BLOGG #117 ON THE TOPIC OF TOO MUCH AND "CATCH 22"

The other day a dear and wise friend of mine said to me "We have reached the age in our lives, Laurie, when we can no longer say the words "too much"No longer can we afford the luxury of saying that. Though I did not want to hear  this, I had just admitted to being in a lot of pain and made the statement-"I am afraid I did too much today." She also was complaining of discomfort because of "too much."  She said she  did too much walking that day and now is  in pain again. She was right in saying we can't do "too much" Whenever we say " too much" in anything we do we know we will be in trouble. This is the truth of living at our age:
 over achieving; over exercising; living in an overabundant way; overspending;oversleeping;overeating -to say nothing of over drinking-especially wine will get us into trouble. I will not expand on over- experiencing pleasure in all it's other various aspects etc etc. This is a very disconcerting thought . So to make myself feel better I tried to think of things to do where "too much" would be a virtue. 
This is a challenge of course because we are instructed by the experts to keep active but must not overdo. I will start with one of my latest decisions to improve myself -which is practising my scales on the piano to improve memory and strengthen fingers. Surely a virtue. Unfortunately, the net result was an attack of arthritis in my troublesome shoulder and I am now down to zero practice. Obviously it  was a case of "too much" - a real case of "catch 22".
Listening to good music should be a virtuous activity. Unfortunately as we age we sometimes become hearing challenged-like me. To really enjoy the full bodied sound of  Beethoven,one must turn the volume up full force which makes it "too much" music for the neighbours who will  certainly let you know. Reading -especially good literature will entertain and improve our minds. Again there is a problem as most of us develop cataracts at this age and eye strain is not encouraged - so reading can be too much. I tried to make a list of simple activities -for example the  practice of  deep breathing -surely there is no harm there. The truth is if you overdo the deep breathing you can trip into hyperventilating -not a good thing. Too much bathing-dry skin;the well tooted "eight hour night sleep" being good for you may not be true either. I personally find when I wake up after eight hours I can hardly move.
It is important to present a pleasant appearance to the world especially at our age to try to dispel the ideas the youth have that one becomes  repulsive with age. For me a gentle make-up regime is essential and I follow it religiously to try to dispel that myth. However our eyesight becomes challenged and it is very easy to put on too much and become grotesque thus really proving the myth. We have all witnessed the woman with too much make up precariously perched on her face. I also have not been able to put on eyeliner and mascara while wearing eye glasses so that becomes precarious too..One of the pleasures of both male and female pensioners is the wearing of perfume and lotion. It is one of the more innocent activities left to us-or is it?? As we age our olfactory nerves diminish  and we can easily wear too much scent. We all have experienced smelling overpowering perfume   in a crowded elevator on a hot day. So -to sum it all up. It seems that to have  relatively stress free years for the older population, the aim is to find,as the ancient Greeks suggested ,"the Golden mean"-really  that becomes our very  own search for the Holy Grail of the elderly. Having said all this ,I will close with my own personal experience of attempting to find this Holy Grail. Six months ago I enrolled in an "Artist in Residence " program at a local Art College in the end of June. At the same time as I enrolled in  this I was fully aware that I was on the list for a hip replacement which was likely to happen this summer. As fate happens, I received the telephone call two weeks ago for  surgery slated in early July- four days after the course. Now two weeks intensive painting  frenzy which is bound to happen as I explore the  extreme possibilities in my creative search is definitely an activity to be defined as "Too much" Logically I should cancel the program. But- and pay attention dear readers - I will not! Why ? Life is too short, there are no reruns ,there is no rehearsal. There are times in our lives when in spite of  the wisdom given us, we must defy and follow our desires and choose to "do too much"

