Would you? Could you? At 40?

Santiago de Compostela

...do the Pilgrim's Trail of Santiago? I'm going! Not for religious purposes (I don't even think there's a religious bone in my body), but just because it's one of those things I've always dreamed of doing. Let's see if this old gal will survive the 200km-6-day walk to Santiago de Compostela. Does that sound crazy enough to you?

Follow this symbol all the way to Santiago de Compostela

"Ten centuries ago, a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela entailed an arduous preparation. The pilgrim-to-be had to put things in order at home, write his last will, procure money for his gear and lodging, and obtain from his priest a certificate of good faith. Similarly, today a pilgrim needs what is called in Spain a credencial, a letter of accreditation delivered by the many Associations of the Friends of Saint James, found all over the world, which gives access to private or religious lodging for a minimal sum.

The Medieval pilgrim’s outfit consisted of a wide-brimmed hat; a long walking stick (bourdon) made of strong wood with an iron end, useful in fending off wolves and dogs; and a leather pouch slung over the shoulder to hold the small amount of food it was practical to carry."

It's now official...

I'm 40 and I better start getting used to it!

As I was telling a friend, I think it was a smooth transition and I'm all geared up for what's coming ahead: frail bones, wrinkles and boobs pointing south!

I'll be back for more blogging (or ranting), that is if I still have any readers left out there in blogland.

Monday Memory

I found my childood buddy - Harriet the Spy. Just a couple of months ago I was trying to tell a friend about one of my favourite childhood characters. All I could recall was that her name was Harriet & she loved tomato sandwiches - that's how I got started on tomato sandwiches! My friend couldn't remember Harriet. The other day as I was going through ICLW blogs I found someone's list of favourite books and there was Harriet! Eureka! Oh the joy, I had finally found her! I feel like I've been reunited with a long lost friend. I'm off to Amazon to order the books. How wonderful it will be to read Harriet at (nearly) 40. I feel like a kid again. Forget plastic surgery and botox to slow down the ageing process. The answer is finding the child inside of us and keeping that child alive!

BTW, another favoutrite character was called Betsy...does any one remember where she comes from? I must have been in grade 2 or 3 when I read the books.

You know you're getting old...

...when you look at what teens are wearing and think "ah, in my days things were so different".

Well, no they weren't! I remember having to get into to the tightest pair of Roadrunner jeans (are they still around?), so tight that you had lie on the floor to get the zipper up; so tight that you could barely breath. Does anyone out there remember those times?

However, two things I cannot stand are muffin top and whale tail. Which do you think is worse?

Ok, so I'm no Madonna

I hear Madonna turns 50 today. She looks pretty amazing. I mean, if I could guarantee skin and a body like hers at 40, age would be the least of my worries. My husband says it all comes down to botox and plastic surgery, that I have great skin and loves my figure. Ha! He would say anything to guarantee his next meal. Still, I wouldn't say no to some plastic surgery if hubby would be willing to pay. Anything to prevent boobs from starting to point south.

I'm not a Madonna fan at all, but last year I did a really nice lesson with a group of teenagers around the song "True Blue". They absolutely loved it and were dancing away in class. There was only one boy in the group, really sweet goofy little guy and you could just see his eyes rolling every time the girls asked to play the song. Here's to Madonna who makes the road to 40 seem less daunting!

Just like that

All day long I've been thinking about a post I read on a friend's blog. Just like me, she was lucky to experience the thrills of motherhood through IVF, after long years battling against our arch enemy - infertility! I think she's hitting what I call the "troublesome twos". Not in baby terms here, though. It's that post-successful-IVF phase, when you've settled comfortably into your new roll as a mom, but you start getting that itch that drives you crazy - you want to experience it all over again. Oh yes, I remember it well. But at the same time there's a little voice nagging at the back of your head, telling you that success is not guaranteed the next time round. So you find yourself at a crossroads. You either ignore that little voice and tell it to get lost, or you quit while you're ahead.

Now, I took the latter. Not because I'm an incredible source of wisdom. No siree! This chick here just got cold feet. For me, conquering infertility meant the doors were wide open to that world I had always dreamt of. The fertile world that everyone was going on about. Where people have sex if they want to have babies. Hurray! And if you're really lucky, you might forget your pill once and get knocked up. Yippee! Or better still, you might be so fertile that you take one look at your partner and...a drum roll...you're pregnant. Pretty amazing, eh? So after having had a baby, even though there's infertility looming in the background, people tell me to be careful, lots of women get pregnant like that (snap of the fingers) once they've had a baby. "Like that?" I ask. "Just like that!" (snap of the fingers) Wow! Awesome!

