 If I ever forget that age is creeping into my household, all I have to do is look into this particular kitchen drawer of medicines, supplements, boosters, and mystery magic pills. Every morning when I feed my dogs, who are much further into geriatric days than I am, I assemble a minimum of 13 various tablets, capsules, and gummies for the three of us. That’s on good days, when nothing is particularly painful, congested, or awry. I used to pride myself on taking nothing beyond food and drink. These things seem to creep up on you. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 158: 96 words, TOTAL = 25,671; 34,329 remaining
0 Comments
 Many have lost the intuitive ability to connect to other species, and we are suffering for it. There are measurable physiologic benefits to living around animals - short and long-term – not to mention mental, emotional, and spiritual benefits. When I press my face against Clara’s velvety ear, or lay my head on her sun-warmed, furry flank, I shed tension. But that’s the least of it; anecdotes abound. In Running With Sherman, Christopher McDougall recounts how violence suddenly plummeted in a prison full of hardened criminals. Why? They were nursing a wounded sparrow that had found its way into their cellblock. But what about our relationships with other humans? Those are threatened too. We lack physical interaction, eye contact, soul connections with each other, and that’s what we’re designed for. If anyone is playing with baby Fiona, and she smiles at them, I see their face transform into a landscape of grateful wonder and joy. Baby smiles, dog snuggles, universal goods. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 157: 160 words, TOTAL = 25,575; 34,425 remaining  Whenever they see me pull out my tennis racket, Clara and Kate slink sulkily into bed. They know this outing won’t include them. Tennis is a rare carryover sport from my youth. No more backyard kickball, no field hockey, no rugby, no lacrosse, no lung-ravaging wind sprints. I love tennis for the hand-eye challenge, the competition, the focus, the overhead smashes, and the running without realizing I’m doing it. Just as essential, though, is its social value. On an indoor court with no sun to worry about, switching sides on the odd game hardly matters, but it matters as connection time. We chat, tell stories, laugh, catch up, hear about friends, and sometimes tap into the lighthearted silliness of youth. “Good eye!” I called to my partner who let a ball fly out. For a while I couldn’t stop chanting an old cheer from Nellie’s softball days. “G-double-O-D-E-Y-E good eye—good eye good eye way to watch!” I don’t think my friends appreciated it as much as I did. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 156: 169 words, TOTAL = 25,415; 34,585 remaining  It was bound to happen eventually. I woke up with a jolt at 12:38am after about three hours of sleep. I never posted yesterday. By noon (about 13 hours ago), my blog page was cued up, awaiting entry. My writing file was open, “Day 155” entered. Nothing. I built a fire, worked on my book summary pages. Blog ideas gurgled through my brain filters, seeking purchase. I stared at the screen, came up blank. I called my niece about this weekend’s visit, processed emails, called my copyeditor, thought about the blog again, walked the dogs, looked for photo ideas. Jonathan came home. I made these two quiches (asparagus-onion-pepper and arugula-ricotta-parmesan). We played cribbage, ate dinner, read books, went to bed at 8-something (He’d worked all night. What was my excuse? Maybe it’s this giving up caffeine thing…). Anyway. Sorry. I hate making mistakes. I wonder how long it will take to get back to sleep. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 155: 155 words, TOTAL = 25,246; 34,754 remaining  Lizzo, Billy Eilish, Lil Nas X, 2020 Grammy winners Nothing makes me feel past my expiration date quite like the Grammy Awards show, which we watched last night for about an hour with Sam and Tess. First of all, two of the biggest winners are many years younger than my youngest child. Second, I find the sensory overload, both in spectacle and decibel, exhausting. Third, I could hardly understand most lyrics. Fourth, so many insider references made me feel very “out.” Nevertheless, I was captivated. I love the genre-defying work that’s happening. I love the gender-defying work as well – in the dancing, the fashion, the music. I love the defiant statements about body-image made by both Lizzo and Billy Eilish in their own unique ways. I love the new takes on old sounds (an Aerosmith-Run DMC collaboration). There is so much innovation and artistry going on. It makes me want to pay more attention. Music is not standing still. I’d like to go along for this ride. