You're Never Too Old To Go After Your Dreams

Please give a BIG, warm welcome to my guest blogger, Marci Nault. I met Marci recently at a writer's social, and she lights up the room with her spark for life. Marci, an author and blogger of "101 Dreams Come True," has embarked on an inspiring project in which she is attempting to accomplish 101 lifelong dreams by June 4, 2012. (Read more about Marci HERE.)

It's all yours, Marci . . .


We are a nation focused on youth. We believe we must be successful early in life. We push our young to peak in sports by the time they're teenagers, and we're amazed when a man or woman in his or her 30s still competes professionally. We think we must accomplish everything before 30. When that doesn't happen we try to complete our lists by 40.

It seems that if we've come to a certain age and haven't accomplished our dreams, the chance has passed never to return. I've heard the comment, "Well I used to dream about doing things, but then life happened and I grew up." People are constantly trying to push back the clock with serums, plastic surgery and supplements for fear of getting older. Part of the reason is the change in their appearance, but I believe it's more about the dreams that have been unrealized.

They expected that by a certain age they would be in a certain place in their lives, and when it didn't happen, they try to grab more time.

It's never too late to realize a dream. Maybe it won't look the same. I'm never going to go to the Olympics to compete in skating. Sure, I could push my body five hours per day on the ice, six days a week, but for me, it's not worth it. The fact that I get to step onto the ice and live my passion is life-fulfilling.

Recently, at a world recreational skating competition, I had the chance to meet an 84-year-old skater. This woman amazed the crowd. She competed in over five events doing programs from one to two minutes in length. Programs aren't easy. To skate consistently for two minutes makes a young girl breathe heavily. This woman jumped, spun, and did spirals. When I spoke with her, she said, "You either move or you die. I do what I love and that keeps me young. Age is all in your mind, no matter what you look like on the outside."

So with that said, I hope this video inspires you to go after life with gusto - to move toward your dreams without thought to age. My friend recorded this video from the stands and it's hard to see, but this woman is twirling batons while skating.

Senior Portrait

OK, now I really feel old. Yesterday, I went to the movies with my sister. In the ticket line, the lady in front of me asked for a senior discount. She looked like a legitimate senior, probably in her late 50s. I suddenly realized that I had my AARP card on me (which, when I got it in the mail a few months ago, I decided not to blog about it because I am STILL in denial that I’m even close to being in this demographic group) and so I pulled it out and old-monkey-see, old-monkey-do, I asked for the senior discount, too.

Honestly, I fully expected the ticket agent to call my bluff and call her manager over to rat on me, tell him that there was an imposter at the window trying to scam her way into the theater on a senior discount . . . but she did nothing of the sort. She simply looked at me, flipped the card over, and said, “OK, $7 please.”

It’s a pretty sad day, indeed, when you can impersonate a senior citizen and get away with it.

I wanted to laugh. Make a joke out of it, Tell her, “Oh, come on! Do I LOOK like a senior?” But I was afraid of her response, so I said nothing but “Thanks,” and walked into the theater, passing symbolically into a whole new world. A grayer one at that.

Then it suddenly occurred to me that this AARP card could really work to my advantage. Hmmm . . . wonder if I can get a senior discount on a bucket of popcorn??

A Cougar Moment

First off, let me apologize for neglecting this blog for two whole months. We were stuck in the 70s, INDEED.

You're probably wondering who these two young pups are in the photo. They are the few, the proud, the marines that I met at a recent holiday party. And one of them -- believe it or not -- showed an interest in me. ME! A woman nearly twice his age! And he wasn't even drunk, either!

Now, I'm not one who usually goes after younger men. It just feels, well . . . predatory to be flirting with a man/guy/boy/kid who could easily be my own son. But can I help it if he was drawn to me like a moth to a flame . . . or more like a moth to an old sweater?

When we were introduced, I felt SOMETHING. Slightly muted, but it was there. Chemistry, perhaps, smothered in a few coats of dust. But he was so YOUNG, so adorable, so buff, and I was so, so . . . SO not going there!

We started talking about little things and quickly discovered that we had a lot in common. Like a love for David Sedaris and Sean Hannity. I liked his confidence, his strength. (We arm-wrestled. He won.) His patriotism and how resolute he was about defending our country. And yes, I was attracted to his boyishness, too. I now understand why older men go after younger women: it makes them feel younger; it takes them back to a time when life was far less complicated. I felt that way that night -- young and somewhat carefree.

Where were the guys like this when I was in MY 20s? Guys around whom I feel beautiful, intelligent and interesting.

Apparently, not even born yet.

It was a strange, awkward and wonderful dance of emotions that night. It ended sweetly, with a kiss on my cheek. He and his best buddy in the photo are going to be shipped off to Afghanistan soon. I’m worried for them. Their specific assignment in the Marines makes them the second most shot-at target on the battlefield. Dear, God!

He promised that when he returns, “I will track you down and give you the biggest kiss ever!” I’m blushing, but I plan to hold you to that, Soldier.

Be safe. Please come home. And Merry Christmas to all our young and fearless soldiers overseas.

Stuck In The ’70s

(Click on the hyperlinks to hear the songs!)

