60 is the new 40...right?

You know you're getting old when you start referring to your time on earth in decades rather than years.

In hindsight, my 30th birthday was not the time of mourning everyone had made it out to be. I came of age at a time when none of my peers trusted anyone over 30.

But having just separated from my first husband, I viewed turning 30 as a beginning rather than an end. I had two beautiful children I absolutely adored and was full of high hopes. I stepped out of the stay-at-home-mommy box and quickly found a job I liked that almost paid my bills.

I began living life as a single mother and learned to deal with the ramifications of a divorce, especially as it affected my children though it was not easy and I would never wish it on anybody. But this was the choice I made and I was determined to make the best of it.

When my 40's rolled around, I found myself happily remarried with a lovely home and another beautiful daughter. I was sure life couldn't get any better. 

I stepped back into the stay-at-home-mommy box but loved every minute of it. I took up golf, learned how to email, became a serial volunteer and was able to oversee a few remodeling projects on our home.

As the kids grew, so did I.

And I'll never understand why all those 50th birthday decorations are black because I certainly didn't see a funeral in my future. 50 was great! I loved my 50's! The last decade has been perhaps the best of my life! 

It was during my 50's that we celebrated graduations from high school, college and grad school. My son enlisted in the US Navy, married, left for two wartime deployments, was honorably discharged, returned home but later divorced. I was not unfamiliar with the challenges of a "too young" marriage and though sad, was not surprised.

Two of them left Colorado for several years but returned, and family celebrations became whole again.

Jim and I were happy and began to plan for and talk of his future retirement. We played golf together and with our many friends and my handicap dropped significantly. I even beat him on occasion!

He bought me my first digital camera as an anniversary gift and with more time on my hands, I embraced this new technology. I gave away or donated all my old film cameras. There was a learning curve but I finally got it! 

In a brief moment of insanity I thought of doing this professionally but almost immediately realized that I detested those pesky business details and preferred to use what little talent I had as a gift to others. 

Jim, who had illusions of my bringing in a second income, was less than thrilled but as usual (God love him) accepted the reality that I was not going to become the next Annie Leibovitz!

My favorite project to date? 

Photographing high school seniors in The I Have A Dream Foundation of Boulder County program and providing them with senior portraits and a picture CD for their high school yearbook. 

For the kids who were not even sure where they'd find the money to pay for their cap and gown, the gift of beautiful senior portraits was more than they'd ever hoped for. Talk about feeling appreciated! Wow!

I'd found my niche and realized this is what I was meant to do with my photography.

Yup! Loved my 50's! Best decade ever! Life is good!

But as my 60th loomed, I realized it wasn't going to be as easy as those previous milestone birthdays that had a zero in it.

I wouldn't say I was depressed, but there was an inexplicable feeling of dread at the thought of turning 60 and it rather surprised me.

I had survived the sixties and was now turning 60. Holy crap!

I cannot say what the next decade has in store for me but no sooner had I started to type this entry, I received an email from a friend in Colorado who lost two sisters, one 66 and the other 62, within two days. Upon learning of the death of her older sister, the younger of the two had a massive heart attack and died. One funeral took place today and the other is scheduled for Tuesday.
I just called and my heart is breaking for them.
60?
No problem!
I think I'm just happy to be here!

Do not regret growing older.  It is a privilege denied to many.  
~Author Unknown

You Never Get A Second Chance to Make a First Impression

I've been telling my now adult children for years: "You never get a second chance to make a first impression".
It's one of many life lessons I may or may not have remembered to teach them but they've certainly heard this at least a hundred times.
While I firmly believe in second, sometimes even third chances, it's that first impression thing I felt so strongly about and wanted to drill into them.
It can make or break a relationship, a future and a memory.

