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March 19, 2014 at 8:49 am by Claudia

snowmelting

It’s melting. Slowly but surely. The three different sections of snow in the dog corral used to be so high that I couldn’t see Scout as she walked the paths.

snowmelting2

And the chairs on the Funky Patio are recognizable once again.

A few more days of temps in the forties and most of it will be gone. Our local weather will still be on the cold side for the rest of March. Winter clearly doesn’t want to leave our neck of the woods just yet.

Thanks for all of the wonderful comments on yesterday’s post. It clearly struck a chord with many of you. You know, I was really trying to examine the curious process of aging, of seeing a reflection in the mirror that is no longer the same person you knew and how I myself struggle with that process. How do I come to terms with that? I sort of sailed through most of my fifties. It was only toward the end of that decade that I started to see some real changes.

I’ve lost about 10 – 15 pounds this winter by cutting out sugar. I have a sweet tooth but I found that after a few weeks without sweets, I didn’t crave them. I’d still like to lose more weight, simply because I feel better, have less aches and pains and more energy without the extra weight I was carrying.

I really am not someone who wants to color my hair. Though I said that sometimes it seems to make my skin look even paler, at the same time, I receive lots of compliments about my gray hair. I always have. I think it’s less about hair color for me and more about spirit, joy, an appetite for learning and growing and, finally, a happiness that comes from within. So, yes, maybe I’ll consider coloring my hair, but frankly? Probably not. I will put on makeup more often, however. I do feel better if I have it on when I’m in public. But don’t start thinking I’m going to go through some sort of makeover, unless we’re talking about a change in perception and attitude. That’s where the makeover needs to happen. Everything else is surface, and that’s perfectly fine, nothing at all wrong with that. But it isn’t any substitute for facing fear and the very real fact that we all age and have to come to terms with it.

I think the goal for me is coming to a joyous acceptance of being a certain age. That doesn’t mean giving up or giving in; it means embracing, exulting and knowing, deep within, that all one’s years of living are reflected in the lines on the face, in the gray of the hair, in the inner wisdom that shines through every pore of the skin.

It’s a struggle at times. I’ve been down lately. I’ve been homebound a lot. I seem to be on the edge of some transition with my career and it worries me. My mother has been ill. All of that is reflected in the way I see myself at this moment in time. Sometimes I call Don and cry. I did that yesterday. Life can be messy.

But on a good day, I have a twinkle in my eye and a great sense of humor, I have lots of love in my heart and a sense of the ridiculous, I’m really smart and, boy, have I learned a lot over the years. I dance around the house, I sing to my doggie, I make funny faces, I laugh a lot, I create, I write, I help others, I try to be of service.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

Happy Wednesday.

ClaudiaSignature140X93

Filed Under: aging, life, winter 54 Comments

When The Person Looking Back At Me In The Mirror Is A Stranger

March 18, 2014 at 8:44 am by Claudia

me

Me. In an old sweatshirt covered in paint. No makeup. Hair still wet.

My bathroom mirror is the mirror I use most often. I don’t have a full-length mirror anywhere in the house. It’s the mirror I use to put on makeup, to check my hair, to gauge the way I look on any given day.

I think it may be a little on the kind side.

How else can I explain all the different and sometimes shocking glimpses I get of myself when I’m out and about?  There’s the quick view I get of my profile as I walk by a shop window: who is that old woman? Or the view of my face and jawline when I’m sitting in the chair as I get my hair cut, with the sun streaming in on my left – oh heavens, I have to look away. Especially when the young woman cutting my hair has the flawless, tight skin of a twenty-something.

Or yesterday. I was in Lowe’s with no makeup on, and happened to catch my reflection in one of the bathroom mirrors that was on display. The overhead lighting at Lowe’s isn’t at all kind. My skin looked saggy, I had circles under my eyes. My jowl line seemed to be heading for the floor.

I was so shocked at the stranger who was looking back at me that I quickly moved away to another part of the store.

Are all these people me? How can I look so starkly different from the woman who looks back at me from the bathroom mirror? I feel like I’m trapped in some bizarre funhouse that leaves me unable to recognize the true me.

I call Don in a panic. And he says the usual things, that I look beautiful, that those glimpses I’ve been getting aren’t the way I really look. But he loves me and he sees me through love’s eyes. And I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong.

As much as I write about being ‘seasoned’ – my positive word for aging – I have real trouble with it sometimes. I’m 61. I tell myself that 61 is no longer what it was a generation ago. And though I have a few aches and pains, I don’t feel 61. I feel like I’m still in my forties.

