Looking for Sympathy

I'm having a hard time gaining any sympathy for my injury. I'm limping around like an accident victim and as soon as people find out my knee injury was caused by dancing they have no sympathy for me. My close friends are the worse...they laugh.

All my life I have never suffered in silence. If I had a cold the whole world would know because I'd tell them. If I had the flu I'd make sure to milk every ounce of sympathy from anyone who would listen to me. God forbid that one of my few illnesses caused me to throw up because, not only would I phone people to inform them of the catastrophic event, but I'd also cry in deep sympathy for myself. My friend, Sylvia, derisively asked me how I was ever able to bear children. It was painful, very, very painful.

I'm also empathetic...I cry when I see someone else cry (sometimes people I don't even know). I can't watch the news if they present grieving relatives because it breaks my heart. I can't read newspaper articles about cruelty. I can't tolerate fighting either staged or real.

Since I have such a soft heart, doesn't anyone think I deserve a little sympathy for my damn sore knee???

Update on Knee and Noise

The knee is very slowly improving and I'm becoming more confident it will heal completely, thank heavens.

I apologized to a few neighbors about the noise on my patio into the wee hours of the New Year morning and all said they'd thought the noise was coming from another neighbor who is notorious for late night parties. I should have kept my mouth shut and let that neighbor take the blame. The up side is that my neighbors laughingly forgave me and still think I'm a nice person.

Tea Rooms

I wonder why women love to have lunch at tea rooms. It could be that very few men frequent a tea room and the ones that do look either whipped or gay. The noisiest table at a restaurant is always the one occupied by a group of women but put that same group of women in a tea room and they tone it down. They are influenced by the ladylike setting and attempt to prove they belong there.

6 of us ladies are having lunch at a tea room today and, having been there before, we know the food will be special...small but delicious portions of home made delicacies. The ladies who run this establishment must have attended a prestigious cooking school because none of us can pronounce the names of the entrees. No matter, we'll enjoy our meal immensely, then compliment the cook before we leave and she'll bask in the praise she justly deserves. That's what it's all about!

Never to Twist Again

My knee is slowly, very slowly mending and I've decided that my "twisting" days are over. Who ever would have thought that the day would come when I would have to censor a dance move? But when you become a senior you have to be practical about what parts of your body you abuse and the knee is like one of the gods you don't want to tamper with.

I spent all of yesterday terrified to place any weight on that darned knee because pain would shoot all over my body. It worried me that if it didn't start to heal soon I'd have to go back home to Canada and have it looked at by a doctor who would eat up my Florida time by sending me to one specialist and therapist after another.

Before bedtime last night I detected some improvemnt and this morning saw a marked improvement so I think I'll live to see the day I can toddle up to the pool. I'm going out today to buy one of those heat patches so I'm not confined to the end of a heating pad.

Getting older doesn't mean you have to give up everything you did when you were young but you do have to be sensible. I've got so many things I still want to do and enjoy and being sofa-bound with a sore knee doesn't fit into my plans.

Dancing Fool...The Morning After!

We had our annual New Year's Eve party at the clubhouse last night and I was a dancing fool. I think it began when the disc jockey played "That Old Time Rock and Roll". From there on in I forgot my age and danced like there was no tomorrow but, unfortunately, there was and is and my knee hurts like hell. I just may have to grow up a bit and act my age at the next party.

My roommate for the week, Carole, and I sauntered back to the trailer around 1:15 and sat outside in the still warm air to enjoy watching the stragglers head for home.

Mistake.

9 of the stragglers, including the disc jockey, decided it was continuing party time on my patio and stayed till after 3 A.M. We told jokes, drank (water for me by then) and made an unseemly amount of noise. I know I'm going to owe an apology to at least one neighbor.

All in all, it was such a wonderful way to start the new year, with friends and laughter. Now if only my knee would start to feel better!

I Wanna Work

Being an alien visitor to the United States doesn't bother me much until I hear about all the fun things that legal citizens of the country get to do that I can't. Quite a few people in my park here in Florida work part-time at Disney or one of the other theme parks...some as little as 3 weeks during the winter months. They receive only minimum wage but get terrific perks like free admission tickets, etc. A few of us aliens (Canadians) feel very left out since we're not allowed to work in the States.

An American friend is just finishing up his first week of employment and he told us that Universal Studios is desperate for part-time help. I decided to find out how hard it would be to acquire a visa which would allow me to work part-time. After checking on-line I decided that it would be a full-time job just taking all the steps required to obtain the damn visa. Universal is going to have to do without me until the United States government makes it a little easier for me to get a job. I don't want to take an executive position away from an American. All I want is a few hours a week to play (I mean work) at a theme park and then receive the perks.