And it's a quote I just repeated to a sweet-voiced receptionist at a Jupiter, Florida veterinary office that also provides grooming services, who called to offer me a FREE GROOM for my 5 month old pup Boomer.
She explained that she wasn't in on Wednesday so didn't know the reason behind the doctor's request that she call me with the offer (yeah, right) which I promptly refused.
"Not interested", I said. "Would you like to know why?"
"Yes, actually", she replied.
I'd scheduled an appointment the week before for Boomer to be groomed and both dogs needed their Leptospirosis vaccinations. Abby had also started shaking her head excessively and was scratching at her ear so I wanted the vet to examine her.
Admittedly, I didn't do a ton of research on the office but they had a decent looking website and the dozen or so reviews I was able to find were all rave.
I had already made the conscious decision not to use the vet my Florida family has been using for a variety of reasons that I won't go into here.
I arrived promptly at 9:00 am with both dogs, checked in and then sat there for about 30 minutes as several other customers arrived. Two dogs that arrived were there to see the vet, the others were all there for grooming.
I soon learned that the practice had just been sold and the vet and many of the staff were new. It was chaotic and the receptionist appeared to have no idea what was going on.
The five dogs scheduled for grooming services who arrived after us, were greeted by the groomer who spoke with their owners and then escorted the dogs to the back. Four were scheduled for baths and one for a bath and full groom.
Boomer, Abby and I continued to sit there, feeling invisible.
Finally, the groomer returned, gushed about how adorable Boomer was, asked what I wanted done for him (bath, brush, nails and minor trim around his face, ears and paws), told me to return at 3:00 and as she carried him to the back promised to call if he was done earlier.
I was then escorted to the exam room where Abby was checked out by the vet, diagnosed with a yeast infection in her ears, given ear wash and drops we were to use for two weeks and given her Lepto shot. He was nice enough and seemed to be thorough. I paid Abby's bill and we left.
I busied myself for the rest of the day before returning to the office at 3:00 to pick up Boomer.
I'd been nervous leaving him so long. He's so young and it was only his second visit to a groomer, the first being to the wonderful shop in Boulder I've been taking our dogs to for the last 12 years or so.
But I've never had to leave a dog for more than 4 hours. I thought 6 was excessive, especially for a pup.
The woman at the reception desk that morning was not at the desk when I returned but the friendly vet tech who assisted with Abby earlier, was. She winced when she informed me that Boomer was not ready yet.
When I asked how much longer it would be she said, "Let me check" and called to the back.
When she got off the phone, she asked if I could come back in two hours, at 5:00.
"No,"  I said. "I've got to be somewhere at 5:00."
Then I asked if he'd at least been bathed, thinking I could just take him as is and not worry about the nails and trim.
"No," she said, and my jaw dropped.
My face must have reddened and I know my decibel level increased as I asked, "Do you mean to tell me my 5 month old puppy has been sitting in a cage for the last 6 hours and she hasn't even started on him?"
She couldn't even look me in the eye.
Soon the groomer came out and after mumbling one feeble excuse after another that I clearly was not interested in, lowered her head and disappeared. She never even offered an apology although the sweet vet tech did - several times - but I assured her I knew it was not her fault.
The vet walked by, smiled and uttered something about it being a "hectic day," "two emergencies," blah, blah, blah. Whatever!
I wondered what that had to do with the groomer leaving my pup in a cage all day while she attended to the 5 adult dogs that arrived after we did.
I wasn't amused and I certainly wasn't buying their crap so I asked that they "please bring me my dog so I can get out of here."
I then asked if Boomer had even had his Lepto shot since he'd been sitting around in a cage all day.
"No, but we'll take care of that right now" was the reply.
They did. I paid for the shot. I left.
Any bets on whether I'll be going back?

Ted Williams? Wasn't He a Famous Baseball Player?

The only positive thing to come out of Tucson this week is that the news bumped Ted Williams out of the headlines.
To review: Some newspaper reporter in Ohio posts a video clip on You Tube showing Williams begging on the side of the road. He's holding his cardboard sign claiming to have a "God given talent" with his voice and is looking for a second chance. He claims to be a down-on-his-luck former radio voice then proves it. He says he's been clean and sober for two years, clip hits You Tube and the rest is history.
Plucked from the obscurity of his homeless life on the streets, he becomes the celeb du jour.
But his 15 minutes was wearing thin as the media made fools of themselves stumbling over each other to get their interviews.
He got more air time last week than the President.
One reporter found Williams' 90 year old mother who says she hadn't seen him in 20 years, whisked her away to where they thought he'd be and with cameras rolling waited for the "exclusive" on the mother and son reunion.
Ooops! Yet another news crew spirited Williams out the side door and Mom and reporter were left standing, making nervous small talk, waiting. I was surprised they even aired the footage because it made to reporter look like an idiot. I liked the Mom though. I think Williams got his great voice from her.
It was reported the Cleveland Cavaliers offered Williams an announcer's job.
His AA sponsor and friend stepped in and was reportedly fielding all offers.
He conducted dozens of interviews, hit every morning news program, afternoon talk show and recorded a commercial for Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.
Yes, recent history proves there are great rewards for behaving badly.
"I'll make you a star!"
And this all occurred within maybe 48 hours of the video going viral.

Then things started to unravel...

