Category Archives: Aging

Vision Boards and More: from 1 to 2 to 17?

“I have 17 of them”, she said, matter-of-factly, when the subject of creating vision boards came up in our group.

This was said during a women’s meet-up group I attended when Mr. NOA and I were living in the Denver metro several years ago. I pushed past my insecurities and joined this group online as a way to make friends in our new environment. I wasn’t yet working, and I fervently desired to establish connections with others. New others.

I can’t recall what my response to this comment was. I suspect it was something along the lines of “Wow”. Said of course, with an undeniable feeling of envy inside of me, as this was a stunning woman with flowing auburn hair and a petite and fit frame. I remember snarkily thinking “must be nice to have that kind of time and resources to create that many vision boards”.

Suffice it to say that this woman and I did not strike up a friendship. If my memory serves, she attended no more than 2 of our get-togethers.

I wish I had inquired as to where she displayed these creations. I had one measly vision board myself and hadn’t at that point considered creating any more of them. I figured I would just add to or switch things out on that one as time progressed.

Time is a funny thing though, isn’t it? Now, 7 odd years later, I’ve got two vision boards. And I am absolutely not opposed to creating more of them. I am a visual person, which is ironic, as I’ve recently learned that I have “pre-glaucoma” in my eyes. It hasn’t affected my vision. Not yet anyway. So this leads me to feel precious about my vision. It feels good and right to create new vision boards for myself at this juncture. I may only be able to clearly see them for a short number of years, for all I know.

Or, I could do something different, and repurpose picture frames or pick some up at a thrift store and try my hand at making some original art, using images and random do-dads I already have. Between that and vision boards, I think I could easily create at least 17 of them. Maybe I could make that a creative goal for 2026.

While I can’t deny I am a person who has a special talent for biting off more than I can chew, this actually feels doable to me. One of the things I am especially drawn to when it comes to being intentional is creating, so this goal of getting to 17 framed pieces of art in 2026 fits the bill.

How about you? Have you ever created a vision board? One in which you affix pictures of places you want to inhabit, quotes that uplift you? Silly things that amuse only you?

Please share in the comments!

I Feel Bad about my Arms

Years ago, I started reading a book (possibly a memoir?) by Nora Ephron. When she wrote something to the effect of “I feel bad about my neck”, in that she felt it needed covering because as she’d gotten older the skin started looking crepey. I stopped reading after that line, because I just couldn’t relate. It felt like she was speaking to women “of a certain age” (aka much older than me at that time). And my neck was perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch.

Now I kinda get it. Only for me, it’s about my arms.

I was looking in the mirror a month or so ago and decided I didn’t like the appearance of my upper arms. They are flabby and jiggly and just overall unattractive. As I enjoy wearing sleeveless tops in the summertime, I decided to address this situation with intention.

Now, I’ve always had little upper-arm strength. I remember being one of maybe two or three other kids in middle school who were unable to do that thing where you hang by your arms on a metal bar. I also have hereditary peripheral neuropathy, which causes my limbs to frequently give me that oh-so-fun feeling of pins and needles, in particular when I stay in one position for too long.

I figured the simplest route to reducing my upper arm flab would be to incorporate doing push-ups on my bedroom floor during my regular morning yoga stretching/praying session.

Guess what? I can do up to 27 sit-ups now! Granted they are not the traditional, full-on push-ups; they are the kind of push-ups where I’m on my knees so that it’s only the upper half of my body weight in play. Then, I will do up to 4 actual, real push-ups. Well, real enough. I estimate that I’ve gone from moving 1/2 inch toward the floor to 1 whole inch since I began this routine.

This might seem quite pathetic to you all, especially if you’re the sporty type. But I see it as a baby step toward my goal of having less flabby arms and a stronger core. If I just remain consistent with it, I ought to get results.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

For your auditory enjoyment, may I present an uplifting, groovy little tune sung by a one-of-a-kind artist, Ray LaMontagne.

Cultivating Joy

It’s my birthday week and part of me wants to give myself a pass and skip publishing a blog post. Part of me wants to go on and on about how it’s my birthday week and it’s so awesome because I’ve got fun plans and Gee Whiz I made it to 58 and I’ve still got all of my original parts (minus the tonsils).

But if I’ve learned nothing about my path as a blogger, it’s that skipping one week of publishing is often a slippery slope to going another week, then another, until I’m almost paralyzed by the thought of ever writing another thing within the blogosphere.

So, here’s my post this week.

Ha ha ha!

I’m actually trying really hard not to crack here, people.

