. End of conversation, time for consideration. If you came back and told her that you had solved your situation, she would give you a one-word answer: good or fine or okay. She didn't want to listen to a long diatribe of the whys and wherefores. To her, life was simple and direct and subtlety was not brooked. And so simply, briefly and in her style, I make my farewell. Good-bye Rose.

Tidal Waves

While most loves grow slowly over time and develop on peaceful seas, the best sort, there is another form of love that is sudden and strong but inexplicably undeniable. Like a tidal wave it rips away reason and logic. It can occur in seconds and grip its subjects in  jaws that shake everything else off but the overwhelming need to follow its course. This is very troublesome love and, fortunately, one that is a rare event.  It is usually destructive but that doesn't stop its force. Like a tsunami, its power defies even fair play. The persons caught on the tide of it, are helpless. You have seen dramas where, on the altar, at a wedding, the bride or groom says, I can't, instead of, I do and runs down the aisle into the arms of their true love. That's a rather shabby example, but something akin, does happen in the tidal love situation. Its aftermath is not pretty. The ruins of such sudden change leaves a lot of detritus to clean up and what is rebuilt, if it can be or is, is never the same.  There are casualties and scars and open wounds that never quite heal. Divorce, death and affairs are not exactly the same. The latter can be dealt with by people who work in that sphere. The tidal wave sort of love is not as simply excused. Unless one has experienced it, there is no way of understanding it fully. An affair is usually a temporary matter and when the heat dissapates, it's over. but the TWL kind tosses its lovers into a whole new and uneasy world. Romeo and Juliet came to a tragic end in their story of unaccepted love but in the real world, it must survive in spite of the "slings and arrows" . The best part of TWL is the lovers. They have something rare, beautiful and larger than themselves but they have each other indeed, and that is all they need.

Passing The Test

Some lovers who are insecure will put you to the test. Often, the tests are put countless times. One's  past often creates the situation. Delving into the whys and wherefores is something only a professional should get into. For partners who are merely trying to survive the tests of their relationship, love, as they say, conquers all. The tests are not the nasty abuse ones, but are the small annoying things such as flirting with or ogling others. You can rant and nag at your partner which will get you nowhere or you can try to understand why these silly things invade your otherwise happy relationship. Usually the flirtatious individuals are  merely attempting to fortify their egos to bolster their confidence.  They "spend" flattery to receive back like attention. First a frank chat about it to your partner may work. Generally it doesn't, therefore, if you are the partner of such persons, you might treat their bad habit as a joke by joining in with the flirt: "oh I hear that too, pay no attention" or "oh oh, here we go again" or " he/she says that to all the gals/guys". Make it a fun moment. If the problem is ogling, get it out into the open, too. "Would you care to borrow my binoculars" or "am I in the way of the view" or "did I miss the parade?". Other tests may be coffeeing with a former lover or dropping in on them, all innocent of course, you are told. And most of them are. These are tests of your faithfulness. Lay down some rules and let your partner know your limits. That's only fair. Perhaps assuring your partner that he/she doesn't have to worry about your leaving without a good reason. That reason is the breaking of  rules you have both decided upon. There are exceptions sometimes and these need to be negotiated. Relationships are not hard and fast unfortunately. Flexibility is prime. If, however, the "rules" are broken or stretched too much, like anything else, they'll snap and that means it's time to break - up. You have done all you can. Stop the hurt and think about yourself.