The Smoking Gun published most of his mug shots taken in the last 20 years as Williams visited a variety of jails.
It turns out he is a convicted felon - something I'm sure The Cavs front office wishes they knew before they got all excited and offered him that job.
He claimed his life of crime was only to support his drug habit.
His ex-wife was interviewed. She not only raised her own children without financial support from Williams, she took in and raised a child he fathered with another woman, also a drug addict.
Williams was flown out to LA for yet more interviews and a reunion with some of his 7 children. The cops were called to his hotel during a domestic disturbance between Williams and one of his daughters who was upset because he polished off a bottle of vodka.
Dr. Phil, whose aversion to face time rivals only that of Gloria Allred, brings Williams on his show where he finally admits that indeed, he hasn't exactly been as clean and sober the last two years as we were led to believe. I kept waiting for Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton to insert themselves into this.
Ugh! Here we go again.
Now, it appears, he's headed to rehab.
Good idea.
No one knows how Ted Williams' story will end but the likely scenario is:
He leaves rehab after 30 days because he thinks he's cured and fame and fortune are waiting. (Is that really enough time after a lifetime of drug and alcohol abuse?)
He once again becomes the media darling, makes a ton of money only to be sued by his ex-wife and 7 children for 20 years of back child support.
The pressure causes him to fall off the wagon and the cycle repeats itself...
Stay tuned.

Jan. 14, 2011 Update:
It's been reported Williams will be in rehab for 90 days, not 30. Even better idea.

And there is good news from Tucson in that Rep. Giffords is moving fingers, toes, arms, legs and has even been moved to a sitting position on her bed.
She's opened her eyes and her breathing tube may be removed today.
I'm praying for a miracle here.

Road Trip

This marks my second drive from Boulder, CO to North Palm Beach, FL however it's the first (and perhaps last?) with Jim.
Some people are just not meant to sit in a car for three days. I happen to be married to one.
Though he'd never admit it, I know he hated those three days on the road. He considers it a waste of time, feels so very unproductive and I do understand.
And even though we were entertained by audio books (David Sidaris' Holidays On Ice, and John Grisham's The Confession) he's simply not accustomed to sitting idle for more than twenty minutes, much less three days. He squirms. He fidgets. He changes lanes for no reason other than to relieve his boredom. He adjusts every button, setting and knob that's within his reach from the front passenger seat. You name it, he'll fumble with it. The man simply cannot sit still. He's quietly praying I'll find someone else to accompany me on the return trip in the spring. Fortunately, there's plenty of time to figure this out.

The dogs, as expected, were fantastic! Jim dubbed them The Road Warriors. For the most part, they passed the time sleeping in the back seat, which was made as comfortable as possible for them with bedding, blankets and chew toys.

Boomer, not yet 5 months old, happily went along with absolutely everything and seemed to consider it all a terrific adventure. He loved his new found back seat freedom, having only traveled in his pet carrier in the past. We were worried he might get car sick but he did not. Whew!
As far as we know, Abby's only road trip experience was the transport from an animal shelter in Cowley County, Kansas where she sat unclaimed for over 30 days, to the Boulder County Humane Society where we rescued her two years ago. She was a trooper and clearly just happy to be with her people.
Our first stop was for gas in some Godforsaken town on the plains of eastern Colorado.
The dogs were excited to have a potty break and quickly relieved themselves in a dry, wintery brown grassy area adjacent to the gas station. Almost immediately, Boomer started hopping around like he was walking on a hot stove and Abby soon exhibited the same behavior. Upon checking, we discovered them both covered with prickly burrs and as the prairie winds howled, spent the next half hour carefully picking the burrs out of their paws and fur. Lesson learned!
Poor Boomer didn't want to go near grass for the remainder of our trip so one of us always scouted out the potty area to insure his safety. It took more than a little coaxing after his burr experience.