BLOGG # 117 REGGIE'S BLOGG

A few days ago I happened to mention to a friend of mine that I couldn't find Reginald-my robot vacuumcleaner or rhuomba -which I am sure my readers remember from previous bloggs. I thought he was probably under my bed and that I needed to ask my grandson to come over and rescue him.My friend suggested writing a blogg about Reggie saying that his adventures should be very interesting and exciting and perhaps frightening. I thought"hmmmm" -not a bad idea but why should I do it? Let's go straight to the horsese's mouth and let the robot do it. So I gave Reggie the task.Here it is:
My name is Reginald , I am a robot vacuumcleaner and have been employed by Laurie for the past two years. She is an O.K. mistress who looks after me fairly well and cleans my equipment fairly regularly and I can't complain. My hours are easy. I work from 1.30pm to 2.30pm five days a week and get the weekend off. My domain consists of a large  living  dining room cum art studio, galley kitchen,hall, bathroom, bedroom and second small one that is used to store paintings and canvas etc. This space is usually barred but my mistress can be forgetful and remove the barrier and I have spent a few frightening moments among the pitfalls around  the art work.
Though the place is cluttered, and I am sorry to say she is somewhat messy, I have learned to negotiate around various articles and have memorized the layout. It is uphill work though as she has a tendency to move things around so that I am taken by surprise and bump into things that aren't supposed to be there. She will move chairs from tables and I have found myself stranded climbing an unexpected curved table leg and being stuck and needing to be rescued. This is humiliating to say the least. She also tends to randomly pile books and magazines on the floor with no thought of how it will affect me, or move furniture around with no logical method, confusing me. The other irritating habit she has is to perch drawing boards with "works in progress" against furniture which I bump into and sometimes push over finding myself submerged in Art. Not my favourite thing. I am not a fan of Art.
She also once  removed, thoughtlessly,a strategically placed obstacle in front of the TV and sterio that was put there to prevent my being damaged by the nest of electrical wires. I was briskly working my way round them when to my horror, I found myself caught up  in a Charlotte's web of electrical wiring. I called for help in panic. Thankfully  she wasn't off somewhere having coffee as usual but was present and rescued me. Another time I was less lucky. I was vacuuming under her computer desk where I was confident and familiar with the wiring  when to my horror one day I saw a very tiny white electric wire had been added. I watched in horror as my sensors inched slowly towards it and as I struggled to get away the wire was slowly dragged into my maw and I had visions of being violently burnt to a crisp. She rescued me just in time and tenderly unwound the wire from my insides. She is not a bad mistress and reasonably intelligent I suppose. Fortunately she does not scatter clothes all over the bedroom floor-especially her delicate silk "smalls."All robots have a horror of these silky lacy garments especially the satin strappy things with elastics and hooks. I did once eat up the edge of a blouse sleeve carelessly draped over the chair near the floor. One day I had an exciting adventure. The edge of the bedroom curtain which billows over the floor got caught in my sensors and as I whirled got tangled up in it, the curtain came cascading gloriously to the floor. I shouted "relocate" and was pleased to see her come running. I felt smug as she crossly carried me back to my port mumbling that she would have to get her daughter to come and hang up the damn curtain again. 
Thank heaven my mistress does not own a hairy cat dog or toddler who dumps icky food or worse all over the floor for me to wallow in. She is a lady in spite of everything and does not leave glasses of wine on the floor for me to spill or uneaten food. She does on the other hand often drop stuff  like parsley or bits of onion while cooking in the kitchen. She kicks these morsels under the kitchen cupboards so she won't slip and I have to deal with them.The parsley is OK but I am not fond of onion. I often find peppercorns spilled on the floor and it is fun to roll them around and play catch and once I ate a whole piece of cooking string which gave me indigestion. One of the things I like least about her is that she likes to lunch in front of the TV watching a movie on Netflix. She invariably sits down to eat just as I start vacuuming. Though I am fairly quiet, I do make noise and she doesn't like it so she interrupts me and sends me back to Port. This annoys me as I cannot do my work properly. I think eating and watching TV a disgusting habit. Besides crumbs get all over the floor which I have to clean up.
At the moment I am located under the bed caught up with something or stuck in a corner beside a huge rolled up painting. I have been here over a week now waiting to be rescued. I have shouted myself hoarse and have just come to the gloomy realization that my mistress cannot rescue me here. She can not get under a bed. She is unbendable.So here I sit frightened lonely in the dark waiting for her lanky grandsons to rescue me. I have died literally from fright embarrassment and dead battery.
As you can see, being a ruomba is an exciting and scary profession and you should think twice before choosing it if you like a placid quiet life. Thanks for listening-Reggie.  