Consider The Rose

The question "What do women want" is age-old. My answer is: consider the rose.  What women want is different for each one, naturally. Roses need sunshine and fresh air and thoughtful cultivation. They are lovely but they have thorns and therefore, need to be gathered carefully. To keep them continuously beautiful, they need tending and an understanding of their kind. There are countless roses: some elegant tea roses, some floribunda, some wild, some voluminous, some highly scented and others miniature. All are beautiful and thrive and multiply. Roses being cousins of apple trees, will bear fruit from which one can make unique savories. The rose, for all of its variety, is something to be considered with depth. It is easy to grow but complex in its mystery. It's  petals are convoluted and inter folding. It has a secret heart. When the rose grows, first it is a bud and it slowly unfolds into life sending its generous scent afar to attract what will partake of it and further its kind to flourish but roses love to chat in groups. To walk amongst them in a rose garden is to take time to allow the senses to expand and exercise. You see, touch, and smell. You rather feel a rose inside you to truly appreciate it. When you decide finally on the one special rose that is your favorite, you take it home and place it somewhere that is sunny but away from harsh elements. Some roses have strong stems and grow into sophisticated trees, while others enjoy climbing and stretching vigorously. Some like to be guided on a trellis while others whirl about in wild abandon.  Still others love to grace borders in symmetry and shy others seem to enjoy living in small spaces on decks and against walls. In winter, the rose sleeps and in spring, it awakens to form flower buds - what it has dreamed about during the cold season. In summer it stirs and begins its re-entrance, fresh and renewed. It shakes out the new dress and dances in the sun. It produces its gifts to the garden until the frost comes again. Roses thrive on attention. When they are abandoned alas and are left on their own, they may appear to die down at first, but the strongest ones survive and continue to bloom unsuppressed in gardens that have long since grown into jungles of tangled overgrowth. The old rose is hard to destroy. Those who ask what women want, really ought to take time to consider the rose.

Let's Take A Break

When you hear "let's take a break", run, don't walk to the nearest exit. No one "takes a break" to improve a relationship. If your best friend, lover, mate suggests that you do this, there is more being said than they want to say aloud. What isn't being said is what counts. No one ever needs to take a break if everything is okay. If their issue doesn't come out in words, silence will not allow it to go away. It needs to be dealt with and silence is not going to make it better. When these words are spoken, they come from someone who is too cowardly to simply say what's on his/her mind. It could be compared to asking you to hold an ice cube in your hand while they "take a break". It will not be there when they come back and  neither will the issue between friends or lovers be solved. In truth, the matter of "taking a break" is merely practising how to get by without the other.  A break doesn't heal without leaving a scar or a callus and it takes a long time before that pain goes away. So what to do? This is a judgement call if it happens. Review how much the relationship actually means. Consider what you have gained from it and whether it is worth attempting to fix or if it offers nothing and needs to be discarded entirely. If it is too one-sided, it needs to be dumped and fast. How to do this? Absolutely no contact is the most effective and least painful way.  It's a sort of amputation of what you depended upon in your previous life. But that limb, unlike the human kind, does grow back if tended when you realize that you do not need the validation of another to be the whole, fine person you are.  Time is the master gardener. Move on and smell the roses.

Colour Issues

Hair colour evokes some kind of mysterious judgement force in humans. In the animal world the brighter the better - at least during mating season. In the human world, colour is something often thought to be an indicator of one's age, sexual aura or even one's intellect. Blonds, for example, are jocularly called "dumb". The dumb blond is what got Marilyn Monroe where she remains and shall forever. Dumb or stupid? Not Marilyn. How many brunettes can lay such claim to fame over their hair? Then there is grey and the connotation that it means over-the-hill old. Black denotes witchiness and brown, mousy. Come on, people. Do we not look further than a head of hair?  Hair is up there for all to see and it's the spot that offers the best venue for making a free choice based on personal preference. If you want to be blond or stay grey or dye it black, you have the right. For some reason, blonds get the worst jibes. These days heads of thick, auburn or chestnut are flung about freely while blonds still get the old "dumb" call. Some of us, and I am a blond and always have been and will be, are very patient because we know a lot of "dumb" people who say these "dumb" things. Most of them are too frightened to take on the fun of being blond and instead go au naturel or do the dye thing. When did a blonde ever make jokes about a crazed chestnut or a raucous redhead or  a grizzled grey? Never. Tempting though. Then we have the colour experts who wouldn't buy a handkerchief without consulting that little paper in their wallets telling them Their Colours. I have one but forget to use it. I buy the colour that I love at the moment and go hang the colour vibe advice. I see what I like; I wear it.  Whatever colour you are, you're all right. Do it, wear it and delight.