I know what you're thinking. If you're a little skeptical about the look and snap of the fingers, don't worry. So am I. Especially in my case - no tubes! And even if you tell these fertile people that your fallopian tubes had to be removed, they won't listen. "So-and-so got pregnant and I heard she didn't have tubes", they say. "Really? And was it just like that?" I ask. "You betcha," they say. So, I like going along with the whole charade. It makes me feel super-duper fertile. I take the piss out of people. And it's a barrel of laughs along the way.

So, you see, I like the illusion of belonging to a world that I know is not my own. Going through IVF again would mean facing up to the bitter reality that no look, pill slip, or snap of the finger would do it for me. I'd be lucky if I managed to get my ovaries producing a couple of good eggs. My son was the luck of the draw and quitting while I'm ahead, is my way of calling the shots now. My days of docs, labs, shots & meds are long gone! It's goodbye and good riddance!

Home Alone

My guys are out for a couple of hours and I have the house to myself. The little guy wanted an ice cream sundae, so big guy took him into town. And a word of caution from me before they left...."take your time!"

Although I don't admit it to them, I always get an uneasy feeling when they're not around. Seems the house becomes incredibly big and quiet. Now that's not something you get a lot of around here - peace & quiet. So, I'm ready to quick off the heels, hit the couch and get out yesterday's paper (cuz forgot to read it & don't want to let it go to waste). I might even turn on the TV, that's if my guys haven't hidden the remotes. They have a habit of hiding them from each other.

Bet you any money that once I'm settled comfortably on the sofa I'll get bored stiff. So, if I'm not back soon with another blog post, that means peace & quiet isn't so bad after all. Or could also mean that this old lady has fallen asleep while watching TV.

Sorry, folks, what a sad excuse for a post!

Dear Penis, a duet

I know this is a bit crude, but I was killing myself laughing when I got this in my inbox today (nearly peed my pants!). So, while us girls are worrying about boobs pointing south, you guys are going "nuts" over other things.

Wednesday Words

Both Sides, Now

by Joni Mitchell (1969)

Rows and flows of angel hair

And ice cream castles in the air

And feather canyons everywhere

I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun

They rain and snow on everyone

So many things I would have done

But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It's cloud illusions I recall

I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels

The dizzy dancing way you feel

As ev'ry fairy tale comes real

I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show

You leave 'em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know

Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now

From give and take, and still somehow

It's love's illusions I recall

I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud

To say "I love you" right out loud

Dreams and schemes and circus crowds

I've looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange

They shake their heads, they say I've changed

Well something's lost, but something's gained

In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

I seem to be devoting this week to Joni Mitchell. This is an extrordinary song, written back in 1969 (I was just a baby) by a 21-year-old girl. "The first song that got fussed over was 'Both Sides Now,' which I thought was a failure," she said. "Because it was such a big meditation, you know. I've looked at these things from both sides now. I do clouds from up in the air looking down and down on the ground looking up and all the things that they do. You know, and love and live. And I was 21 when I wrote that. And I got mostly ridiculed from people, from 'What do you know about life? You're 21,' you know?" Mitchell continued: "Well, actually at 21 I had experienced quite a lot of life. I'd had a rough childhood. I looked so innocent. But I'd had life and death struggles and things." Some people are pretty grown up at 21. that's when I was just about to start my infertility battle.

Have a look at these 2 videos, spanning 30 years (1970 & 2000). Pretty amazing, eh?

Monday Memory

There's definitely something wrong when you've got me posting Janis Joplin & Joni Mitchell one after the other. A bit of nostalgia? Perhaps age kicking in? Well, I can tell you it certainly hasn't been an easy week. And I take refuge in memories - my safe haven in troubled times.

I love Joni Mitchell's Big Yellow Taxi. To be honest, I love all her music. And a true Canuck! There are many other covers of this song, the most recent one being by Counting Crows, I think. But you just can't beat the original.

"I wrote 'Big Yellow Taxi' on my first trip to Hawaii. I took a taxi to the hotel and when I woke up the next morning, I threw back the curtains and saw these beautiful green mountains in the distance. Then, I looked down and there was a parking lot as far as the eye could see, and it broke my heart... this blight on paradise. That's when I sat down and wrote the song."

http://archive.southcoasttoday.com/daily/12-96/12-07-96/b01ae065.htm

PostSecret

PostSecret

But I'm not 40 yet!