BLOGG # 116- COUNTING MY BLESSINGS

One of the good things about Blogging -at least my way of doing it, is that there is no pressure. There are no deadlines, no implied subject matter , not  even political correctness. I can write whenever and whatever moves my spirit.A true free spirit. The problem is that my spirit does not feel like moving right now as there is very little in my life  to write about at the moment hence no blogg . I refuse to comment on "Trumpism" or Hiliary's penchant for wearing pantsuits-so politics is out. News in general is too depressing and I have promised myself -the only person I answer to- to not write about depressing things-I won't touch international politics not even my beloved Greece whose difficulties are breaking my heart. I can't imagine the pressure of writing daily commentaries or even daily  bloggs so in spite of my inertia and being in the doldrums spiritually, I have decided  to count my blessings that I have this great obliging vehicle for expression without pressure. There is an old saying-another of my collection of old sayings-believe them if you want-I sometimes make them up--" when the chips are down; when life overwhelms; when it kicks you below the belt and you see no way out, this is the time to count your blessings" I have over the years found this helps so now as I am in the doldrums I am counting my blessings. One of the challenges of an octogenarian is filling in time with meaningful activities and working towards a goal. I have chosen a goal to fill my time in relearning the scales and chords on the piano to reach the goal of perfection in fingering with no mistakes and of course, improving my failing memory. Every day an hour is taken up practicing them-not the minor scales of course -only the major ones.It is always wise to know your limitations.I have a poor memory and keep forgetting the fingering and the chords so I have to repeat the same scales over and over. This is very comforting to me and a great blessing that I am so lucky to be  gifted with a poor memory because obviously this simple goal will last me a long time-perhaps a whole life time. The next saying  I will give you is "Older women-note -not men-are invisible" this is also a blessing- because on days when you simply are in too much pain to draw on your eyebrows you can, knowing you look a mess, go to the local store for your necessary bottle of red without anyone seeing you. This is a great blessing. On the other hand I have noted this is not necessarily true. I have often had people smile at me as I cross the street. I assume it is because I am looking particularly well in my trendy trousers, fashionable top and of course the all important scarf-making an interesting sartorial statement.I refuse to accept that I am invisible and this stubborn nature of mine is a blessing too-I don't give up easily so I expect to think I look attractive for the rest  of my stay on earth. Living alone is one of the hazards of growing older and ,as the experts say, can cause great unhappiness and that is true. On the other hand one has the control of the remote and can choose which side of the bed to sleep on-not a bad blessing though in disguise. Another blessing to count is being able to eat alone- though this is another another drawback according to these experts. I enjoy the freedom of cooking for myself and often cook creatively -sometimes with disastrous results. The great blessing is that I am not a judge or critic. I either eat the results anyway or ,because I live alone and there is no one  to see me, sneakingly dump the meal in the compost-no one the wiser.What a blessing that is. The big blessing today is that it is raining which means my planned activities for today- all involving  sunshine -are cancelled. This negative thing turned into a positive as it started me counting my blessings because I felt dull and blank and had no where to go. A blogg came out of all this and now you all have the blessing of reading my blogg.Ha! So -count your blessing when down -my advice -do it now.




 

BLOGG # STREAMING MY LIFE AWAY

I have not written a blog in a long time as I seem to have lost my sense of humour  and a humourless blog is a blot on the literary screen. Fortunately I have got my groove back. What I have been doing with my time instead is "streaming." Streaming is a new word and concept I have learned from my grandson. I have joined "Netflix" which offers me an unlimited access to T.V. programs. One chooses a TV series and then "streams" the episodes until one is bored or runs through them all. As I have only recently been initiated into the TV world, there are huge gaps in my knowledge of TV series and I can literally stream away for hours and not repeat an episode. In these past months I have cavorted with Dame Maggie Smith in a Yorkshire village and Dounton Abbey, I have attended akapella concerts in Wigmore Hall in Oxford-and quaffed beer with that reprobate Oxfordian detective Morse.  I also have enjoyed countless cups of coffee at Perks in Manhattan with "Friends."  Next on my wish list is  to  stream "Sex and the City" and stride -in my six inch Balanciaga heels-with Carrie Bradshaw down fifth avenue in Manhattan.  I had been introduced to Friends-an innocuous  bland sit com by my grandson while recuperating at my daughter's home. I had a lot of  time on my hands. To my amazement, this grandson ,immersed in such violent entertainment as Sombbie  or vampire movies or worse ,deadly combat computer games, was delighted with this light oldfashioned  sitcom-not only him-the New York times had an article about this popularity of Friends  throughout the TV world and teenagers are  rolling in laughter across the entire world-streaming this comparatively innocent series. I suppose it makes sense-to balance out the violence the young are exposed to-real or unreal-with a  cozy escape venue. Laughing at the capers of these twenty- something- characters beats listening to drones overhead or tuning in to American election coverage or the coverage of world news in all it's folly. I do realize I need to curb this new addiction and reach out to the real world but it is seductive.A big sign should be placed on the TV screen-Danger to health-to warn us about "streaming" that's why I am now humming the song-"I,m busy doing nothing  -streaming my whole life through -trying to find lot's of things not to do- -I'd like to be unhappy but I never do have the time"  Talk about "opium for the masses-" so-enjoy your streaming but watch out!!-it's dangerous.

