Tag Archives: memory

Age is Just a Number – – Ha! Age is a Bunch of Numbers!

An actual card given to me this Saturday from some young Whippersnapper.

An actual card given to me this Saturday from some young Whippersnapper.

“AGE IS JUST A NUMBER!”  People like to quote that old bumper sticker adage when they’re in a relationship with one person who is significantly younger or older than they are.  (yet they want things to work)  Well, I cannot begin to tell you how much I wish that romantic topic is what I’ll be writing about today.

But alas, I turn 50 on Wednesday, so instead this is going to be about getting older, so I can submit it to the WordPress Prompt before I get too old to comprehend the entry rules.  Maybe it’s a contest or Publisher’s Clearinghouse sweepstakes I can win….Ed McMahon lurking?

Therefore the numbers I am going to focus on are all the numbers that younger people who like to say, “Age is Just a Number” don’t EVER have to worry about.   Are you ready to examine them?  Let’s go!

115/65 – – This is my blood-pressure.  That is, when I am not contemplating how much I’d like to teach a good, “strong” lesson to all the young troublemakers who chirp, “Age is just a number.”

210 – – This is my total cholesterol and I defy you to find two articles that agree this is a bad number without giving you some ratio formula that sends you back to 8th grade math class.  And then where would you be?  Passing, “Do you like me?” notes to cute Jeff W?  Or maybe to cute Susan M?  Because after all, “Gender is just a word.”

1,310 – – This is the number of Calories that “they” claim I can take in and still maintain my current weight, (a number by the way, that shall remain nameless numberless?)   Yeah, sure!  This is also the exact number of sit-ups & push-ups I’ll need to do, plus the # of times I must run around my block if I eat anywhere NEAR that number of calories!

148 – – The number of my friends over forty who can relate to what I’m talking about here.  At least I’m not alone. And yes, misery DOES love company.  Misery particularly loves when the company you keep makes you look far better in comparison. (Hey, everything is relative!)  You know, like surrounding yourself with older, uglier and duller – – so that suddenly you start to look pretty darn good?!  Keeping this theory in mind – – if you’re ever looking for me from this point on, you’ll find me happily posing on the sofa pictured below.

That's right! I'll look like a ravishing bride if I get married sitting on this left cushion.

That’s right! I’ll look like a ravishing bride if I get married sitting on this left cushion.

5 – – Average number of times in a week I lose my keys. We’re coming off a high-achieving week right now because it’s actually been 8 times.  But I finally got smart and made copies so I have two more sets left until I’m really desperate.  They called me from Target on Friday and urgently declared, “Miss Menopause?? We just found your car keys in our shopping cart!”  I magnanimously said, “That’s okay.  Give them to someone more needy than I.”  Then I leisurely strolled to retrieve my 9th set from my jewelry box.

16 – – Number of times I look at my hair in a mirror per day and say, “Gray is the new Brunette.”

.2 – – This is the amount of Testosterone that courses thru my veins.  1. Google the amount in the average woman.   2. Google what kind of things Testosterone influences in your body.  3. Agree with me that I will never get remarried if I cannot raise this number.

4 – – Number of hours I sleep in a night.  This is on a good night.  This is because of a) 26 hot-flashes  b) 22 thoughts of,  “I better not forget to do such ‘n such tomorrow. c) 6 night sweats (don’t tell me this is the same thing as a hot-flash.  It’s not!)   d)  3  reoccurring, terrifying nightmares that I got remarried on that couch pictured above.  Or remarried at all.  d)  16 funny noises (not “ha-ha” like a whoopie cushion) that I think I hear at 1:45 am, which subsequently require my walking thru the entire house with a baseball bat.  e) 2 realizations that I should probably make my sports-enthusiast son a baseball themed birthday party.  f)  80 –  the number of google searches at 4 am it takes me to find a local bakery that will make the perfect baseball diamond-shaped cake.

14 and 1/2 – – The number of times someone tells me in a day that I am “a little bit” obsessive/compulsive.  The 1/2 is from someone else who also has OCD and keeps changing their mind.

2650 – – Number of piano lessons I was “encouraged” to have between the ages of 8-16 years old because my mother told me I would be popular at parties. “After all, everyone loves a good sing-along,” she cajoled.

0 (zero) – – Number of times I have been dragged to a piano and requested to play Moonlight Sonata or a Polka by ANYONE at all during some wild musical bash in someone’s home.

4 – – Number of times my mother reads my blog in a week so I can say, “See?  I told you so.”

22 – – The average number of pills YOU Dear Reader will need to take every single day  (to keep all the above numbers in control!) as you age.  Note:  I however, will NOT be ingesting any of this junk because I’ve officially changed my mind about this whole entire thing.  I don’t need to win any writing contest about aging.  I withdraw my entry! Forget it! (What writing contest?  See it’s already forgotten!) I’m doing just fine as a young spring chicken, thank you very much.

Age is a bunch of numbers (and a bunch of pills?) No Thank You!

Age is a bunch of numbers (and a bunch of pills?) No Thank You!

What “number” bothers you the most about aging?  Can you make light of it?  Leave me a comment below!

The Twilight Crone

photo-175This week – – a rare glimpse into the Diary of a Mad, Maniacal, Menopausal Maiden, AKA . . . Me! Before you delve into today’s confidential entry, let me set the proper mood(swing) for you.

“You’re traveling to another dimension, a dimension not only of brain-fog and confusion, but also of mindless minutia and memory loss, a journey into a Midlife Meltdown whose boundaries exceed the imagination. At the signpost up ahead, your next stop – – ‘The Hormone Zone!’” (Cue irritating eerie music and Rod Serling’s voice getting on my last nerve!)