While everything in this country appears to rapidly be going to hell in a handbasket, including Mr. NOA (a fed employee) being potentially on the brink of losing his status as a remote worker, I’m doing my best to remain intentional.

As in intentional about cultivating joy in my life. Cultivating joy through action is a healthy way to give myself a positive (if temporary) distraction from the horrors of it all. I think cultivating joy is a solid form of resistance.

It’s simple things, like the banana bread (with milk chocolate chips, no less) baking in my oven right now. Spending time in my rec room organizing old photos while listening to whatever is playing on The Current (MPR’s super cool radio station that I’ve spoken about in this space in the past). Writing short little blog posts to share with you and keeping our blogging connections going within this community. Geeking out about the SNL 50 docu-series streaming on Peacock.

For shits and giggles, here’s some photos I found commemorating my childhood birthday celebrations. Left to right: my 5th birthday, my 1st birthday (no hair, didn’t care), my 10th birthday, and my 7th birthday.

I hope that each one of you finds ways to cultivate joy in these challenging times. Please share in the comments if and how you are cultivating your own joy these days. I’m always open to suggestions from you, my friends!

As you well know by now, music is a crucial ingredient in the recipe of my life. On that note, here’s my new favorite song. It’s got a melody that I love to whistle along to and the video is just so very sweet.

2025 WOTY: Intentionality

I have chosen my WOTY (word of the year): Intentionality.

The reasoning behind this is that going into my 58th year on this planet, I feel the urge to seize the day, to make better choices with how I spend my time and mental energy, to live with gusto. I guess you could say I’m in a “now or never” mindset.

The definition of the word “intentionality”, according to me before I googled it, is this: a way of going through day-to-day life with purpose, open eyes, open ears, and an open heart.

Now, for the actual definition, from dictionary.com: 1) “the fact or quality of being done on purpose or with intent, and 2) “an attitude of purposefulness, with a commitment to deliberate action.”

My description of intentionality falls short, of course. I think it’s because it doesn’t include the words “deliberate action”. This is all making me realize that while my 2024 WOTY: “growth”, a worthy word for certain, “intentionality” is a superior word, because it is more specific. It involves taking action with purpose. The word “growth”, to me now, seems wishy-washy in comparison.

I am in the beginning stages of the process of identifying how I can bring intentionality into all aspects of my life.

I share my initial thoughts about the ways in which I aim to practice intentionality in part because I need to be held accountable for this endeavor. I’m choosing to trust that some of you reading this today will help me with that on some level. Though clearly I must hold myself accountable first and foremost.

Please know that I’m happy to be your cheerleader this year as well, whatever your goals are or whatever your WOTY is!

Here are some specifics on how I’d like to embrace intentionality in 2025:

Creative Expression

Engage with it more, in fun, new-to-me-ways, including but not limited to creative writing. Arts and crafts projects come to mind, but there’s also the ordinary, day-to-day opportunities to express my creativity: what I choose to wear, how I style my hair, how I decorate my house.

Physical and Mental Health

Continue on the healthier eating path that Mr. NOA and I began over the last two weeks. Making medical appointments that I’ve been putting off and prioritizing exercise. Being real with myself about my bandwidth.

Finances

This translates into buying local as much as possible. Buying especially from small businesses (like my favorite thrift stores). Reacquainting myself with the stuff I already have, whether that results in donating it, selling it, tossing it, re-purposing it, or starting to use it again. As opposed to just mindlessly buying more stuff.

This is what I’ve got so far, friends. I’ll be deep-diving into learning all I can about living with intentionality on the interwebs. I look forward to sharing what I learn along the way.

And now for a song that I’ve long loved which aligns with my WOTY and sense of clarity and optimism for this new year.

Piecemealing: Inside and Outside

For all intents and purposes, winter here in Minnesconsin is winding down (not like it ever wound up, and yes I’m probably inadverdently manifesting blizzard conditions before this month is out), and spring is knocking at the door.

During this transitional period, I’ve been working on the inside. Preparing for working outside.

In addition to working on specific areas to improve my internal life, Mr. NOA and I are working together and individually on the inside of our home. Organizing, cleaning, and slightly re-decorating this joint. All so we are ready, once the temps allow, to work (and play) outside. We have grand plans for our gardens. The hope is that we can improve on our lackluster gardening situation in 2023.

I think what’s so cool about this house (house number 8, if you care to read) is that it has so much potential. I imagine us living here for another 15 years, give or take. If it’s forever I’m good with that too. As we age, however, it’s likely that we’ll want to live in a home without stairs. I am an optimist, but also a realist.

