Pour some sugar on me

What can I say something just take hold of me; it was just as if I had no resistance of what was going to happen. I tuned into the convenience store parking lot, parked the car and got out. I walked into the store. and before I could even stop myself, there I was standing in front of the donuts. I must have been crazed or something. Then all of a sudden, I saw my hand reaching and picking out a cream filled donut. Stop! What are you doing? Why are you even considering this? Put that thing down and step away from the donut case. Run and never look back my mind screamed! I continued to walk toward the checkout counter with my donut in hand. Although, I felt a strong pull back to the donut case to return the donut back to its original resting place. I continued on my path of destruction.

I find it somewhat ironic but every time I am coming down with something, I crave junk food. I have no idea why, but I am sure there is some science behind this.  I was feeling just fine at that point and did not think anything of it except I had a big hankering for a creamed filled donut. It has been a long time since I have had a cold so I forgot the early warning signs.

Research has determined that sugar depletes your immune system. So why is it when I am sick all I want is junk food? For example, the only thing that sounded good last night (not me the C.O. wanted them, he likes every opportunity to have a good junk food dinner) for dinner was fish sticks and tatter tots. The first reason was that I did not even want to eat at this point anyways but felt I had to eat. The second reason is I cannot taste anything at this point and the third reason was I just had to pop them in the oven for thirty minutes, Tada done. Oh, yah and melted American cheese on top of everything.

About a week ago, before I got sick, I was listening to the radio and in one of their wonderful information blips; I thought I heard them say that we should strive for just five grams of sugar a day.  WHAT?  I immediately went to the pantry and pulled out a bunch of my food items.  I checked the sugar contents of some of my healthier items and was devastated by the fact that they contained tooooooooo much suuuuuuuugar!

Turns out it’s actually 24 grams of sugar a day recommended for woman. I need to clean my ears out I guess. Anyways that adds up to six tablespoons a day. Therefore, that is eight grams a meal, or two tablespoons a meal. Yah, I can do that, Phew.

Partner in crime

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You need a partner in crime. You know that person that really knows what happened to that lamp in the living room. In addition, that person  knows why you do not want to talk about it and neither do they. In fact, the more partners in crime you have the better off you are.  

Little secrets, like you go out to dinner with friends and one of you goes to the bathroom at the end of the meal. The other walks out with the other couple after they paid for their meal.  You assume that the one in the bathroom is going to pay and the one in the bathroom assumed you had paid. You get down the road 10 miles and an hour has gone by. So, says the one that was in the bathroom. What was the damage for dinner? I do not know you reply.  I thought you were paying for it. You both look at each other and laugh. I am not encouraging this. It can just happen.

 I was tired of newspapers lying around all the time. Every time I wanted to find something important that I had placed on the table, I had to shift through piles of newspaper. The C.O. read it occasionally and then just put in in the recycling. All I really wanted was the Sunday paper.  Our subscription was due. I did not renew it and told them we did not want the paper anymore.

All was fine and dandy for a month.  I would just pick up a Sunday paper in the mornings and everything was peaches and cream in that dept. The newspaper clutter was gone. YAH!  Then occasionally a newspaper would show up in the box. No big deal, just one paper. Then it started coming more frequently. I called. Stop Paper!    

We still get the paper. Wed thou Sunday.  The C.O. is happy because he has his paper back and now (as a special bonus) it is free. I am not happy and I am not paying for it.

My Zen

My Zen

La la la la la here I am humming along. Dote ta Dutta dote. I have accomplished almost everything I wanted to do (no problems) until eerrtt! 

My Zen absolutely interrupted. That gull-darn Internet security. Do not get me wrong I am glad it is there; nevertheless, when I cannot even get into my own blasted accounts, something is wrong! I have to use passwords everywhere for just about everything I need to do on line. There are all kinds of rules and then different protocols for usernames and passwords. Along with this every 3 to six month, you have to change them (for your security). My mind cannot take this. I have too much other stuff to remember, like what I am supposed to do today let alone remember all those pass words.

I know write them down. However, where did I write them down and where did I put that dang piece of paper? In addition, did I write down the new change to the password from the last time I was supposed to have changed it? Hummmmm? I spent a few moments pondering this.

They say you are not supposed to have the same password for everything. How can you? They all have different protocol and then it is mandatory to change them at any different given times. Not to mention you cannot have the same or similar wording from the old password, when you have to change them. I must confess, sometime I do use a similar formula for all of them. Yes, I have had those few moments when I have them all in sync, only to have to start the whole process again in 3 months or if I am adding a new device. 

Although it is amazing how they can be synced up together (if you know your passwords and user names). In addition, how it helps my Zen zoom along.

My mind!!!! I can’t do this!

Here is an example for you of insignificant threat of security. Let say a cooking web site. Really why? I would believe that they want me to use their recipes. I would believe that they would make it easy to access their database. After all, why would they put it out there for free? Who is going to steal my identity on their web site? Really? Why?

Therefore, since I forgot my user ID and password, because I have not visited the web site for 6 months. I have to go through all their security stuff. Heavens forbid it is not me wanting that recipe.  I have to answer questions I set up 6 months ago. However, for some reason I miss spelled the answer (imagine that) and do not remember how I misspell it. So I ask for help. Now I just wait for the e-mail or they do give me the choice of calling me directly. I choose e-mail, only to find out they have my old e-mail address that I cancelled and is no longer linked with my other e-mails. I went back in and choose call me on my cell phone, now I have to go look for my cell phone. In addition, go through the procedure again. 2 hour later, I got the stupid recipe.

