As we left the motel this morning and headed north, we were in good spirits, my man and I. Full of coffee, tea and continental breakfast treats, we put the 70ish music to playing. “There was a house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Son.” Except we weren’t heading to New Orleans, but the Animals didn’t care. We just pointed the car north and got on the interstate once again. “Round round, get around I get around. I’m gettin bugged driving up and down the same old strip. I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip.” Did we ever stop being hip? Noooo! Well, maybe we’ve slipped a bit. You could accuse us of not being real “hip”. But our music from the 1960’s and ‘70’s was cool. Far out!

Driving can get old real fast and sitting for hours can get one to hyperventilate and imagine demons and road monsters are coming at you even at 85mph. “Wild thing! You make my heart sing! You make EVERYTHING groovy.” I was starting to feel trapped and sorta wild.

You can even start babbling to your husband (aka your man). I know I get really tired and whiny after hour upon hour of driving. I want out of the car to stretch or stop for an expensive coffee or foo foo drink. I think I have freeway hypnosis! Is it catching? I might even just bolt for the door and escape, getting away from the passenger seat and seatbelt and buckled in prison called “a car”.

“There she was just a walkin down the street singing dooahditty ditty dum ditty dum.” Sounds like me. I ramble like that. Groovy. I am a “Ditty dum dum.”

Maybe there’s still hope. Maybe I can perk up. Thank goodness for rest areas and gas stations and potty breaks. I wonder if we’ll get there today. (Can I get back to you?)

Groovy.

Trippy Road Trip- Day 1

My man (insert husband) and I started our road trip today listening to ‘60’s and ‘70’s music to cut the boredom of interstate driving. James Taylor, Jim Croci and Rick Nelson songs, to mention a few, sprang forth from our car’s speakers. “I got those steadily depressing, low down mind messing, workin at the car wash blues.” Dang, we forgot to wash the car. We did wash the front windshield though.

As we passed the towns, cities, lakes and rivers, we enjoyed oooing and awwwing (insert exclaiming) about the scenery. The San Joaquin and Sacramento Valleys are impressive as are the mountain ranges. The Sierras are majestic even though in the distance. The Sacramento River is full and wide. The reservoirs are also full after a rainy, stormy California winter. Though we complained about all the rain, it was a godsend after years of drought. The grasses are still golden brown across the flat agricultural areas and hillsides.

We did experience lots of traffic near large cities. In California, you notice more exits off the freeway are given depending on the population of the city. Stockton had 9 exits.

Ninny came along for the ride. For a dog, she is a great traveler and sleeps a lot only getting excited when we stop for restroom breaks. She’s always worried that we will leave her behind.

My husband is an excellent driver, but when I drive, look out. He’s not a backseat driver; he’s a front seat, “What are you doing?” kind of commenter. A good lyric from The Garden Party: “You can’t please everyone, So you gotta please yourself.” So I sped up hitting 85 mph.

We packed our own lunch at home before hitting the road. Hours into our trip, the apples, sandwiches and snacks tasted delicious. Plus we saved money and stops for food. That didn’t stop our comments about many fast food restaurants. If you see these restaurants from the freeway, it’s like a song chorus repeating over and over, because you see the same Starbucks, Mcdonalds, Chipotle, Panda Express and so on over and over. James Taylor sang: “Just call out my name, and you know wherever I am, I’ll come running to see you again.” Yes, again and again.

>We shall see what happens tomorrow (insert- I have no idea).

When I was growing up, I used to love sitting on the sidelines of family gatherings and just listening to my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents talk, absorbing their emotions, thoughts and experiences as they told their stories. It took me away to another time and it was mesmerizing, it was fun. Maybe they would tell about the “Dirty Thirties” and struggling with life on the farm, or that coupled with the “Great Depression” and when they talked about one another like Uncle Wayne and how he survived being bit by a rattlesnake and almost died. Or when Grandma had her garden to keep the family alive and she carried water from Horse Creek to sustain her plants. Or about WWI or WWII. There were some sad and tragic stories, also happy ones, and they told them so vividly. You were there with them.

When you get old, then older and the absolute oldest, there are stories in your brain, waiting there, pausing patiently, ready to burst forth. They need to be shared, to keep the audience listening. So many fantabulous, uhh maze ing, real true blue to life stories and recollections. Someone needs to hear them and realize life is a fleeting moment filled with memories both good and bad.