There’s a multitude of home improvements we’d like to do, big and small. With the intention of staying here for a good long time, we have the luxury of doing it all piecemeal. It doesn’t all have to be done by a certain date or even a certain year. It’s as time/money/energy allows.

Of course, life is gonna life, right? Any number of things could happen that would derail our plans. That’s why I think it’s good to continue working internally, on myself. To increase my mental and emotional resilience, to become a better communicater, and a more self-aware person.

I think both inside and outside, I’ve got my work cut out for me.

Now for the song that came to mind as I finished writing this piece. This is such a lovely cover of the classic song from the Byrds and I think you’ll enjoy it too 🙂

Ageism and Me: Growing through Discomfort

In a work setting, have you ever had to participate in an exercise, individually, then gather as a group later to discuss the experience?

I have. It made me super uncomfortable. Which I suppose is the point of these kinds of things.

It happened when I was working for a non-profit that served senior citizens, which is the population the agency I now work for serves.

The exercise was about uncovering our unconscious bias. Individually, we were directed to view images of different sorts of people. Hispanic, Black, Young, Male, Old, Asian, White, Female, etc. You get the gist. We were to, without thinking, select which of two images before us that we preferred (to work with). To just go with our instincts, suspending self-judgement.

A tall order.

The most disturbing result, for me, was that my preference skewed towards young people. I was working at a place that served old people, folks. It made me question everything. Am I an ageist? Am I not supposed to be serving senior citizens because of my unconscious bias? Should I switch paths and become a teacher, like my Dad always thought I should?

I was beside myself for a bit.

But, that was then and this is now. In the ensuing years, my perspective on aging and relating with older people has evolved. I’ve certainly moved past feeling terrible about this revelation.

It’s true that I love interacting with young people. I’ve got a grandson who just turned 10 and I embrace being his grandma. I find him, as well as plenty of other people younger than me, inspiring. Being in the company of youngins invigorates me. It often gives me hope for our collective future as a species.

It’s also true that there are plenty of people older, in some cases, quite a bit older than I, who I greatly enjoy being around. Those elders I find interesting, wise, and inspiring. Not only do I have the great fortune of having a pair of second parents (Mr. NOA’s mom and dad) in my life, but I also get opportunities to interact with other senior citizens in my work life (clients and volunteers) regularly.

These people model for me generosity of spirit. Generosity of wisdom. Generosity of their time and their money. I wholeheartedly respect and appreciate them for that.

And, it’s not lost on me that I am a Gen X’r (who is actively pondering what that even means to me personally) who is a senior citizen herself. I mean, most senior discounts are given once you turn 55…and I’m 2 years beyond that now.

I guess my point is this (and yes, this makes me sound like the seasoned crone I am): age, smage. I’m more interested in other characteristics of those I work and spend time with, such as their senses of humor, their talents and skills, and their outlooks on life.

As a nation and a world, we are living in interesting times. We all have our unconscious biases, whether we participate in exercises that reveal them or not. Ageism is but one “ism” that we ought to be honestly and openly discussing, don’t you think?

Aging is Rad

Later this month, I’ll be turning 57. I’m closer to the end of my life on this earth than I am to the beginning of it.

I realize that sounds dramatic, but it’s true.

This is why I feel a sense of urgency to get on with living a fuller life. I want to have the experiences that, and conversations with people who light me up and expand my worldview. I say this of course for self-serving reasons to an extent, but my true, ultimate goal is to leave a positive mark on the world when all is said and done. When I am said and done.

Yes, that was a bit on the dramatic side too, but it’s also true. Another truth: I waver between taking myself too seriously and not taking myself seriously enough.

This urgency I feel is the crux of why “growth” is my word of the year. I can’t expect the things I want to happen to actually happen if I don’t grow.

Bottom line for me is that time is a precious commodity that I’ve gotten really good at wasting. And I’m done with that baloney.

I have come to the understanding that being in my 50’s is pretty rad.

Do you all remember the actor Justine Batemen from the 80’s sitcom “Family Ties”? She inspired me to re-think aging, back when I saw this video in 2023.

The one thing I love about being in my 50’s is the wisdom I’ve gained. As Justine said in this clip, I’ve never been smarter and never had more connections now that I’m older. It’s true. It’s true for all of us who are in our 50’s and beyond, don’t you think?

Not that I couldn’t be smarter or have even more connections. That’s yet another reason that “growth” is my WOTY.

At almost 57, I’m more confident and aware of the skills I have which were gained through trial and error. I am more aware of my shortcomings but, and this is the most important part: I’m not as obsessed with them as I once was.