Blurbs 'n Blogs

There are some readers of this blog out there who need help. They need help to fathom the meaning of a blurb or blog. Like watchers at a rugby game, they don't want to get roughed up playing it themselves, but they love to watch the fur fly when they pass it along. "See what she wrote this time!" They read things into the piece clucking their yenta tongues and nodding their heads while pursing their I-told-you-so lips. I hope to educate these folks on the matter of the blurb or blog. Yes, this amateur kind of writing is personal and like all writing, it comes from the author's experiences. Writing it out allows this sort of freedom.  Any caustic meaning found comes from the mind of the beholder. It is not my intention to do other than "write it out".  But wait. This doesn't mean that there isn't artistic license when one writes. The latter allows embellishment and the addition of a little spice and imagination to the writing. It can be fictionalized. There are no rules. That's what makes it fun to do and the blog should be regarded as fun to read, not taken seriously. Unfortunately, some of the ignorant of the blog, make a game of it for their own amusement and send it on to others saying "aha, what did I tell you - see what she did now". That is fine with me. I have no control over that sort of drivel. When you write a personal blog, you expose yourself, hoping that someone else out there feels the same way you do and that they might not feel quite so lonely in their world. They might feel a connection. There is room for comment by readers and when I have some, I delight in responding even though at times, remarks are not flattering. When you write you have to accept the mean with the nice. Both are valid and I try to respond politely if there is negative criticism. Since I am honest and give my real name, I expect those who comment, good or bad, to be as forthright as I,  in sharing thoughts.   It is all part of the fun of bloggery.

Ex-files

Exes have their ploys. They play "but I am only being friendly" or with your significant, "let's just meet only for a cup of coffee" or if they are a spam pest, "it's just an e mail or phone call, nothing serious" , or if they have the kids as ammo and they hate you, "it's a family event and they need you there". These exes file away at their former  loss, thinking that if they file away long enough, the former will surely fall in love with them all over again. It is a sad mad ploy that demeans but the ex doesn't care. Desperation is in the wind and anything to file away at their hurt helps. The ex knows that ex-cluding the newby will cause hurt and the ex hopes that might  end the relationship and the goal will be achieved. Hah, ha! But enough of these games, and their true motivation becomes clear. The truth will always out. How do you fix this ex-filing? Truth and the ex-posing of the ploy is  Step One. You have already approached the ex and appealed to have their  dependency halted but got nowhere. Step Two is to have open discussions with your mate about the ex game being played. The two of you must try to understand what is happening and why. Your being together is prime, the little "events" designed by the ex, to blast you apart will not work if you are both aware of the game. Step Three is the usual STEP OVER IT rule. The event is but  a small matter of time that you must both give up and it has no significance other than that. If you want your close relationship to last, no ex can file it away. Solidarity counts and the two of you will easily over-ride these small adversities. Your relationship that will last forever is worth a temporary inconvenience.

The Stranger

Into the life of most widows, comes "the stranger". While this stranger may not be strange, that person is deemed so by her group. No matter how old one is, the desire for a companion, a mate, a lover or whatever you want to name the he or she, is an undeniable fact. Most of the widow's caring folk, assume that grief is a suitable place for her to remain all dressed in black while they drift off to enjoy their own lives. They are not widows. Loss of a mate is abysmal. When you've had a person with you at every turn dealing with this complicated matter called life, you have been plunged into a dark, solitary place and "memories" do not fill the void. Family doesn't fill the void, nor friends. Everything is only you, that's all, and it is a great surprise when you do find another to share you life with and the rest of the world shuns you or regards you as foolish and gullible. No, you aren't. You are merely human and only another widow gets it. You hear accusations: you are just desperate, you're confused, you are being taken advantage of, you are making a big mistake - on and on. No. You are living the life that is yours and you are, like a teenager, feeling your way along as best you can. You will make mistakes or not, it is your life and your time. You don't need their shuns, warnings and dire predictions. You need their understanding. You need their support and keeping you "in the loop". It's not always a bad experience to find another mate or close friend, and often times it becomes another turn in your life, one that is satisfying and,  rarely, in many ways, better than your previous life. One has to reach out after personal loss and take what comes, savour it and continue on. Throwing oneself on a "pyre" and grieving forever may be a romantic thought of those who aren't widows, but it's not for widows who have the rest of their lives ahead.