No Sense of Direction

I have no sense of direction. Someone suggested I have a compass installed on my dash but it wouldn't help. Today I took my friend yard saleing and got just a little lost on an unknown road but had the good sense, being a woman, to stop at a gas station and ask for directions. I told the gentleman I was trying to reach Hwy 27 and he was kind enough to tell me I was heading right for it (surprise to me) but then he said "do you want to go north or south on Hwy 27?". Since I didn't know what road I was on at the moment, how could I know where it intersected Hwy 27?? I gave him a blank look and said I had no idea. He gave me that small, almost pitying smile that I seem to be seeing a lot lately. Slightly insulted, I thanked him for his help and drove away.

I'd buy a GPS if I didn't have to learn how to use it.

My Elvis Curtain

I'm having my basement remodeled and that includes my sewing room. Everything down there is going to be like brand new when it's done and I thought that my sewing room should have a little pizzazz so I've bought a beaded Elvis curtain for the closet door. It shows Elvis in black leather looking like he did when I was in my teens. What a glorious flashback!

My daughters have been rolling their eyes over my choice of decor but they have no idea what Elvis meant to the female poplulation in the late 50's and, acually, on up till the day he died in 1977.

I was 15 years old in 1955 and living in a rather stodgy world. Pat Boone was the new star and he was pretty boring. Then along came Elvis Presley. His crooked grin, blues/rock music, and suggestive moves appeared on the scene when most of us teenagers were dying for some excitement. I've loved him ever since.

When Elvis started doing Vegas and some movies he lost my attention just a bit but when he was aging and overweight he gained my love back because he had become vulnerable. It's sad to see a great star like Elvis not knowing when to rid himself of the flashy costumes and not-so-limber moves of his youth. But his voice improved every year and that grin was always the same.

One of Elvis' most endearing qualities was his politeness. From the day I first saw him on the Ed Sullivan show (pelvis blocked out), he remained polite, kind, and good humored in public. There was never any scandal associated with Elvis unless we take into account his addiction to prescription drugs. His downfall came from unethical doctors who overprescribed pain medication.

I'm proud of the fact that the largest Elvis festival is held each year in Collingwood, Ontario in Canada. We'll never forget you, Elvis.

Body Image

I received an e-mail recently that got me thinking about the way we perceive our own bodies. When we're very young we revel in our bodies...they carry us around, they feel soft, and they eliminate waste. Somewhere along the line our parents or society instill in us a feeling of embarrassment about our bodies.

When I was a teenager, before Women's Lib, I forgot to wear a bra one day and was horrified when I discovered my mistake. I was about 14 years old and had very little to put into a bra and what I had didn't move around at all but I had been conditioned to feel ashamed to be out in public without one. That was also the year I felt I should be wearing a girdle but, thank heavens, decided they were way too cumbersome and I was skinny.

Over the years, I went from being too skinny to too fat and felt that at one time I must have been perfect but never knew it. Women are the most critical of their bodies and see imperfections where there are none. Or, if there are, they're so minor that no-one else sees them.

I've watched my granddaughters, with perfectly unblemished skin, lather on makeup to cover it up. I've seen beauty pageant contestants with boob jobs. I've watched talk shows on T.V. which show horrific aftermaths of cosmetic surgery. The body we were born with is a miracle unto itself and yet we are never satisfied with it.

If all the "improvements" we made were for health reasons I could understand it but we women seem to be searching for a perfection that doesn't exist or even matter. It is pure and simple social conditioning that has gotten us to this point.

I read somewhere of a lady who was desperate to lose weight. She said she didn't want to be thin, she just wanted to be comfortable. Now, I can relate with that.

Hectic Retirement

I don't think that people still in the working world realize how hectic their lives can become when they're retired. I've been up since 4:45 A.M. and my day has been filled. Granted, it has been filled with fun and games but that still requires stamina.

I made a large pot of my noodle dinner and froze enough to feed me for 3 weeks when I'll have to cook again. Then I went over to the clubhouse for a game of chair volleyball...did a lot of stretching, chasing the ball, and laughing myself silly. Then I came home and finished an afghan I was making for a friend.

I watched T.V. for a short while and learned that the remote won't work when the sun is shining on the T.V. After an aborted attempt to have a nap (the phone rang), I gave up and got together 3 items to list on Ebay. With just enough time to shove a bowl of my noodle dinner down my throat, I headed back to the clubhouse to play Bingo. I won $34. It's been a tough day!