Every morning, I have this quirky routine. After I drop off my daughters at school, I walk (very eagerly) to the TV and turn on the 70s music channel. It’s the music I grew up with. And now it’s the music I exercise to. And dance like a dork to (so say my kids) as I clean up the breakfast dishes. It also creates a happy backdrop to reading my morning e-mails.
I’m hearing songs that I have long forgotten, but ones that instantly jog my memory and take me back to an easier time. The time before the Three BIG M’s: Marriage, mothering and menopause.
Who doesn’t love Three Dog Night’s “Joy To The World”? Or The Bee Gee’s “Fanny, Be Tender With My Love”? Or “We’ve Only Just Begun” by The Carpenters? Now that I think about it, songs back in the 70s were innocent and more soulful. They were more about love, or the promise of love. Today, songs are about girls kissing girls, rappers slapping big booties and trampy women taking rides on disco sticks. (Good GAWD!)
My older sister, Lori, and I LOOOVED "I Think I Love You" by The Partridge Family. So much so, that we laid in our rooms all day in the summer listening to the radio, just WAITING for that song to be played. One day, Lori couldn't hold out any longer. I mean, she really had to use the restroom, so she got up to go, and wouldn't you know it . . . the song came on the minute she left. I jumped off the bed and yelled down the hall: "Lori!! I Think I Love You!!" My mom came around the corner just then and said, "Lynn, that's the nicest thing I've ever heard you say to your sister." Too funny.
But I must confess, the real reason I love listening to 70s music is that it makes me feel younger. For about two hours every morning, I’m 13, 14, even 15 again. I’m a 5’8”, 100-lb. teenager in braces – Olive Oil, my friends called me (boy, was I SKINNY!) – with her whole life ahead of her. I haven’t yet fallen for the wrong guy. Or stayed too long in the wrong job in the wrong town. And I haven’t yet been betrayed by a best friend. Or by Mother Nature, who came far too early to claim my youth.
Life hasn’t turned on me. Yet. And that makes me happy.
I’d much rather listen to everyone else’s woes. Like the hippie who can’t get any respect in “Signs, Signs, Everywhere A Sign.” Or The Rolling Stones crying over "Angie."
But maybe I’m overdoing it a little, reminiscing too much about the 70s. Last night, I dreamed that Marie Osmond and I met somewhere and became instant buddies. In fact, she liked me so much, she was going to introduce me to her brother, Donny. Then my alarm went off and yanked me back to 2009. DAMN! Right when the dream was getting really GOOD!
So I fed my brain some more 70s music today, stirred up some more happy memories, hoping that when I turn in for the night tonight, I will somehow be transported back to last night’s dream. Pick up where Donny and I left off. Young, happy and in “Puppy Love,” stuck forever somewhere in the 70s.

Related articles by Zemanta

• Another victim of the economy: Marie Osmond (tvsquad.com)
• A No-Go For Marie Osmond's Talk Show! (perezhilton.com)

"Price-Check On Tampons!"

Hey, Ladies . . . remember when you used to be embarrassed to buy tampons and maxi pads at the supermarket? It never failed, you would ALWAYS get a male checker and it was just so awkward because you knew that HE KNEW you were on your period. Remember how humiliating that was?

I used to be so self-conscious about buying feminine hygiene products that whenever I had to go down that aisle in the grocery store, I'd stall and delay until every shopper left that aisle and when I was certain I was alone, only then would I grab my box of pads or tampons and throw them hurriedly into the cart and wheel it as fast as I could out of there.

But the thing about having a period is that it means you are still young and fertile and useful to the world. You don't realize how privileged you are to belong to the society of menstruating women until menopause hits and your membeship expires. Like, forever. You are officially an old woman.

So the other day, my teenaged daughter asked me to pick up a box of tampons for her at the store. I didn't think anything of it until I got to the checkout stand. And then a funny thing happened. Instead of hiding the box under a package of tortillas (and there's a sick joke in there somewhere), I proudly -- yes, I said PROUDLY -- set the box on the checkout belt all by itself so that it stood out among the other grocery items. I actually WANTED the male checker to think I was bleeding profusely, quite possibly hemorrhaging!

Perhaps it was awkward for him to be handling these items that would eventually be used in a woman's most private area. But not for me because this box of tampons shouted to the world that I was YOUNG and FERTILE and USEFUL, again. This box of tampons said that if I wanted to, I could have that checker's baby. Or the baby of the man standing behind me. Or the baby of the guy working the deli.

In fact, these tampons sitting on the checkout belt screamed to everyone who saw them that I could have my PICK of fathers for my baby because I'm still having periods, La-Di-Da, and doesn't that make me so very young and special?

Of course it was all a big, fat lie. But it was fun pretending. And I think I fooled him. I think the checker really believed that the tampons were mine. And it made me feel so young again.

I'm Outta Here!

I'm checking in before I check out. Taking a little vacay, as they say, with the kids. I'll be back in touch soon! Hope you are enjoying your summer so far.

Worried About My Sister

Image by pixieclipx via Flickr

I have three sisters. The one who is 18 months younger than me has always had the most health problems. Weird stuff, too: Fibromyalgia, TMJ, Chronic Fatigue. Doctors think a painful fall down a stairwell YEARS ago may have triggered all this.

But now she's having problems with the female side of her. She's had an irregular period for about seven months, and when it does appear, it's very light. Cramps, though. She is tired all the time and her legs feel like they're going to give out on her.

I thought menopuase, of course. She's 47, and if heredity plays a part, then she should be well into it, like her big sister here. Oddly though, her FSH (follicle-stimulating hormone) number doesn't indicate that she is in menopause yet.

She had an ultrasound last week and they discovered that the lining of her uterus has thickened, and we're all just worried sick about her. She is getting a biopsy on Tuesday. There's plenty of info on this online, which is what has frightened me. I believe one of the best preventive health measures is to educate yourself. But sometimes you can learn too much.

The possibility of uterine cancer hangs over her. All us sisters are keeping our fingers crossed -- and praying a lot -- that it's not that.

Has anyone else had a similar experience? And what was the outcome? If you respond, that means you're still living and breathing, which is a good thing, and gives me hope.

Related articles by Zemanta

• Why haven't I had a period? (cnn.com)
• Endometrial Biopsy (findmeacure.com)
• ME/CFS & Fibromyalgia Around the Web (fightingfatigue.org)