I recently joined Threads, after exiting the app previously known as Twitter. I’m enjoying it so much more and here’s an example of why that is. I was scrolling it this morning and came upon a quote I’d never read before from Betty Friedan. It encapsulates how I’m feeling about aging.

Your comments on this blog post would be much appreciated, because I believe our attitudes about aging ought to be examined. Who’s with me?

The Space I’m In

It’s Sunday morning and I’m in the camper (aka our current home) with Hubs and Radar.

Radar is sitting across from me at the dinette, thoroughly engrossed in licking his nether regions. He’s on the bench seat that I keep covered in a beach towel for his comfort each night.

The summer is almost over.

The summer of 2022 has been a little wild for me. Certainly strange. There’s been some surprises (of which I am generally a fan), good and bad in unequal measure.

What’s your take on life’s surprises?

This summer has also been invigorating: the fresh and clean breezes, frequent deer sightings, the birdsongs. Stimulating but also grounding for me. Radar making new friends.

Radar with the neighborhood pooch, Maya

It’s been a memorable season of our married life for sure. Living in a 21 foot camper for more than 2 months has been interesting, to say the least. We’ve joked that moving about the camper simultaneously is like playing “Twister”.

This upending of our lives to move back to Wisconsin has made me more acutely aware of a slew of things; namely the things, ideals, and people I will die on a hill for. It’s solidified my priorities. Given me more clarity.

I can now see more clearly how I want to live. I’m devoted to learning and growing, from my creative writing habit to gardening to grandparenting. My MIL has offered to teach me how to can, using the vegetables in our new-to-us garden. And I’m eager to get back to learning how to play my ukelele.

I think I just seriously aged myself in that last paragraph.

Whatever.

Maybe I will learn how to play and sing along to this lovely medley:

Isn’t this fantastic?

We are now less than 2 weeks out from moving into our sweet new house.

I’m aiming to do more of the enjoying of the present than wishing the time away.

But. It’s. Hard.

Because my head is swimming with ideas about what furniture is going to go where in the new house. The color schemes in each room. Where that beautiful new art piece with the lillies is going to be hung.

I’m missing our youngest, who has remained in Colorado. Though I am a bit less worried now about how they are going to fare without us a half hour drive away than I was when we arrived in Minnesconsin land in June. They now work at a place where they get to provide direct support to a very marginalized population. I am incredibly proud of them and hopeful they will persist, as I’m certain that workplace is better with them in their presence. And vice-versa.

While his mom’s at work, I’m taking care of our 8 year old grandson for several days between now and when we move into our house. 3rd grade in a new school starts right after we move in.

I think it’s fair to say that as a grandma, I’m a work in progress. I continue to learn as I go. But I’m up for it. The kid is so worth it. He’s been through a lot. So many changes in a short period of time.

My grandson is very bright, but also quite oppositional and reactionary. He’s also very funny, but sometimes gets carried away with it physically and ends up accidentally hurting himself or wrecking something. Suffice it to say, he requires a lot of energy from me.

Note to self: schedule a massage, STAT!

As you can see, I’m also a work in progress when it comes to self-compassion. I suspect many of you are too.

I have probably said this before in one of my blog posts, but I know for sure that writing these personal essays and getting them out there in the world is, for me, part of my self-compassion practice.

Anyone else feel this way about blogging?

Let me leave you, dear patient readers, with this creative rendition of a classic, feel-good Beatles song. Because life goes on. And as a tik-toker I came upon recently said “we’re not here for a long time, but we’re here for a good time”.

Isn’t this kid something else?

Weight Schmeight

A couple of months ago, when I was still employed, my co-worker Maureen, laughing her head off, presented this book to me. She had discovered it while sorting through donations for the thrift store portion of the non-profit we worked for.

This, I think, is one of the simple things in life to treasure: working with someone who likes and appreciates you. Someone who’s thoughtful, generous, and knows how to make you laugh. I just love this woman. She always lightened my mood.

I read this book shortly after she gave it to me.

It’s important to note that the author, Wendy Reid Crisp, wrote this in 1995. Because of that, some of her commentary is not necessarily applicable or relatable, in my view, to the upper middle-aged women of today. Like me.

Yet there were some bits and pieces that struck a chord with me.

Here’s one excerpt that I have a little something to say about:

“I’m not going to….3. Introduce body parts as topics of conversation.