Death in the Family

My ex brother-in-law passed away on Xmas eve day. I've been getting e-mails and phone calls about his passing since then and we all seem to be trying to come to terms with losing someone who was a large part of our lives. My sister-in-law said that when she loses someone it's like a piece of her being torn away. Someone else said it brings the reality of our own mortality too close to home.

When someone I know dies, I feel as though the story of my life has been chipped away. Part of the story has ceased to exist in this world. I remember times we spent together, their laughter, their strength, and wonder how it can all come to a stop. There is more agony to the loss if it's a child or young person who had so little time here.

Those of us who believe in a hereafter are blessed with that comfort to carry us through the ordeal. And, as always, it's family and friends who will bond together to support each other and make sure we get through it.

Laundry

For some reason I like to do laundry. The house could be falling around my ears in dust and I'll ignore it and throw a load of clothes in the washer. Most mornings I'll toss in a load that doesn't even fill the washer. I love to analyze why I, or anyone else, does things but this has been a mystery to me since I acquired my first washing machine.

For many years we held an open house on Christmas eve. I'd spend all day cleaning and preparing for up to 50 guests and, just before the first one arrived, throw in a load of wash. I never even noticed this pattern until one Xmas eve my daughters giggled as I toted a pile of clothes to the basement at about 6:30. Ever since then I've wondered why I do this. Could it be a stress reliever?

Here in Florida I don't have my own washer and have to use the park laundromat. When I get here in October it takes a while for me to get over the urge to do laundry every day but having to pay $1.00 a load settles me down somewhat. Now I do laundry about twice a week when the hamper (a large one) is almost full. You can imagine how I'm feeling today with an overflowing hamper (Xmas interfered with my schedule) and drizzly rain keeping me from the laundromat.

I guess if I can't do my laundry I can write about it. Definitely a stress release!

Nude Posing

I'm not easily shocked anymore but I just found out that someone I know is earning a living by posing nude for an art class. I'm shocked.

A few questions come to mind...one thought up by a man with a dirtier mind than my own. When a man poses nude, what happens if it's cold and the drawing shows him to be less endowed than he is? What happens if he gets bored and starts thinking leud thoughts?

I've always wondered how long it takes for nudists to get used to seeing each other's bodies and become able to carry on a normal conversation. We are such a repressed society, even today's generation, and it almost seems impossible that we can train our brains to not have sexual thoughts when we see a member of the opposite sex naked.

I was on vacation in Antigua once and saw a vender on the beach surrounded by perhaps a dozen shoppers...all men except one woman who happened to be topless. The men weren't paying one bit of attention to the woman and I discovered later that they were European and used to seeing women topless on the beach.

Later I watched 2 Canadian men fall all over themselves in silent laughter and giddiness right after a beautiful young woman...topless...passed by them.

I guess it's a matter of mind conditioning that allows some of us to be so comfortable with our bodies that we see no shame or embarrassment in nudity. I'm too old to change so I'll be repressed for the rest of my natural life. But I don't want that for following generations. I want them to glory in the body they've been given to carry them around on this earth. I want them to feel free.

Xmas Day at the Senior Park

1. Up at 7 A.M. to shower and do hair.

2. Carole and Sheila came over and we went to the clubhouse to peel potatoes for
dinner. Clubhouse is filled with volunteers cooking, peeling, and talking.

3. Cleaned up the bags and candles from last night. Doris stopped by.

4. Phoned my sister and my girls. Reached one girl and a sister.

5. Carole came by again.

6. I made my devilled eggs for the Xmas dinner.

7. Carole came by once more.

8. Got dressed in something better than shorts and top.

9. Off to dinner at the clubhouse.

10. Clean up the clubhouse after dinner with merry volunteers.

11. Caravan of a few cars to tour the Disney hotels. Each hotel is decorated with
different themes for Xmas.

12. End of a day spent with many friends, with lots of laughter, and a terrific
Xmas dinner cooked by someone else.

One Xmas Eve Tradition

One Christmas morning when my children were aged 7 1/2, 6, and 2 1/2, I happened to notice in photographs that their pyjamas looked rather ratty. Thus began a tradition that lasted more than 30 years.

I would buy my daughters new pyjamas which I wrapped and placed under the tree. On Christmas eve they were allowed to open one present...the pyjamas...and this was all so they'd look nice for their Christmas morning photographs.

Over the years my daughters married and produced grandchildren for me. They all received nice new pyjamas to wear on Christmas eve, also. No more ratty looking kids for my Christmas morning pictures!

One year I noticed that buying pyjamas for my daughters and grandchildren was costing a heck of a lot of money so I quit cold turkey. These days I don't get to see them when they crawl out of bed on Christmas morning anyways...and I fear some of them don't even use pyjamas!!