Wednesday Words

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too,

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,

If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

And now it's time for some Irn Bru!

A good egg is hard to find

When a glowing 39-year-old Jennifer Lopez appeared in People magazine in March with her new twins, insisting that they had been conceived naturally, she was just the latest in a string of high-profile fortyish Hollywood women to pop out multiple babies.

In 2007, at the age of 45, Desperate Housewives’ Marcia Cross delivered a pair of daughters. That same year, Nancy Grace, host of an eponymous tabloid legal-analysis program on CNN, announced she was pregnant with twins—at the age of 47.

These stories may make for good gossip fodder, but for Beverly Hanck, executive director of the Infertility Awareness Association of Canada, which is organizing a cross-country Infertility Awareness Week May 18 to 24, they are a slap in the face.

“I think it’s nonsense to lead people to believe that these women are conceiving naturally,” she says. “It’s safe to say that anyone over 40, in all likelihood, is using donor eggs.…They are only having children because they are, in most cases, using donor gametes. And what’s more, they are spending a fortune to realize their dreams late in life.”

http://www.straight.com/article-145554/a-good-egg-hard-find

Friday Flower

The Little Old Lady in Lavender Silk

Dorothy Parker

I was seventy-seven, come August,

I shall shortly be losing my bloom;

I've experienced zephyr and raw gust

And (symbolical) flood and simoom.

When you come to this time of abatement,

To this passing from Summer to Fall,

It is manners to issue a statement

As to what you got out of it all.

So I'll say, though reflection unnerves me

And pronouncements I dodge as I can,

That I think (if my memory serves me)

There was nothing more fun than a man!

In my youth, when the crescent was too wan

To embarrass with beams from above,

By the aid of some local Don Juan

I fell into the habit of love.

And I learned how to kiss and be merry- an

Education left better unsung.

My neglect of the waters Pierian

Was a scandal, when Grandma was young.

Though the shabby unbalanced the splendid,

And the bitter outmeasured the sweet,

I should certainly do as I then did,

Were I given the chance to repeat.

For contrition is hollow and wraithful,

And regret is no part of my plan,

And I think (if my memory's faithful)

There was nothing more fun than a man!

Lavender Blue - Burl Ives

Dilly, dilly indeed!

Monday Memory

I must have been born wearing sneakers. My mom had a hard time dealing with me as a kid. I absolutely refused to wear anything girlie - I was too much of a tomboy. And now that I'm on the road to 40, I decided to get myself a new pair of sneakers. And yes, a pair of genuine "All Stars". Boy, did I ever impress my teenage students. I feel really hip when I walk into class now.

Border crossing

I've just very recently realised that I've overcome infertility. I'm on the other side. It's taken me over 7 years to reach to this conclusion. Ok, I've been told before that I'm a little slow at times.

After having my son, I gave myself a limit in case I ever considered another spin of the IVF wheel. 35 was it, because I wouldn't be able to face all that worrying about the quality of my eggs and possible abnormalities. When I hit 35, I decided to give myself an extension to the deadline considering all the advances in prenatal care and diagnosis. So the new limit became 40.

And here I am about to reach the border at interstate 40 and realising that this is it. To be honest, I feel that I've already crossed the border and....I'm free!!!! And it's a wonderful, exhilirating feeling! I'm not one to brag, but if I do say so myself, I feel like I've done damn good job of surviving infertility. There's no boogie man for me anymore!

So I'm starting to look forward to my 40th birthday (hold on, still 6 months to go). I still feel kind of beautiful & sexy, albeit the puffy eyes and runny nose. And I'm going to have a huge birthday bash to celebrate the crossing of the border. Infertility sucks, but f****** hell I made it to other side!!! That's somethin well worth celebrating.

Under the Weather

Ok, here we go. I feel 40 starting to kick in. My immune is system is down and, with the little guy bringing home all those bugs & germs, I've been diagnosed with a throat infection that has spread to my glands. My voice has gone, I've got the chills and feel like I've been run over by a truck. For someone who is not used to being sick, this is a major setback. My guys here at home are having a harder time dealing with this because they don't have me to fuss over them and are not quite the experts on fussing over others. This should teach them to appreciate me a little more.