In New England, there’s a group of women in their sixties who have been friends for forty years and who meet annually for a long weekend at a good spa. Their first event, on Friday night, is an “organ recital”. Everyone recites ad nauseam the state of her organs-heart, uterus, lungs, kidneys-and other anatomical conditions. As it should be, for the rest of the weekend the subject of personal health is taboo”.

I love this. Having a group of friends who get together yearly at a spa sounds fabulous! I’ve had this notion for a while now that someday, I’ll have a girls weekend. My sister will be there along with my “bonus” sister (Hubs’ sister), along with a couple of my girlfriends and a few cousins. We will sip sangria in the mornings, jam out to rocking tunes, and spend time in a pool or lake lounging on giant inflatable flamingos. We will dance, we will laugh, and we will raise a little hell.

It will be epic.

But there’d be one catch: at my girls weekend, on Friday night, we will engage in newfangled version of Ms. Reid-Crisp’s “organ recital”. There will be a designated amount of time (not to exceed one hour) during which we are allowed to freely discuss all things related to our weight. We can bitch about our muffin tops. We can talk about the pros/cons of intermittent fasting. We can swap Keto recipes. But when the timer goes “ding” (yes I will bring a timer) that’s that, ladies.

I might even bring a big old jar that those in the group who utter a word about their weight at any point after our Friday night “recital” will be required to put a dollar in. Kind of like a “sear jar”. All monies collected could later be donated to Planned Parenthood or another non-profit that benefits women.

I say all this because I detest the conversations we women always seem to engage in about our bodies. Our weight issues. It bores me. It seriously irritates me. I don’t like how when one woman will look at a perfectly good tray of delicious cupcakes and make some comment like “I need one of those like I need a hole in my head”. Because then, I feel like I need to “own” the fact that I’m a little fat. Probably 10-15 lbs over what I “should” be based on my height. I always feel compelled to respond by saying I don’t “need” a cupcake either.

Like “hey girlfriend, I’m fat too!”

I just find this troubling. There’s so much more to us women than how we look in our jeans. Or how we think others think we look in our jeans, I suppose.

And there’s so many more interesting topics of conversation, right? The books we’ve been reading, the vacations we’re planning, the new job we are applying for, the state of the world, our favorite movies, who’s pissing us off at work, who’s pissing us off at home, caring for aging parents, fun experiences we’ve shared together, and so very much more.

Sometimes inspiration comes from an unexpected source. Thank you Maureen, and thank you Ms. Reid-Crisp.

***Featured Image courtesy of https://www.healthygirl.co.za/20-healthy-girl-body-positive-quotes/

At almost 55

Super self-indulgent title, right?

Yet I think it works.

Buckle up while I summarize my current status:

Tomorrow I turn 55. I don’t recall freaking out inside about my birthday since the day I turned 31 (for real). But, I accept it. What’s the alternative? There is none.

Shit, I wouldn’t want to turn back the hands of time even if I could.

While “balance” is my word for 2022, “Moving Forward” is my new mantra. Or “Progress, not Perfection”. It’s a toss up.

In that spirit, off I go.

Hubs and I’s empty nesting status has been on hiatus for the last 13 days. We are now a household of 5, for the time being. It’s nothing I want to delve into on this platform at this time. But it’s important for you to know if you’re going to stick around, because my whole world is in the most transitional period since 2014, and because I know that part of my self-care routine (I despise this overused and abused term but am in the flow and choose not to google synonyms right now) is writing these blog posts. Because it’s going to affect everything you read here from this point on to some degree or other.

I’m determined to focus on the present moment. One day at a time. While of course planning for the near future (aka our move back to Wisconsin). Along with simultaneously doing my best to wrap up the Colorado part of my path in the neatest, most colorful bow, with the exception of my talented artist kid Rabbie and Karl the cockeyed cat, who intend to remain here, work-wise and beyond.

One thing I don’t believe I have done a good job of communicating to you about on this blog is that I love numbers. I find meaning in them. I enjoy making mathematical calculations in my head. I notice numbers all the time. It’s kinda weird.

That, among other reasons, is why I’m going to simply share the Top 5 things that are making me happy these days.

  • Hearing and seeing my almost 8 year old grandson laugh at his own jokes.
  • Having the support of my employer with reducing my weekly hours.
  • Listening to books on Audible (Jen Mann’s most recent one simply spoke to me while making me laugh).
  • Witnessing the bravery of my adult children amidst life’s changes and challenges.
  • Blogging, and the fact that I feel great enthusiasm about writing on topics I haven’t covered in the almost 5 years since I started this blog. The primary topic I’m feeling now is under the umbrella of “Work”.

This song is dedicated to my kids. I think you might like it too.