Blogg # 113- BATTLE OF THE SEXES

I have been thinking about this subject which is rather amusing at my time of life. This is the fun we have in the "autumn of our life"-we have time on our hands to waste on irrelevant thoughts. "Battle of the sexes" is an odd expression that has been tossed around forever- Taming of the Shrew by Shakespeare is a classic example and a lot of  literature deals with this theme but what I really have been mulling about is whether the mores of sexual equality has changed since I was a young woman. For example, I was a newly married young woman when my sister-in-law -a very sophisticated woman much older than I ,who by the way, was dipping quite lively into the "battle of the sexes" scene of her time, said to me. "Think of sex as a combaloi" [the string of amber beads that Greek men and some women play with as they sip their coffee] "For a man-the  more women he collects in his life- the more valuable he becomes. For a woman- the more men the less valuable she becomes." Why this lovely sophisticated woman needed to tell me this at that time is a mystery as I was newly married and very much in love. Nonetheless it obviously affected me as I still remember it. Did I Believe it? Did I not ?  I don't know if I did. I know I did not spend much time thinking about it at the time. Now I am thinking about it and wondering if it is still valid. Sexual activity has changed and is light years away from when I was a young woman. The sexual revolution in the sixties and the pill changed all that-or did it-I wonder.  I have decided to use as a measurement of how changed we really have become on two four letter words. At the present time when a man has had great success with women and enjoyed a variety of  experience in the sexual arena we use the four letter  word hunk and  say "what a hunk!" and there is approval and appreciation. When a woman has the same experience we use the four letter "S" word. I am sorry to say, the reaction is not the same. No- eyebrows are raised with disapproval. Mind you there are some brave girls who defiantly own the "s" word and I approve but the word "defiantly" negates the brave action. The word "S" still resonates in a negative way- the word by the way is "slut " of course, and apparently does not fall trippingly off my tongue easily-obviously I have issues  with this word. So to briefly sum up the present sexual mores- -a man ought to be bad to be a hunk  and a woman ought to be good to not be a slut - we haven't come a long way after all baby. This is giving me a headache. I think I"ll pour myself a glass of my favourite red and watch some sopoforic T.V.

