shoes

I bought these shoes at the Nordstrom half-yearly sale. I hadn’t planned on buying anything from the store, I was only there for one of their coffee drinks. As I was walking through the store, I saw the racks of shoes on sale, and I just had to play with the shoes! I say “play” because I have very narrow feet and can’t buy shoes in the store. I have to order my shoes online. Really not much fun, but when my packages arrive it feels like Christmas. I spotted this pair on the rack and decided to try them on. The shoes are a medium width, but they fit like some of my size narrow shoes. I think they are cute and flattering on my narrow feet and thin legs. Some sandals make my legs look even thinner! These look just right!

I remember when I was very young, my parents took me to a higher-end shoe store where I was fitted for my first narrow pair of shoes. I think I was 12 years old, but I can still remember exactly how those shoes looked and felt. They were a buttery black leather, soft little bow at the vamp, and a small, almost kitten heel, size 6 N. I loved those shoes. I felt so sophisticated whenever I wore those shoes. This was about the same time I discovered fashion and Coco Chanel. I used to imagine what my shoes would look like matched with Chanel’s famous quilted bag!

As I get closer to the big 6 – 0, I find myself obsessing a little too much about dressing “age-appropriately” – are my new sandals too young for me?!? I’m trying to be more like that 12 year old little girl who didn’t worry about whether those black little heels were too grown-up (they weren’t). To me they made me feel good and were the perfect pair of shoes!

Countdown and What I Wore Today

In exactly one month I will “celebrate” my 60th birthday. At this point, I’m not certain “celebrate” is the word I want to use. I have always loved celebrating my birthday. In fact, when my husband and I became empty-nesters, we started celebrating my birthday month! Everyday leading up to my birthday, my husband would bring me a gift. Nothing big or elaborate. Sometimes it might be the latest issue of People magazine, sometimes a Butterfinger candy bar. Things like that—simple, but things he knew I enjoyed.

This year, I have mixed feelings. Presently, our nest has another resident. Our daughter has been living with us for about a year. This isn’t a negative, in fact, I love her company! My father died in October and having my daughter home has helped me grieve. Once I started feeling better, I started traveling with my husband. He works as a consultant and is frequently on the road. Now when we travel, my dog gets to stay home with our daughter. My dog likes traveling and usually gets excited when she sees us pull out the suitcases, but as she has gotten older, there are days when she sees the suitcases, heads for her bed, and no amount of coaxing will get her to leave the house.

Maybe my mixed feelings come from the reflection in the mirror. As my birthday approaches, I’ve been researching botox, restylane, quiklifts—having given up on all the “magical” creams. Don’t get me wrong, I think those creams worked up to a certain point. So, do I resort to medical intervention? When I was in my 30′s I used to say that I would get “my first facelift” at 60! Now, I’m not so sure. I still don’t color my hair—it’s still it’s natural color. Maybe I would look better if I colored my hair, lifted the face, exercised more often! But, then I think—really? Would that really make me feel better?

I know I feel better when I am near my loved ones; my son, my daughter, my husband, and my sweet dog. My Dad won’t be here with me this year and maybe that’s the real reason I have mixed feelings about my birthday. Every year since I married, my parents phoned me on my birthday, at 7:15 a.m., the time I was born, to wish me a happy birthday. Even if I was spending the day with them, they phoned me. This will be my first birthday without a phone call from my Dad. Perhaps the best thing to do is enjoy my birthday as much as possible because that’s what my “Pops” would want me to do. So, in his honor, we will laugh, we will dance, and we will sing!

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Stages of Grieving

When I started my blog I thought it would be more upbeat but, with the death of my Dad, I find myself in the stages of grieving. I spent the afternoon at the mortuary sitting next to my Dad’s coffin. In a few days he will be driven to California for burial. That’s where he was born and raised and that’s where he asked to be buried. It’s odd sitting next to him; I swear I can see his eyelids flutter. He looks like he is sleeping, but without the look of pain or the occasional tear that would roll down his cheek.

My sadness comes in waves. It comes when I think of the times we spent with him at the hospital. Yet, those days were happy days! We thought he was getting stronger! My sadness comes when I try to remember the things he said to us, things that made us laugh. It had been so long since he could do more than mumble, but now he was completing sentences. Why didn’t I think to record him? I thought I could be strong, it’s what he would have wanted. But sadness surrounds me. I can’t believe my Dad, my hero, is gone.