My outside doesn’t match the way I feel inside. And I find it depressing.

How do we come to terms with that? How do I let myself age in a positive way? How do I accept the fact that I no longer look the way I did in my forties or in my fifties?

I’m going to be totally honest here: I miss the way I used to look.

I was a late bloomer who felt awkward and unattractive for many years until I hit my thirties and then I blossomed. I came into my own. I liked the way that Claudia looked.

I’m not so crazy about the present day Claudia’s reflection in the mirror.

Of course, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to slap some makeup on before I go out in public. But even makeup doesn’t go on the way it used to. And my coloring is different. My dark brown hair is now a mix of brown and gray, making my pale skin look even paler.

Look. I basically eschew the idea of plastic surgery, of fillers, of botox, of implants. Most of the time, they look ridiculous and, I think, draw attention to the fact that someone is trying to cover up the signs of aging, rather than successfully disguising them. And then, that’s all I see. I study the overly smooth, shiny skin on the cheekbone that doesn’t match the neck, or the way that person looks almost unrecognizable with skin pulled this way and that. I wouldn’t go under the knife, couldn’t afford to even if I wanted to, but I get it. I understand wanting to tweak things, to tighten up a sagging jowl line, to have the high, full cheekbones of yore, to feel young again. I understand wanting to see the me I know in the mirror, not the stranger who’s looking back at me.

It’s a challenge, isn’t it? How to age, to season, with grace and style and a modicum of class? That’s what I aim for. I want to accept who I am at this stage of my life, yet I don’t want to give up caring about the way I look. But I don’t want to care so much that I become unhappy with who I am now. Does that make sense?

That’s where I am today.

I’m going to be writing the occasional post on the aging/seasoning process. Heck, I’m in the midst of it, why not explore it? Maybe I’ll put them all together in a book someday.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts, my friends.

Happy Tuesday.

ClaudiaSignature140X93

 

 

Filed Under: aging, life 139 Comments

On Sunday

March 16, 2014 at 9:04 am by Claudia

tulipstudy1

You had to know I’d be taking pictures of the flowers I bought the other day. I’ve been deprived of that pleasure for several months.

Ice Station Zebra, meet some wonderful things called ‘flowers.’

Yes, they do exist. I’m not kidding.

tulipstudy2

They look especially pretty against the white of the snow that has become a seemingly permanent part of the landscape here at Ice Station Zebra.

But wait. The snow has actually been melting. That’s a wonderful thing.

But wait again. Hugs amounts of melting snow = Mud. Lots of it. The kind of mud you slip and slide in. The kind of mud that gets all over Scout’s feet. And that has to wiped off her feet every time she comes in the house resulting in a struggle as she tries to elude my grasp. Yesterday she tried a move to the side and I barely managed to catch her.

There is mud everywhere, along with the snow still on the ground. Yesterday I grabbed some straw and covered some of the paths with it. I still have more to go.

scoutonstraw

It helps a little.

As someone who tries to steer away from 24 hour cable news, I have to admit I have been mesmerized by the disappearance of Flight 370. The mystery seems to deepen every day, with some clues that seemed promising fizzling out and new clues taking their place. I cannot begin to imagine the agony the families of the missing are going through as more and more time elapses since the plane’s disappearance. It’s a real-life mystery that I can’t put down. Have you been following this story? It seems impossible that they are still alive, but there is always the faint chance that the plane landed somewhere. I hope that is the case.

And since I have been watching so much cable news, I have to once again say how much I dislike pharmaceutical commercials, which push a drug while including an endless list of possible or probable reactions from taking that drug – including death. Every time we hear one of these lists, Don and I roll our eyes: Really? This is supposed to make me want to take this drug?

And now they’re trying to be hip. Low testosterone is called “LowT.” Hepatitis C is called “HepC.” Medical conditions have become the equivalent of a rapper’s nickname.

What?? 

Another head shaker from yours truly.

The winner of a copy of The Accident is Kathy. Congratulations!

Happy Sunday.

ClaudiaSignature140X93

 

Filed Under: flowers, life, media 46 Comments

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Welcome!

Welcome!

I live in a little cottage in the country with my husband. It's a sweet place, sheltered by old trees and surrounded by gardens. The inside is full of the things we love. I love to write, I love my camera, I love creating, I love gardening. My decorating style is eclectic; full of vintage and a bit of whimsy.

I've worked in the theater for more years than I can count. I'm currently a voice, speech, dialect and text coach freelancing on Broadway, off Broadway, and in regional theater.

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