Dear Diary – – Today was averagely efficient. I loaded dirty laundry into the dishwasher, stepped on the gas-pedal thinking it was the brake while driving to McDonald’s where I paid at the cashier window, zoomed right on through the pick-up window without any food (much two my kid’s chagrin) then went home to find the Windex in the freezer where I was looking for some ice-cream, (as a consolation to my kids for their french-fryless existence) which was finally located in the refrigerator doing the perfect impression of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Soup!

But then Dear Diary, something miraculous occurred! I was given a sign from above that at age 49; I’m to become a mother again. On the kitchen table was a stick from one of those test kits with a little pink holy cross in the results window (somewhat odd for a Jewish girl) but some call this a “plus sign,” meaning a positive pregnancy test! photo-177Never mind not recalling ever taking this test – -it wouldn’t be the first time my memory fails me. But the point is . . . I am with child! I searched online for statistics of women my age who have buns in ovens, and instantly craved Cinnabon. That’s when our home phone rang.

“I’m busy gurgling something important on the Internet,” I informed my eldest daughter.

“It’s Googling, Mother,” she sighed.

“Right! Guess what? I’m pregnant. I found a stick I must’ve peed on and it’s positive.” Patient silence.

“Firstly, You did not pee on a stick. You spit in a tube. Last night, remember? Secondly, you’re not going to have a baby. You have high cholesterol.”

After my disappointment waned (not over losing diapers and breastfeeding; losing eggs and red-meat!) we had our usual conversation.

“Why won’t you save money and get rid of this landline that we’re talking on? After all, you do own a cellphone,” she reminded me.

“Because I need this home phone to call my cellphone. When I misplace it.”

She hung up exasperated.  I immediately called my cell phone.  Eight different times.

In my defense, the ringer was off, making it inaudible. On the ninth time, I found it in the kitchen garbage (more a commentary on my age than the quality of my Android!) but I was thrilled to see eight new voice-mails had come in!

My literary agent? Publisher’s Clearinghouse? My high school boyfriend saying his life has never been the same since dumping me? My kids planning me a surprise 50th?

But all eight recordings were from myself, saying the same thing, “Will you children be quiet while I call my cell? I’m trying to hear it vibrate!” Oh yes, there WAS a ninth caller – – my own mother, (whom I must’ve forgotten phoning earlier with my wondrous news) congratulating me on my pregnancy, but fervently refusing to babysit one more grandchild. Naturally.

Sigh, goodnight Diary.

Submitted for your approval: One Little Miss Menopause – – A very tired, confused, brain-fogged woman destined to keep wandering (for lost items) and wondering (is she pregnant?  Or? )  does she just have high cholesterol? But consider this for a moment in time – – Was there really a home test? Or a daughter? Or a cell phone? Or a McDonalds, a diary, or even a blog that you read at all? Maybe she’s just a mannequin in a store window?photo-176 Or a doll come to life?

We’ve got answers to all your pressing questions in tonight’s very small exercise in Menopausal Mania, whenever you dwell in the “”Once Upon Your Prime” Blog Zone!”

Is Your Memory Lane Paved With Potholes?

photo-123

“Not only is my short term memory bad, but so IS my short term memory.” – Anonymous (Note: Perhaps author forgot her own name?)

Are you losing it? In order to decide, first you must remember what “It” refers to. Then you must retain your answer without forgetting the original question. I guess it’s obvious by now that “it” means your memory! If you aren’t sure, take the following quiz … But file away the number 18 for a special bonus section at the end.

1. Do you walk into rooms needing someone holding flashcards with prompts of why you came? i.e. “Purse?” or “To make dinner?” or “To have sex?” or “To yell at my kids?”

2. Ever save on monthly entertainment with just one book, one DVD movie and one magazine? Isn’t it wonderful to watch Titanic 18 times, constantly shocked when she lets go of his hand on that wooden board in the icy water!? (PS. He didn’t need to drown – – They both COULD’VE balanced.)

3. When you go to a deli with a friend or spouse, do you ask them, “Is it the pastrami or the corned beef I like here?”

4. Is this how you tell jokes at a party? “A Priest and a bar walk into a Rabbi. Oops, that’s the punch line, only it’s wrong. Pretend you didn’t hear that. And scratch the bar – – they’re playing 18 hole golf. And then uh…what’s another word for a small horse? Oh, right! So then a pony comes over. Or was it a parrot? Alright Honey, you tell it! Never mind, I’ll send you guys the joke later when I refresh my memory on who emailed it to me!”

5. When you hear Streisand belting out, “The Way We Were,” are you grateful for the following famous lyrics? “Memories may be beautiful and yet….What’s too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget.” Yeah, that’s the ticket! We voluntarily forget where we park our car because it hurts too much to recall. Better to get stared at while the security guy drives us 18 miles around the Nordstrom’s lot in his jerky little golf cart.

6. Do you claim your short term memory is worse than your long term memory? Which really means, you can’t recount what you had for dinner OR for breakfast?

7. Do you ever re-gift a present to a friend, then worry she might be who gave you, “The All New Clapper, Chia Pet Snuggie” in the first place? (Relax… she can’t remember either.)

If you answered ‘Yes” to several questions, rest assured you are exactly normal. But if you answered “Yes” to all, rest assured you are exactly like me. But we can still call ourselves normal, if we just conveniently forget what the definition is! So always remember you are NOT alone and there’s strength in numbers . . . which reminds me – – Hmm, next week’s topic might need to be on the significance of the number uh, um, was it 28? Because for the life of me now, I cannot recollect why I asked you to remember it.

See? We can all forget about your test results – – truly I am the one officially losing it!