Happy Xmas Eve

Before my husband and I retired to spend our winters in Florida our house was filled to the rafters with family and friends on Xmas eve. I worked part-time in Sears catalogue department at that time but during December worked almost full time hours. Between working at Sears, doing all of the Christmas shopping, preparing my house for up to 50 guests on Christmas Eve, plus serving Xmas dinner to 17 on Xmas day, December was always a hectic time for me.

One Xmas eve day stands out in my memory because it was the day I almost killed my husband. Dennis never helped with Xmas preparations but always chose to spend his day doing "man" things like relaxing in front of the T.V., playing his guitar, or (on this fateful day) putting together a huge model of a sailboat which spread all over my diningroom table.

I worked around him in a silent rage all day...occasionally reminding him that I needed to prepare the diningroom table for our company...it would serve as a buffet table. He ignored me and continued to fiddle with little pieces of balsa which would someday be the "Bluenose".

At 6 P.M. (company would arrive before 7 P.M.) my temper got the best of me and I told him in no uncertain terms to get his damn boat off my table. This quickly developed into a huge argument and, instead of hitting him over the head with a frying pan, I stormed out of the house and drove away. I hadn't reached the end of the street before I realized I couldn't just drive away when 50 people were going to be arriving at my house in less than an hour so back I went. I always wondered how many of our guests could sense the animosity I was feeling for my husband that night.

This Christmas eve, I will be going over to the clubhouse where we'll sing Christmas carols, watch a play put on by residents, and relax in the glow of friendship. Beats the hell out of slaving and fighting, doesn't it?

Rainy Xmas

We're going to have 4 days of rain which will cover Xmas eve and Xmas day. When it rains in Florida during the winter we snowbirds can't even complain out loud about the weather because someone is sure to say "well, we need it". I'm waiting to hear the complaint and the comment as we're being swept away Xmas day in a torrent of rain!

A friend is visiting till Jan. 7th so I'm shopping more than I'd like just to please her. Honest! Today we'll hit the flea market because it's under a roof and the rain shouldn't bother us. There's always something to do, rain or shine, and no-one to tell us we should stay home.

Bad Date

Before I start, don't worry my girls, the date wasn't mine!

My friend, who is 64 but looks 50, was asked out on a date by another senior who is kind of cute, rides a motorcycle, and seems to be an all around nice guy. They went off yesterday morning for a day at Cape Canaveral to see the space station and some of the other wonders of the Florida coast...shared costs.

At Bingo last night, in came my friend looking like I'd never seen her before...she was scowling. Apparently her date, who doesn't eat much, didn't consider that she might need lunch and dinner...all of which she planned to pay for herself. He reluctantly stopped for a quick lunch when she pressed him but at dinnertime said he needed to get home to watch "Jeopardy". They arrived back home just before 7 P.M. I don't think she'll go out with him again.

Today I'm going out with 3 other ladies (including the one mentioned) and we'll shop, laugh, eat, and have a hell of a good time. A man would probably hold us back!

Chair Volleyball

One of my friends here insisted on signing me up for chair volleyball. I was a little miffed because only old people would be involved in such a "sport", right? Well, this morning I was just putting away laundry when one of the ladies rushed in and told me a game was on and I was supposed to be there to play. Damn, I didn't want to go but duty called.

I walked into the clubhouse and saw a volleyball net (kind of low) with 6 people sitting in chairs on either side and batting a beach ball back and forth. I was honestly embarrassed for them...and then they made room for me! We played for about 1/2 hour and all of us had so much fun, laughing, and NEVER feeling foolish. A couple of little ones (visiting grandparents) joined us and they had as much fun as we did.

I'd never heard of this game before but now I can't wait to play it again. What a hoot!

Brag Blog

One of the most interesting things I do in Florida is to take an oil painting class, usually once a month. I began doing this about 3 years ago and my aim was to break the spirit of the instructor who claimed he could teach anyone to paint. I walked out of that class in shock and amazement with a painting that was close to beautiful. I still don't know how Tony, our instructor, could lead me through the steps to produce such a lovely painting.

Today we had 5 budding artists, one of whom was just like me and couldn't draw a straight line. Our goal was to paint an ocean scene with 1 or 2 palm trees (depending on how much nerve we had). I don't know if I could paint anything by myself but this experience has given me the confidence to try one day.

I'm thrilled with my painting because it will always remind me of the time I've spent in Florida. And the new artist? Well, she walked out with that same look of pride on her face...pleased beyond words with her accomplishment.

P.S. I tried adding a picture of my painting but it wouldn't go in. Either blog.com is faulty or I'm doing something wrong. My guess is it's me.