Did You Know...

Unless you're a good and intimate friend of mine you wouldn't know that my very first aspiration in life was to be a jockey. I loved horses and, growing up on a ranch in the Santa Ynez Valley and having lots of girlfriends who rode both dressage and western, it wasn't at all unusual that I should lean in this direction. I was never attracted to the local rodeo scene, however, with its barrel racing and such. I wanted the silks...


On With the Show

The crap storm that is my health has made my practice and self-identification as a writer rather a thing of the past of late. Not only has it affected my books, it has also waylaid my intention to be a better blogger and post at least one entry each week. Too, having lost everything I'd written (five chapters) of Beyond The Bridge's Book Three, With A Song, I was knocked to my knees with the thought of having to start all over. Energy is still at a premium, but things appear to be looking up.

After a terrified run to the hospital emergency room last Saturday evening due to hypertension spikes that reached up to 173/98, I was given a series of tests, which all came back fine. But that's chronic autoimmune disease for you. I could have told the doctors my heart and brain were fine and saved myself the bill. But ER doctors know nothing about this disease...


Aging With Style

Not Gloria Steinem,
although she's
beautiful, too.
"Every place I go I tell my age because it's a form of coming out." Gloria Steinem, aged 80.

Saying 60 is the new 50 isn't accepting 60, it's saying younger is better. And lying about your age is a form of self-loathing. It's ageist and sexist, besides. I'm 62 and I can tell you that outside of my own health issues (which many women don't have), younger is not better, younger is just... younger. Growing old gracefully isn't about submitting to an accepted set of standards of what Madison Avenue purports an older woman should be, or by giving up who we are and who we want to become. We're evolving beyond that. It's about continuing the ride we began when we were young and just staring out...


Life On a Limb

Some days are just like this. You get used to it, but not really. Usually I'm wrong, but it doesn't matter because whether I'm wrong or right I still feel like this. I know that anyone living with chronic illness goes through their share of days when they feel like a burden. When a good, energetic phase passes and they're right back where they were before and, besides their own coming-to-terms, they sense the disappointment in their family and friends. That's when it becomes work again. For everybody. But mostly for the one who's ill.

People get tired of carrying the load and of not enjoying a normal life. They have to vent to someone and it's better if it's not you, right? Trouble is, that leads to paranoid imaginings. You begin to imagine your doctor is tired of hearing you whinge and that anyone who once wanted to help has begun to reject you...


This is a Good Day

On rainy days like today, when everything is tinted grey and the streets are wet and quiet, I like to remain as still as I can manage. A full week of physical labor leaves me feeling not only satisfied, but grateful. In the past week I've tended established flower beds, planted new ones, taken care of some much needed fix-its around the house, and I've even painted the front porch floor. Normally, these things would have taken me months.

The week's exertions have left me a little tired and a little sore, but no more than any woman my age should expect and, where fatigue is concerned, well, there just isn't any. I go to bed feeling that satisfying tiredness of jobs well done and goals accomplished.

Today is a good day to dedicate to music and to do some web design work. I hope your weekend is wonderful!


In My Garden a Flower Grows

I had every intention of writing a long blog entry about the phases of womanhood, but something has happened that keeps me from spending a lot of time online, especially on this blog, which may or may not be a good thing. My health had taken such a dangerous turn, I finally had to bite the bullet and make an appointment with my doctor, something I can no longer do unless I'm really just frightened for my life. The lack of healthcare insurance and no money leftover in the budget for such "frivolous" a thing as a doctor appointment are just too daunting. Just to talk to her costs me $150 and that doesn't include treatment, lab work, or prescriptions. If I go see her, my family doesn't eat for a week. Welcome to America.
But lest you think this is an entry of "unpatriotic" faultfinding and whining, I move onward...