My First Pair of Birkenstocks

I know, I know...I'm way behind the curve on this one. Well, almost three to four decades behind, but I've caught up...I bought my first pair of Birkenstock's just a week ago. It was a long time in the coming for me.

Even though I'm from California, which everyone thinks is a hip and happening place, I grew up among the conservatives. And trust me in the 60's and 70's, they didn't buy their children hippy Birkenstocks. God forbid! They bought their children sensible shoes, and so I wore Keds sneakers---remember those?

Well, as life would have it, I've worked my way from the conservative Keds to the hippy-dippy Birkenstocks. It's been a twisty, long, and sometimes treacherous trek. But now I'm outfitted for my retirement journey. And I made it to the other side. WOO HOO!!!

Thanks Guys!

I’ve been blogging Forgetful After Fifty for about 9 months or the time it takes to bring a baby into this world. I have endeavored to remain true to a whimsical, musing approach to life. And also I have attempted to present the unique perspective of an older lesbian who is partnered and who lives with cats.

One thing about this blogging business that I don’t like (as its author) is that I never see the faces of my audience. I just hope that you all laugh when I hoped you would laugh and you also teared-up when I anticipated you would.

But your comments have been really helpful, and I appreciate them a lot. They at least give me some idea if I’m amusing you or not. Please feel free to comment either on the blog or to me personally. Or better yet become a follower. I know none of us consider ourselves a follower to anybody else. Think of it as we are all leading and following each other at the same time. Or consider this: you will just have to sign-up for my blogroll. Either which way, you’ll be assured of getting each one of Forgetful After Fifty’s postings

Well, just before this posting, the blog reached the 3,000 pageviews mark. The blog has traveled around the world to English-speaking and many non-English speaking countries. We indeed are everywhere.

Thanks so much for reading Forgetful After Fifty. I’m having a blast. I hope you are too!

With laughter,
Diane

Taxes, UGH!!!

Hey guys, its that time again. The IRS has got us in its grips with the April 17th deadline. Have you filed yet? Or are you only filing for an extension?

Death and taxes are the two things you can't avoid in life. And everyone feels different about taxes, well sorta different. One thing is certain; no one wants to pay more taxes than they have to. But everyone has different ideas about how the taxes ought to be spent. And some of us want even less taxes collected.

Regardless of your political viewpoint on taxes, taxes will dutifully be collected by the IRS. Some of us will pay taxes to the IRS, and some of us will get money back. For a lot of us, we will engage in a Spring spending spree. For others, we'll deposit the money in the bank and see a bump in our savings account.

Either which way I hope the economy grows and joblessness declines because we've got an important election coming up...

The Write Stuff

I'm finally doing something I enjoy because I simply enjoy doing it. Not for money, not for recognition, not for popularity and certainly not for fame. I enjoy writing and I think more so than your average writer. Because from all the writing classes I've taken, everyone acts as if the writing is just something they did while alone to pass some time. Now, in class, they want to talk about agents, publishers and producers. That's where their passion lies. And then there's the market research and demographics and your target audience. It's easy to get consumed with the sale side of writing and forget about your writing itself.

I know this all too well. I did it until now, and if you don't believe how obsessed I was with selling my work, ask Kathleen. Maybe now I've gone extremely the other way and want only my artistic freedom. (I'm sure I'll find the middle road some time soon.)

But in the meanwhile I'm still looking for a writing class. I wonder which one will be right for me?

Will Lean Cuisine Make Me Leaner?

Like most middle-age women, I have a few pounds to lose for my health as well as my vanity. I've been avoiding this reality for many years. I would just avoid mirrors, clothing stores and my doctors' imploring speeches about losing weight.

But somehow I just stopped avoiding my "weight problem" and stopped making excuses too. Most people think overweight people eat a lot of junk or bad food. Quite the contrary in my case, I eat healthy and sometimes rich food. My problem is that I just eat too much of a good thing.

I love food. Sometimes I love to cook too. But I always have an appreciation for food. This Big Love has gotten me into clothing sizes that I will not disclose here. But for me, here's the rub: portion control.

I can't do portion control for myself. That's why I'm now on a diet of Lean Cuisine. I microwave about 300 calories of something I'd be proud to cook. And it satisfies my taste. (Often, I'll keep eating because my tastes are being left unsatisfied.) Hopefully, there will be hundreds of entrees to choose from which will also satisfy my need for variety.

It seems that Lean Cuisine is a method of weight-control for Hollywood types too. My friends tell me that grocery stores in LA boast that they carry the largest selection in that city of thin people. I hope our stores on the East Coast can keep up too.

Lean Cuisine may not be the complete answer to my weight loss issues. But it's a diet where I don't have to cook so much and the food still tastes good. I'm willing to give this method a try.

Me and Madonna

Just got MDNA, Madonna's latest. Listening to it. I love her for being such a sexual renegade. It was something when we were twenty-somethings. Well I came of age when Madonna came to stardom. She went on to become one of the richest self-made women in the world. I did not. I worked in psychology (I videotaped parent-teenager interactions, I calculated thousands of GPAs for graduate fellowships, and I talked to and emailed hundreds of wanna-be psychology graduate students.)