Our road trip routine is to have a healthy breakfast and then stop for a shake or a root beer float during the afternoon. It was more than enough to tide us over until dinner and of course it had absolutely no fat or calories! Ha!
Our first night was spent in Blue Springs, MO, "Home of American Idol's David Cook" (I've never seen the show) in a Hampton Inn that accepted dogs and offered a buffet breakfast in the morning. We were well east of Kansas City so as to avoid the morning rush hour.
Our second day was the longest as we wanted to get south of Atlanta for the same reason. We tried again for a Hampton Inn but the one we stopped at didn't accept dogs and the desk clerk didn't think any others in the area did either.
She recommended the nearby Drury Inn and since it was almost 10:30 pm and we were tired, we hustled over there and grabbed a room. There were so many people traveling with dogs we thought the Westminster Dog Show might be in town and they were all staying in the same hotel!
This place was more than sketchy and a dank odor that had nothing to do with pets wafted throughout the building.
The elevator was scary-noisy and I wondered if it had been inspected in the last three decades. Even the dogs freaked out.
The room was something right out of the late sixties-early seventies with tacky carpet, gaudy drapes and unmatched bedding with stains and holes. We quickly stripped the beds for the now routine bed bug inspection, closely examined the remainder of the room and deemed it safe despite the musty odor. The sheets were clean and the mattresses appeared new, but we had to wonder why the hotel would replace the mattresses and not the crappy bedding covering them. Jim's thought was it's a "designated pet room" and that's what one gets.
My thought was, "My dogs are neat, clean and they deserve better."
We slept about 6 hours and then hit the road again, arriving in North Palm in time for Happy Hour, now Yappy Hour!

Some observations from the road:
-Dogs make great traveling companions. They never complain, don't fight over the License Plate Game and not once did we hear, "When are we going to get there?"
-Most McDonald's rest rooms were a disaster but those at the rest stops were all clean and smelled as though they had been disinfected just prior to our arrival.
-Fast food is just fine when you're on the road. It's fast. It's food. And since we don't indulge any other time, it won't kill us. Besides, it tastes good!
-Long haul truckers using cell phones are just as distracted as anyone else. It's far scarier when a semi drifts into your lane than a Kia.
-Cops are everywhere. No, we did not get a ticket.
-Georgia, and especially Florida, are littered with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of monstrous roadside billboards, most of which have been rented by the religious right and the anti-abortion movement. Gone are the days of the roadside Burma Shave ads. Make no mistake, this is the Bible Belt.
-The further south you travel, the warmer it gets.
-There's nothing as welcoming as the warm embrace of a loved one after three long days on the road.
Oh! And the nice glass of Pinot Noir didn't hurt either.
Looking forward to my winter in Florida!

Letting Off Steam

Someone who betrays your trust, commits treason or throws you under the bus is a traitor, not a trader.
When one sobs uncontrollably they are bawling, not balling.
Every word that ends with an 's' does not have an apostrophe!
Would you please learn the difference between they're, their and there?
And while you're at it, learn the difference between then and than, woman and women, who's and whose, affect and effect, or two, to and too.

Oh! And the word is housebroken, not housebroke.
Him and I went to Wal-Mart.  Wrong!

He and I went to Barnes & Noble. Correct!

And I don't claim to be an English professor but who the hell ever came up with "prolly?"
The word is "probably."
I detest this computer chat and texting shorthand crap!

I've got to tell you, some days I sit here and want to scream out loud.
Wait! I do scream out loud!
I'm not referring to the writings of the third graders my daughter is teaching.
These grammatical, spelling and punctuation errors are made by people who are either in college, have graduated already or claim to have a master's degree!

Shall I begin the mourning process now?
Is the English language dead or just on life support?
Since death is inevitable, I'm hoping to be reincarnated and come back in 25 years or so.
Will I need an interpreter to read, write and speak?

"Where's the party at?"
Never mind!
You're not invited!
You sound like a rube!

There!
I feel better now.

Sure! Take A Look At My Junk!

I haven't flown since July, but have been giving my next trip considerable thought in the wake of the new Body Scans we are now being subjected to.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEJC-FuOSZ4
(Sorry. You'll have to copy and paste to view this. Can't get the link option to work.)

Having just had my annual mammogram and my first ever bone density scan, I figure I've endured enough radiation this month so I'm grateful I don't have to fly in the immediate future.
But my husband flies often for business and one of my daughters will be boarding a plane in a couple of weeks.
I do hope they'll give some consideration to which security procedure they'll find least objectionable.
The Body Scan, a virtual strip search, or the new enhanced "pat down," which guarantees some random TSA agent a quick feel of a passenger's breasts, groin and butt crack.

Airline pilots have been advised to "opt out" of the scanners due to the unknown long term effects of this "perfectly safe" radiation - prudent when one considers the exposure pilots, and flight attendants for that matter, must endure just to go to work.
But what's the average traveler to do?
Of course we want to feel safe and secure boarding our next flight but are these enhanced security screenings worth it?
It's one thing to spread your legs in the privacy of the doctor's office but an altogether different experience in the crowded security area of a bustling airport.