BLOGG # 113-HANDIDARTING AROUND VICTORIA

I thought I was finished with learning curves since breaking my ankle but I was wrong. In the past few weeks I have encountered a whole new adventure on the path of recovery- the experience of using the Handidart. I am living in Cordova Bay at this time which is at least a half hour drive from the physiotherapy clinic I am attending so have been using the handidart services. This service of transport for disabled clients includes transferring by wheelchair accessible buses from the client's house to the clinic and if necessary escorting them into the clinic.  This service  costs the client an astounding $2.50 each trip.  The drivers are caring  and above all enjoy their work and their passengers. They are also good and cheerful conversationalists which is a great boon to often confined and lonely clients.
 All this I found out is supported by the transport system which has a budget of five million dollars  annually. They do about 1200 trips a day, the number of clients is increasing continuously so the drivers are very busy indeed and the downside is long waiting times to get home again. So this is my newest source of entertainment and newest learning curve which I enjoy thoroughly- the only way to absorb life's learning curves. I will now describe my last ride to show you why I enjoy them. My driver was a young enthusiastic man in his thirties, a family man,who was very empathetic because he too had sustained a crippling injury and had worn a starbucks boot for months. He was talkative and knowledgeable  about the neighborhoods we passed through and I learned a lot of enticing things. For example he pointed out a house in which a murder had been committed a few years ago with all the details. I also got a capsuled story of his life. He came originally from Churchill Manitoba, where he spent six years being a polar bear tour guide. His descriptions of these beautiful fearful animals was very moving and at the end of the drive as he escorted me into the clinic he showed me his candid photos of these wonderful creatures, telling me about the polar bear's fur's translucence and how the  colour of it changes from grey to golden depending on the atmosphere. He said they are breathtaking and fierce,and dangerous and he had been chased  by them several times. He then wished me good luck with my therapy. My ride home was with a different driver. Unlike the drive to the clinic in which I was the only passenger, here there were several. The first passenger was an elegant woman wearing a lot of jewellery.She was driven to the Uplands golf course for an elegant  luncheon. We then picked up an elderly gentleman near the university and took him to "Silver Threads"a center for  seniors. After dropping him off we drove up  hills and down dales, wound round shady lanes and by a haunting oak grove to another area I have never seen  to pick up a person going to another clinic for treatment and so on until there were five of us along with our wheelchairs and walkers packed in the bus. The driver seemed to know all the passengers,cheerfully asking them about their day as he tucked them into their seats. I was the last one to be driven home so had time to have a conversation with him too. It was obvious that he loved his job and it was heartening to see this and it was interesting to learn about his life too. As you see I am having an  entertaining and totally surprising good time all of March. This is the fun of being alive-one never knows what good unexpected things we meet around the corner-and March is the month about meeting with the handidart experience-a truly unexpected one.

BLOGG # 111--LOVE IS THE ANSWER

Yesterday I reread the bloggs I had written on Valentine's Days in the  past and I fear I came off sounding like a cynic about love. This is not true.The truth is that I have always believed without question in the importance of love. I have recently been thinking a lot about the subject of romantic love especially in the past few days. Perhaps this is because I am so far removed  from the commercial aspect of Valentine's Day- isolated as I am due to my fractured ankle,unable to stroll down the aisles of shops selling beautiful sentimental cards,chocolates boxes shaped as hearts and huge bouquets of red roses. I also am prevented from watching Romantic movies on television as everyone here loves action movies. Therefore I have been reading more about the subject of Romantic Love lately by famous writers  and it's influence on society and especially on the individual. The past few months I have been examining how I feel about this problematic subject and coming to various conclusions about it. For one thing I have discovered that I do not know as much as I thought I knew about this subject even though Jane Austin is my favourite author. Of course I am clear on the importance of universal love. It is necessary for our survival and right now it seems more important than ever and certainly it is being  shown now as the world works towards trying to solve the refugee problem. This is a very important aspect but what Valentine's day is really  about is romantic love. It  is very easy to be cynical in this day and age  about romantic love and one must work hard to prevent this cynicism. What I have found out is that romantic love does indeed exist. Also it is very durable in spite of popular songs describing broken hearts. Romantic love is so durable in that it has survived over the eons of history. It has been described in detail, in ecstasy and in despair  throughout history and the amazing thing is how accurate the descriptions are.  Shakespeare's sonnets are not far removed from Hank Williams's "western cowboy brokenhearted songs". Perhaps even the current "Rap" music -if one could possibly understand them, talks of everlasting love too. Ahhh and that is the crux of the matter-"Everlasting Love" That is where we misunderstand romantic love and that is our Achilles heel-We cannot hold onto love- love cannot be imprisoned-it cannot be controlled and the first thing we want to do when we fall in love is to try to hold on to it-as Leonard Cohen promises so poignantly "I will love you always." Does this mean love lasting forever isn't possible? Of course not! Love does last forever- we just can't hang on to it! Love is free-it has it's own agenda and we must humbly let it go. The paradox is "letting go" is what ensures love lasts forever but the question is how do you let go? Mind you this does not resemble most love songs. So here I am on Valentine's Day contemplating Romantic Love-nary a lover,valentine, red rose or chocolate in sight knowing yes,love exists, it is permanent though sometimes fickle, constant though not binding,trustworthy even when our hearts are broken-help-!! and it really makes the world go around. Yes! Love Matters-Love really is the answer.  And trust me--there is nothing like it
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