I put in 20 years. Madonna has put in close to 35 years, and the clock is still clicking. We are both risk-takers. I think hers paid off better than mine. But I've got no regrets.

Finding One's Place

Where's your center of being and doing? At work, at home, in your car, when you're out enjoying the night? Not necessarily your favorite spot, just where you do you.

So fess up now...

My center is in my purple chair in my living room with the cats and in front of my laptop alongside a window that looks out to ponds, ducks, geese and lots of trees. Nothing exotic or romantic, but it works for me.

Please Not Another Potluck!

I have not been to a LGBT bar in years, but I can't seem to get away from the potluck invitations. It's a staple of middle-age lesbian life: we do games and potluck get-togethers in someone's home. These social events are private and very exclusive. You either have to be a friend-of-a-friend or have answered the email on your city's lesbian listserv. No, but really, most of the time you have got to know somebody to get invited. And the group is relatively small---under 40.

But we must discuss the food. I've wheeled out my Greek salad with feta and olives several times. I picked up this salad from a neighborhood cafe and loved it. So I reproduced it and thought how nice it would be to bring it to a potluck. The salad bombed, big time! Too exotic and foreign for most people. I did notice that the deviled eggs and tuna salad were a big hit. Such is my fate! Oh well, more for me.

And then there's the fun and games. Kathleen and I belonged to a mahjongg group for a while. This group had two tables going every Friday night. But as in all things, everyone's schedules started conflicting. Also, we had too many alphas in our group. A couple of people became slightly cut-throat competitive and that killed the joy of playing the game for the rest of us.

And so for our group, game night broke up.

But we'll get another invitation to a game night soon, and another potluck won't be far behind. Or just maybe we'll all do something other than game night and potluck. How does ping-pong and billiards in a sports bar sound to you? Or a theatre group? I'll consider it. Will you?

Maybe a Little Make-Up

To wear make-up or not to wear make-up? That's the question for the 50+ lesbian. We have the shining and inspiring example of Ellen, who looks great as the 50-something Covergirl. (At her age it should be Coverwoman, but I'll let it go this time...) 

It's almost too good to be true. A mature woman albeit blond, thin and  cute as a button, selling make-up in a pant suit and short pixie hair-cut. Is this just more of the Ellen phenomenon, or has someone discovered that there might be another niche market among women---lesbians?
 
Well, I for one broke down and bought some Covergirl foundation. When I was younger, I wore foundation everyday to cover my uneven skin tones. As middle-age approached, I gave up the foundation and went natural. Personally I felt my looks suffered for it. But the peer-pressure to NOT wear make-up was overpowering, and I caved. Also, it was easy to become lazy and let myself go.
 
Now at 50 I want to do all that I can afford to look my best. I'm tired of looking tired. If a little foundation makes the difference between me feeling worn-out and beaten-down and a little more perky, then I'm using the foundation.
 
Now many would say I've entered the realm of femmes with all this make-up talk. I differ with you. Men now have their own cosmetics as well as women. So there. It's no longer about being butch or femme. It's about taking care of your skin and looking your best.
 
So when you consider all of this, you must remember that I'm from LA where even the local CVS has a cosmetic department that would rival our department stores' cosmetics counters. And I for one believe that while appearances are not everything, taking care of yourself speaks volumes about yourself.

George and Gracie Are Back!

Every Spring the birds come back! And the first ones are the House Sparrows. Several years ago I was delighted with a mating pair who took over the air vent by our front door. This pair were quite animated.   

Every day as I sat soaking up the morning sun by our front door, these real-live comedians endeared me with their song and flying dances. I watched them choose each other, dance, mate, build a nest, and incubate their eggs.
 
Now you may say that all sparrows look alike. Well, yes indeed. George looked like a guy and Gracie looked like a girl sparrow. But mostly, I knew them because they were the sparrows that had chosen our air vent and felt safe around me. George could be quite bold. If I sat still and did an almost zen-like meditation, he would come within 6 inches of my foot. He'd cock his head and I could almost hear him thinking "Two-leggeds are so strange. Doesn't she have something better to do than watch us?"
 
And then finally, we knew that the chicks had arrived because we could hear them. Unfortunately, there were too many chicks and one got kicked out of the nest.
 
I was horrified!!!

Kathleen explained to me that this was nature's form of birth control and that we should let nature take its course--such as a cat would discover "our abandoned chick" and have lunch. I just couldn't let it go. So I convinced Kathleen to bring the chick inside the house.
 
So like for all things we Googled it---"abandoned sparrow chick."  We discovered that a shoe box with heating blanket and a towel could provide a temporary nest. And ironically, our chick needed to be fed dampened cat kibble, every 20 minutes. With two cats in the house, we had plenty of cat food. And thankfully, baby birds do sleep when the sun goes down.
 
And then I Googled bird rehabilitation and found this place in the woods called Second Chance. By now, after several feedings, we had both formed a parent-baby bond with our chick. And so of course, even Kathleen took off from work the next day and drove us all to Second Chance.
 
Second Chance is a wonderful place if you're a wild bird or someone who loves them. We gave them our chick, made a donation and hoped she survived.
 
While George and Gracie might not have been the best parents, we tried to do right by their progeny. So nowadays when I see the House Sparrows, I kinda feel like one of the family.