But the stories that got told, then repeated can also be changed or get embellished somewhat. That’s all right though because no one seems to care nor remember exactly what happened long ago. At some point, I just got distracted, grew up and we moved away from close family and even though my Mom kept telling me stories of her life in South Dakota and my Dad told about growing up poor in Pennsylvania, the stories got repetitive and I grew tired of hearing them. When you’re a teenager or young adult, you’re building your own story. You think you know better than the “old folks”. That’s what happens naturally. I used to get sick and tired of hearing them tell the same old things over and over. Chock it up to innocence or plain ignorance.

Fast forward to being 70ish, now weary with all life throws your way, slowing down and getting a different perspective on life no longer through rose colored glasses but through bifocals or new lenses after cataract surgery. You play some of the stories from the past like a movie set up in your mind’s eye and enjoy hearing those old folks tell and retell their stories, however, you don’t always get them right or forget parts. You can’t hear them firsthand or you don’t hear as well. You wish you had written their stories down or at least videotaped them telling about the past. Regrets come flashing through.

Now we are the old folks, the ones with the stories. I’m not sure ours are as interesting. Let’s share them in any case with our children. I know I want to. Saayyy… did I ever tell you about the time my friends and I cruised La Habra Blvd listening to the new Beach Boys song?

I’m a nice, kind, even tempered person. Usually. However, as I have gotten older, I sometimes lose my patience and calm demeanor. I don’t seem to care about how others perceive me much anymore. Not much.

I’m more grouchy, touchy and grumpy. I’m bolder. I probably get into arguments more with my husband, not with close friends. That’s because we’re together a lot more since we’ve been retired. It is better for our relationship when he’s working part time on an oral history project with a small historical town nearby or when I am away to administer testing at our small school here in town for a few months each year. We aren’t together 24/7 then. I’m more detached. I feel better. Absence makes the heart grow stronger and older.

Lots of excuses are springing forth now. So we 70ish kids can just say our hearing is failing and we didn’t hear what you said. Or another good cop out is to just let your head drop, while seated, and nod off to sleep when someone gets to be too much, too much to handle. Sleepy and grumpy underneath.

Maybe I am grouchier because I’m older, I’m sleeping poorly or my health and body aren’t what they used to be. I can’t quite put an arthritic finger on the reason for being grumpy. I just don’t want to put up with complicated situations and people complaining. I haven’t got the time. In our 70’s we are in the last chapter of the book of life. Heck, we might even be on the last page. Who knows? All I know is I want stuff simple. I want the plot to go slowly and peacefully. Can’t the text in the book of life be simple sentences with lots of one syllable words? If anyone presents me with characters’ problems, I’m taking the easy way out or escaping out the back door. Maybe even down the fire escape. No, that’s too risky.

The toaster doesn’t work? Throw it out and buy a new one. Somebody asks me to do a BIG favor for them? Six weeks later, “Ohh, I forgot you had asked me.” You need money? Do I look like an ATM?

I won’t even get into the way aging can make us look or dealing with toilet issues. You know. Maybe I will touch on it. There’s the gray hair, maybe no hair at all, sagging everywhere not to mention the aches, pains and stiffness. Hey, that could be a clue. My body is stiff in places and therefore, my personality is getting stiffer. That could be it. But don’t give me your opinion. I don’t want it. Save it.

Grouchy, touchy and grumpy me. I’m not apologizing either. I’m not apologizing for my behavior. Nope. They made a movie called “Grouchy Old Men.” Why didn’t they ever make a movie called “Grouchy Old Women”? Forget it. I wouldn’t go see it nor stream it anyway.

I’m going to take a nap. Don’t wake me up because you will be sorry if you do. I might forget my age and deck you or just yell. If I yell, you probably won’t hear me.

We have been talking and writing about diets and food and recipes and food a lot lately, not to mention eating. Food. My doctor told me to lose 10 pounds but she also kindly gave me “the speech” saying to not stress about it. She told me a story about when she started a diet and strictly stuck to it for 8 days. After denying herself fruits, carbs, eggs, cheese and many fattening foods for 8 days and eating vegetables and lentils galore, she hadn’t lost any weight. She decided to have a day off so she ate whatever she liked including cookies and watched TV and relaxed all day. Then she went back to just eating sensibly and not overeating. She felt less stressed. She felt good about herself. Her point was, she said, “Feel comfortable in yourself and with your weight.” No one needs to be perfect. Just be healthy.