I love you, Pops!

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My father….

My father died early this morning. I don’t understand what I am feeling. I don’t understand why I don’t feel sad. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my dad had been sick for a very long time. Four weeks ago he was in a rehabilitation hospital recovering from a wound on his heel. For three weeks, while he recovered, my daughter and I spent our evenings with him. We felt fortunate to sit with him, feed him, read to him, just being there with him.

When he was released from the hospital he seemed on the road to recovery. As we helped him into my car, my nephew asked him if he was ready to go home. My dad in his clearest, strongest voice responded “I’m ready!”. He hadn’t been that strong in a very long time. He went home on a Thursday, but just a few days later he was no longer eating, drinking water, or alert. Between Monday and Saturday, he went from home health care to hospice care. My two youngest brothers, who live out of state, joined us at our parent’s home. We knew my Dad’s time was short. During the time we had left with our dad, we did what we could to make him feel comfortable. To make him feel loved.

My father died peacefully this morning. Sweet dreams, dad.

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Blogging is hard!

When I first started thinking about recording each day leading up to the big 6-0, I thought it would be a breeze. At 59, how hard could it be to record my thoughts and observations? I thought it would be like when I was 12 and decided to keep a diary. There was always time to write before bed. But this time, I wouldn’t need to go out and look for a cute little diary, maybe with a picture of the Beatles on the cover, and, of course, the mandatory lock and key. I wouldn’t need to lock myself in my room while I poured out my triumphs and heartaches. This time I wouldn’t need to find a safe hiding place for my diary, a place where my three annoying brothers wouldn’t find it!

No, this time I would go 21st century. I could jot daily notes on my iPhone while enjoying a chai tea at Starbucks. I could start composing on my iPad while enjoying my favorite tv shows. And then before bed, I would whip out the day’s blog entry on my cute little laptop!

Turns out keeping a blog is hard. Suddenly it seems more important to use my iPhone to attempt to catch up on world events while waiting for my dinner at whatever convenient fast-food restaurant. My iPad sits in it’s case because I would rather read to my dozing Dad or listen to Big Band music with him while trying to ignore the noise outside his hospital room. And, by the time I get home at night, the time before bed seems meant to cuddle with my sweet black lab who has been home alone while I was keeping my Dad company.

At 12, keeping a diary was so simple! School, homework, dinner, family tv time, then it was Dear Diary time.
Today, with all the activities of the day, my greatest comforts come from the encouraging emails my loving son sends me, from the conversations with my Mom and brother when I arrive at my Dad’s hospital room as we joke about “the second shift is here”, from my daughter spending her evenings with me and my Dad, from the emails exchanged with my two youngest brothers who wish they could be here to help us with Dad, and from the support and love of my close friends.

At 59 years, 3 months, plus a few days, I may not have married Paul McCartney and it may be harder to keep a diary, but I smile knowing I’m surrounded by love!

Dedicated to you, Dad!

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Count Down to 6-0

The days leading up to my 59th birthday were filled with thoughts regarding where the years, days had gone! Thinking that in one more year, God willing, I will be 60 years old! Isn’t 60 supposed to be really old?!?! I don’t feel really old! I remember being 17, walking along Palm Canyon in Palm Springs with my boyfriend (now my husband of 40 years) and a Mercedes drove past us. I remember telling him “someday when I’m old I’m going to own a Mercedes!”

Well, I’m 59 years, 3 months, plus a few days old, and I still don’t own a Mercedes. Not because I can’t afford one. Although, it seems foolish to pay so much money for a car that would spend more time in a garage than on the road. But, in my mind, buying a Mercedes would be admitting I am old.

Where has the time gone? I don’t feel any older. I can still sit on the floor and get up without using my hands to lift myself up. I can walk for miles! Okay, maybe now when I go out dancing I can’t dance for 4 straight hours like I did when I was 19 or 35, but maybe that’s because we don’t go out dancing very often and I’m just out of practice! In my mind, I haven’t changed. Then I look in the mirror and I wonder when the lines on my face appeared. When did my jaw line start to sag? And, when, oh when did I start to struggle with weight gain?!?!

In less than 9 months, I will celebrate my 60th birthday. It’s odd to write that, let alone say it! I’ve started this blog to write about my age-related observations and to remind myself to truly experience and enjoy the journey! And so, my count down to 6-0 begins!

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