Needless to say, we are having something different for dinner tonight. Maybe I will use the recipe tomorrow. 

I just cannot escape this

I just cannot escape this.

I just cannot escape it. At first, I thought I could just walk away. That was sooosooo many years ago. Then I felt an urgent feeling that  I needed to speed up. So I found myself running. Yet, no matter how fast I went, there it was. At first, I would just see an occasional glimpse of it, and then slowly and surly I would see it more and more  in the mirror, around every corner and in every refection. UUUUGGGGHHH!  The crone!

I am now considered an old crone, a stock character in folklore and fairy tales. I am an old woman. I am used in some stories, as disagreeable, malicious, or sinister in manner, often with magical or supernatural associations that can make me either helpful or obstructing. I am also an archetypal figure, a Wise Woman. Although, I am marginalized by my exclusion from the reproductive cycle, and my proximity to death places me in contact with occult wisdom. As a character type, I share characteristics with the hag.

I do like the title though,
Triple Goddess, 
popularized by Robert Graves and I am not sure about this but part of the neo-paganism, particularly Wicca in which she symbolizes the Dark Goddess, the dark of the moon, the end of a cycle. In New Age and Feminist spiritual circles, a "Croning" is a ritual rite of passage into an era of wisdom, freedom, and personal power.

Somehow, I do not feel useless. Neither do I feel that wise. Maybe a little more tired at the end of the day. However, I have a hard time sleeping. What is this about? I thought that I would incorporate more exercise into my life. But NO, I lay awake, because exercising more just causes a flare up of my sciatica. Also, other sports injuries I have acquired in my life just to avoid or slow her down.

I am at the end of the cycle. Things are spreading out, falling down and flapping in the breeze. Some parts of me have even developed a mind of their own and are growing in a direction they are not supposed to.

  Not that I am complaining, Ok! I guess I am. All the exercising I have done over the years useless! In addition, it used to be I could drop 10 pounds in three weeks by just cutting back on my food intake. I cannot cut back anymore! Furthermore, if I lose any weight, I just have more stuff flapping around in the breeze.

I did not go grudgingly into daughterhood, sisterhood, wifehood or motherhood. However, I will not go gentle into this rite of passage. I am going kicking, screaming and dragging my feet. 

My hair has lost its luster and bounce. I am thinking of going platinum. I might as well just cut to the chase. Right now I find more and more of these white strange scraggly things poking out of my head. They are unruly and a menace to any styling.  So, I am thinking of cutting my hair into the basic old lady short haircut.

My skin is thinning and starting to resemble something like Crape paper.  Gees Louise, if I could just go back to the occasional pimple of the past, I would be content. Sometimes I stand in front of the mirror and pull my skin on my face back with the palms of my hands. Oh! There I am I say.

All the supplements I have taken over the years to evade her, no relief. As if, they were magic potions. Even the special creams I have been using are just wasting my money.  I am still becoming an old crone. I cannot stop it. Every time I look in the mirror, there she is again! The old crone! This is not me, the me that I see in my mind.

Worst of all, in this new phase of my life I am in, I have to start writing down everything I need to do for the next day. This is distressing, because it takes me all day to write the list. Not to mention I have to carry it around with me because otherwise, I will be walking around mumbling under my breath asking myself what am I supposed to be doing.

I have been thinking of wearing scarves and turtlenecks, to cover up my sagging jaw line and turtle like neck. Now I know why they call them turtlenecks. To cover-up, your turtle like neck. Never been one to wear much makeup. However, I am sure considering it now. It used to be all I had to do was fluff the hair and go. Maybe a little mascara and blush.

This complete panic attack all started the other day. Like this was a complete surprise to me, duh. As if I had no clue, I was getting old. I was standing in a checkout line and reading the front of all those magazines, and then I saw Christie Brinkley on the front of one of them. She is turning 60 years old. Huh, I saw nothing spreading out, falling down or flapping in the breeze on her. Really, I thought to myself there obviously is some brush-up work on this photo. In addition, I would suspect she has seen a bunch of witch doctors that casted a no age spell on her

 Now we have all seen the pictures of plastic surgeries gone wrong, so even if I had the money, with my luck I would probably be one of those gone wrong surgeries. They would plaster my mug shot on a web site somewhere.

I began to look around and all I saw was old women. They were going about their business as if nothing was wrong. The problem came in when I realized I was one of them. We were all the same. Old woman, crones and hags. Of course, we were out shopping in the middle of the day. We have all day and all day to do it in, as the saying goes. We just have to get back home before dark, because we cannot see that well anymore at night.  We do not have jobs to fill our days.  We do not have small children to take care. We are crones. 

To my relief and delight, on this very same shopping trip, I ran into old friend. She is 10 years my senior. We talked a little and then gave each other a big hug. I missed her and thought of her all the time. I cannot remember why we stopped hanging out together. We talked for about a half hour and decided we needed to get back to our errands.  At that point, we exchanged phone numbers.  We also planned a lunch date. Of course, we both had to check out our schedule. As you know, everything is planned and written down in advance.

 Funny thing, when I first looked at her. I did not see the parts of her that were spreading out, falling down and flapping in the breeze. All I saw was the shine in her eyes and her beautiful soul that shined through them.  

Therefore, as I see it, I have two choices, not really, whom I am fooling. I have one choice and that is to except my fate. I am an old crone and I will not be getting any younger. Therefore, I will embrace my age, accept my medal of honor, and make use of my time to use it for good and enjoy the rest of my life.