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 154: 158 words, TOTAL = 25,091; 34,909 remaining  ...more scenes from Baltimore He told her that she’d told him that I told her about when they both called me after I’d posted that thing. How accurately do you suppose that was transmitted? We are a loving family, even as we expand. We love to talk to each other, and learn about each other, and talk about each other in order to learn more about each other…which can lead to difficulties. Family politics are delicate, and when you add the additional layer of national politics, one must tread carefully. I love to see my family members’ passions rise over an idea or a person that inspires them to knock on doors, man the phones, be a mouthpiece for what they believe to be right. I learn from all of them, and tend to lean towards their passion when I’m in their presence. Not just passion. I lean towards their intelligence, their knowledge, their compelling arguments. The problem is, I want to agree with everyone and bring everyone into accord. Too often I try to achieve that unattainable goal by attempting to speak for others, a doomed goal, even if well-intentioned. We will disagree and misunderstand. Hackles will rise. I have to let that be okay. I must let everyone speak for themselves, or choose not to speak at all. 100% accord may not be attainable, but if we remain kind and open-hearted, we can disagree even while we love and respect one another. A noble goal for families, not a bad idea for countries either. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 153: 252 words, TOTAL = 24,933; 35,067 remaining  A visit to Sam and Tess’s sweet townhouse in Baltimore, an easy walk to baseball’s Camden Yards stadium, has offered us a refreshing retreat from work brain, not to mention a lighthearted foray into play brain. As a boy, Jonathan was an avid Baltimore Orioles fan. The stadium complex includes giant sculptures of numbers that have been retired in honor of the Orioles’ all-time baseball greats. J’s voice escalated with animation as he rattled off virtually every player, just by his number. A statue of Brooks Robinson with his golden glove (He won 16 golden gloves in 23 years), is a centerpiece in the city streets. Jonathan happily posed with his boyhood (and adulthood) hero. We also took advantage of half-price Friday evening at the National Aquarium on the waterfront, beautifully designed inside and out. Extraordinary jellyfish displays, dolphins, sharks, a very ugly Sea Robin, poison dart frogs, anemones of all colors, skates, rays, crabs. Then we walked to Bertha’s in the Fells Point neighborhood for crab dip and delicious shrimp, mussels, and scallops options. This city is underrated. It’s always nice to have kids living in cool cities to visit. We’ll have fun getting to know this place. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 152: 199 words, TOTAL = 24,681; 35,319 remaining  I don’t feel that old, but I find myself repeatedly startled by “the way things are now,” especially in baby world.
“Throw me one of those diapers,” I said to Nellie, referring to a stack of familiar, white, absorbent, cloth rectangles. “Mom, those are burp cloths.” “Oh.” Apparently Mike’s dad made the same error. Two old-timers. There are also “swaddles,” complex cloth and Velcro affairs for tight-wrapping baby at bedtime. Kind of like a full body straight-jacket. When she can roll over, the swaddles retire. I haven’t yet learned the Moby-wrap technique, but it’s on my list for next time. Car seats tighten SO EASILY!!! Cutting edge tech - wireless breast pumps that slip right into your bra. You can walk around your workplace while you’re auto-pumping, directed by remote control. Maybe the most important innovation is the “back-to-sleep” campaign. Since parents have started putting babies to bed ONLY on their backs, never stomach or side, SIDS deaths have plummeted. Happy babies, secure, sleeping well, safe. Still, I can’t get used the stark landscape of Fiona in her crib, wrapped up like a burrito. No stuffed animals, no blankets, no squishy bumpers. Okay, Boomer, I mean, Grandma. Get over it. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 151: 200 words, TOTAL = 24,482; 35,518 remaining  Fiona fell asleep in my arms in a big soft glider chair this afternoon. I could have put her down to sleep, or taken her outside for a walk in the stroller, but I just sat. I might have even dozed off with her for a while. This baby care stuff wears you out, plus early mornings… When I woke up, I sat some more, watching for Fiona’s breath. When she first fell asleep, it was audible and dynamic. Then she entered REM sleep, twitching, making faces. Then she slipped quietly into that breath of deepest sleep. I watched Fiona’s torso expand and relax ever so slightly with air, and my own chest rise and fall underneath her. Together we created a mesmerizing wave pattern of expansion and release, our own tiny ocean of tidal movement. Sometimes Fiona was so still that I’d hold my breath for a second to make sure she was breathing. Breath. Such a delicate, perpetual, powerful undulation of life. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 150: 164 words, TOTAL = 24,382; 35,618 remaining  I am vain enough to refrain from posting my current face. After a 2-week application of pre-cancer chemo-cream, I have a frightening mask of angry red damage from forehead to chin – “sun-damage from your childhood and teen years,” says my dermatologist. Some reactions from my family: “Leprosy face” “looks like a chemical burn from your meth lab” Hilarious. I chose quiet January for treatment time, but I’ve still had to venture out, be seen. How important the face is! Our calling card, our “open to the public” sign, unless you’re a woman in a veiled society, which would be terrible, most of the time. People who see me have been polite, if startled, but I feel subdued, shy, withdrawn. For today’s visual, I am sharing two faces of Fiona, who has found her smile. I’m on Grandma duty for a couple of days, and Fiona doesn’t mind my scary face a bit. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 149: 152 words, TOTAL = 24,218; 35,782 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs. Archives
April 2024
Categories |
RSS Feed