A famous actor, weight lifter and athlete who has a newsletter online that I follow, says that the point is to progress, not be perfect. Take baby steps. Let yourself indulge once in a while but not daily. You don’t need dessert every day. When you do, dessert will be more special. Push yourself away from the table before you feel stuffed. And above all, exercise at least 3 or 4 times per week. Just a walk can help. Motion is lotion.

I know it can be difficult since some of us are older. Exercising and keeping healthy for those 70ish gals has been tough. We have experienced the challenges to being active and dropping some weight, but it was not like when we were 20 years younger. It’s harder now. Sure if we were celebrities we would just hire cooks and trainers and diet gurus to help us. We would have our own gym and a swimming pool! That’s not plausible for us though. Heck, I can’t hire a maid. I can’t even hire my husband to help clean house.

I’ve found that keeping life in perspective and not expecting overnight results helps. Routines of exercise and consistent simple meals sure work for me. Lastly, a sense of humor and the support of family and friends can help immensely in keeping healthy. I’m ready to stop using the D word. It’s not a question. The word “diet” connotes that I have a problem with my weight. It carries with it stress. I’m too old for that. I don’t need it.

Found these dish towels at a little gift store yesterday. I laughed after reading a bunch. It was fun. We all need to laugh more. Laughing uses muscles so it’s exercise. Right?

I just had a good phone conversation with my dearest cousin. We were both complaining about how tough it is to lose weight especially in our 70’s. She said she used to lose 5 pounds easily when younger, just eating cottage cheese and fruit three times a day for a while. It worked. It was a snap. Now it’s not working that way, plus we’re both on meds that can add on the weight without even trying. We have excuses, too many to count.

I commented on how slim, young and darling she looked last summer when we visited Murdo. She absolutely did. She said she and her husband did a diet program that really worked and she was about 20 pounds lighter last summer, then gained back. At least we have a couple years before the next Murdo Reunion until we need to diet, for real.

We both said we just aren’t motivated nor disciplined right now in dieting. I gained a lot during the pandemic, being at home a lot and stuck inside. I was mindlessly eating. You know how young kids go away to college and gain weight being in the dorms and sadly eat junk food? My daughter called it the “freshmen 9” because students typically gain that much being away from home. I feel like I gained the “pandemic 20”. I just wore the same two pair of stretchy pants and same tops over and over. I should want to look good and get back to being thin. I do exercise a lot and eat sensibly, and after going to a nutritionist, she really helped me lose 4 pounds, but there’s a lot more to go. My cousin and I both agreed, we need a fire lit under us and not a cook stove one, but something that will jumpstart our desire to lose. We don’t seem to care.

What we both said is that 1-we need motivation and the desire to curb our eating and 2- we both need to seriously watch what we eat. That’s a big part of our problem. Plus just having the snacks or treats around the house doesn’t help nor lead us down the right path. I’m buying more vegetables and fruits, using the blender to make smoothies and eating rice crackers as a snack. I’m being good about cutting down on carbs, although bread talks to us both and it says,”Just one piece can’t hurt.” Celery works well as a snack also, but it doesn’t seem to talk the way bread does.

She mentioned that her downfall now is night eating. She wakes up in the wee hours and eats cookies dunked in milk or some other delicious snack. That’s easily what has added on the pounds because my cousin eats super responsibly all day. It’s in the dark late at night when she wakes up and no one is around, she eats, so if you cannot see your food and no one is around, do the calories count?

All in all, my cousin and I did have a good time laughing and joking around about our lives, our family members, and writing for the blog. We always have fun together. My cousin is the cutest and the all time best. She is also intelligent, kind and generous. After a thoroughly enjoyable conversation mostly about our weight, she had to go, so we said our loving goodbyes. Her husband was waiting. She had to get ready. She was going out to eat.

My Cuz, friend, and sister-blogger and I have been chatting about how to lose weight recently. We’re gaining! The good thing is: we exercise a lot. She has two dogs and takes them out separately about 4 times a day. I walk Nincompoop once a day and do my physical therapy exercises that my therapist taught me plus I lift weights. Not heavy ones but just 8 lbs. each. Apparently I like to lift other things besides weights, like forks with food, spoons with any desserts and glasses of sweet drinks and cups of fancy coffee drinks.

Lav came up with a simple drink that’s actually a meal in itself. It can be your breakfast drink, by itself, or lunch substitute or snack. It’s a berry blended smoothie so here she is trying to show us how she “cooks” in her simple way.