And what about the disabled, elderly or small children?
Haven't we all taught our young children to never allow a stranger to touch them, especially their "private parts?"
How do parents now handle this dilemma?
Blast them with radiation or let some stranger touch them where we've always said they should not?
And I know of more than one eighty-something who would rather drive 3000 miles than submit themselves to a scan or a pat down. Is this what we want? Thousands of Octogenarians driving cross country to the granddaughter's wedding?
Wanna bet all this enhanced security will be nothing more than a dare for some to see if they can beat the system?
We'll be hearing lots more about it.
But as for me...
I'm a nearly 60 year old post menopausal mother of three. The excess stuff I'm packing is not explosive, I swear!
One tends to lose all sense of modesty after giving birth in a crowded room with cameras.
In my younger days I'd hop naked into a hot tub and I've mooned fellow rafters on a river trip.
I even went skinny dipping recently, although it was dark and at our age we now call it "Chunky Dunking."
You want to scan this broken down old body TSA?
Sure. Go ahead. Take a look.
Just don't be touching my junk!

Rescue Dog or Not?

Crate. Check!
Dog bed. Check!
Puppy food. Check!
Dog toys. Check!
We were as ready as we'd ever be for the arrival of our newest family member, a Shih Tzu pup we'd already named Boomer!
We fell in love, CORRECTION: I fell in love, with his picture in an email sent by my friend Pam's sister Angela in Indiana. She owned the mother and as luck would have it, had a litter of three just waiting for my choosing following the death of our beloved Baxter.
My first thought was, "No...I have to rescue a dog from the Humane Society."
It's where my heart had always been and we'd had such great luck over the years bringing home wonderful dogs who desperately needed a family to take them in and love them forever.
With one exception, every dog I've ever had the pleasure of owning came from a shelter or a home where they weren't cared for or not wanted. "Of course," I said. "It's the right thing to do."
But a little voice in my head kept reminding me that I'd spent the better part of the last 10 years caring for dogs with health issues ranging from thyroid conditions and mange, to diabetes and most recently, cancer.
We'd been fortunate we could afford the cost of vet bills and medications, including insulin and chemo drugs for the diabetes and cancer.

But something told me I deserved a break and should go for this pup that offered a known medical background and better chance for a long life and good health. So although I realized there are never any guarantees, I picked out the pup who consistently looked into the camera lens for Angela's slightly out of focus but very tempting pictures and said, "That's the one!"
My next project was to figure out a way to get him from Bluffton, Indiana (a two hour drive from Indianapolis) to Boulder, Colorado.
Although Angela had shipped pups all over the world, no dog of mine was going to be traumatized by a trip in the cargo hold of a plane! I'd heard nightmare stories and knew I couldn't handle it emotionally if anything were to happen to our new pup.
I considered meeting Angela and Boomer in Indianapolis and returning home the same day but then asked Pam if any of her family were considering a visit to Boulder (it's so lovely in the Fall!) in the immediate future because if they were, I'd offer to pay half the airfare in exchange for them bringing our new pup on the plane with them. Boomer's ticket, which allowed him to ride in his snazzy carrier under the seat in front, cost as much as any other one way human passenger sitting in a seat, but hell, we had to get him here somehow!
So on Tuesday October 19, Pam's 80 year old mother Jane, nervously boarded a non-stop from Indianapolis and escorted our little Boomer home. (A huge thank you to Jane, Pam and Angela for all their help making this happen!)
Despite her worst fears, our little pup never made a peep, nor did he have an accident in his carrier. 
For that, he politely waited until he walked in the door of our home where he was greeted by a small gathering of family and friends.
Okay, so he held it all day. What's the poor little guy to do?
Jim tracked the flight from Indianapolis and provided us with regular text message updates:
*Boomer has boarded!
*Boomer is traveling at 441 mph at an altitude of 34,000 feet!
*Boomer has entered Colorado airspace!
*Boomer's ETA at DIA is now 5:03 pm.
*Boomer has landed!
His humor was appreciated and made us laugh as we anxiously awaited Boomer's arrival.

So, it's been almost three weeks now and Boomer has settled in nicely.
He's figured out our routine, has bonded with our other dog Abby (adopted from the Humane Society 2 1/2 years ago following the death of Buddy) and is doing extremely well with housebreaking.
He's smart, he's feisty, he's cuddly, he makes us laugh every day and appears to love his new home and family. And he should! He's graduated to sleeping in our bed at night!
After Baxter died, we really needed something to mend our broken hearts and Boomer, as we now know, was the answer.
So in the end, I guess we really did get a rescue dog... but it's Boomer who's rescued us!