So, I'm on an antibiotic, anti-inflammatory and hot chicken soup. Bedrest is definitely not my cup of tea, so I'm curled up on the sofa with my laptop, trying to catch up on some work and debating over whether or not to go to work tomorrow.

Update (10:40pm) - Spent the day trying to decide "Stay home? Go to work?". I've never taken sick leave for myself in the 10 years I've worked in this school, except when the little guy is ill. Only took time off (& not as much as I could have) when I was undergoing IVF treatments. And managed to get through my pregnancy without missing a day's work. My husband says I'm so weird. Who in the world would spend a day dwelling over the idea of missing work to recover from the flu? I've decided to stay home tomorrow, but I have a feeling that come tomorrow morning I'll be changing my mind. I absolutely hate the idea that they'll have to arrange cover for my classes tomorrow.

The road ahead

Now, that's my idea of old age. Something to look forward to.

Friday Flower

Blue Hydrangeas

Like the last green in the palette's colors

These leaves are without luster, rough and dry

Under umbeled flowers that were duller

But for a blue reflected from the sky

They mirror it, exhausted as with tears,

Vaguely, as if not wishing it to stay;

As old blue letter-paper which the years

Have touched with yellow, violet, and gray;

Washed-out like a child's apron, no more used-

Nothing else can happen to it now:

One feels how short the little life has been.

But suddenly the blue seems to renew

Itself in one last cluster-and see how

The pathetic blue rejoices in the green.

Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by C.F. MacIntyre

"Hydrangeas, we are expected to know, blossom in different colors, according to the chemical makeup of their soil. An acid soil, somewhat rare, produces blue or violet blooms, while a base soil gives rise to the more common pink varieties. Like many such flowers, they bloom in the late summer and fall, and although they go dormant and appear dead in the winter, they are perennials and develop fresh leaves in the spring. In addition, the blooms can either be sterile or fertile: the ones in Rilke's poem, described as forming an umbel, are most likely sterile; fertile blossoms are much smaller, less petal-like, and form a cluster rather than an umbel. Most importantly for Rilke is the process of colorization and aging in the hydrangea: the color, whether pink or blue, does not set in immediately: new blossoms are green, and the color gradually progresses from the outside edge. After a week or two, the color then fades to a washed-out gray, exactly as Rilke describes, and the green leaves of a new bloom are evident underneath the old. What we see in the poem, then, is this precise moment: the blue colorization has faded, and the flower appears to be dying; only on closer inspection can we peer between the dead leaves to see the new growth underneath."

Rilke's "Blaue Hortensie" -- Cycling into the Eternal

Stormy Weather Ahead

Ok, here's the situation. I know I've been going on about my pre-mid-life crisis when I hit 40, but that's not for a while yet. It's just me prepping myself up for the blow. Before that I have another storm to deal with. My husband's turning 50 on Wednesday and, by the looks of things, we're headed for some rocky waters.

Age has always been a delicate thing for him. When we first met he lied to me about his age. Talk about vanity! I guess in his head a 20-year-old "schoolgirl" (moi, in case you hadn't made the connection) wouldn't be interested in dating an older guy. Man, do they have it wrong! Little did he know that it was precisely his slightly greying hair and grown-up talk that attracted me to him in the first place.

So, to play it safe we usually lay off the topic of age here at home. The other day I actually made the stupid mistake of suggesting getting this new anti-wrinkles facial cream for men. He just glared at me and I got the message loud & clear. But 50 is an important milestone worth celebrating and he's going to have to get down to some serious partying, whether he likes or not (which he probably won't). Today I brought up the subject, just to test the waters, and he was actually warming up to the idea of a small b-day bash (our ideas of "small" are so different, so he doesn't actually know what's coming), when our son spoiled it all. There we were on the porch, soaking up the sun while discussing his birthday, when all of a sudden the little guy shouted across the street to the neighbour "Hey, guess what! My dad's turning 50 on Wednesday!" Shit! I took one look at my husband's blank expression. Utter silence! Then he said, "I think I'll take a raincheck. We'll do the celebrating when I retire".

But, I have my heart set on doing something, so from now until Wednesday I'll have to rely on my ingenuity to whip up a way to have this party, without risking a divorce while I'm at it.

Just a day in the life of Raggedy Ann.

PS: That's a picture of the Toronto skyline. Reminds me of those magical summer storms. But those hit without a warning. Not the case here - I know exactly what I'm headed for.