Tag Archives: Middle age

Another One Bites the Dust

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File this under ‘how to save money so you can buy a boat’, ‘downsizing’, or ‘preparing to cruise’, whichever you prefer. Mike and I are trying to live more frugally lately and this means that at times we have to make choices. Suffice to say I ran smack up against my definition of self, otherwise known as ‘ego’, this week. Turns out this whole idea of saving money is making me a pretty cheap date.

Recently 3 seemingly unrelated things happened: We sold my Mazda van, and our daughter moved to an apartment in Seattle, on her own once more. She left her 1994 Toyota Camry behind forever, sitting in our driveway. Then our son came home for the summer. I had been driving his cute little Toyota Matrix, a car both versatile and attractive. Astute readers will see the handwriting on this wall by now.

This is what I usually drive. Cute, versatile.

When a son returns home for the summer, he wants his car and because the car belongs to him (and I promised he could have it back) I am currently without vehicle. I need to get to work. We considered our options, including riding the bus (but I have to find a way to the bus stop) and buying a scooter to be ridden in the summer. Cute, but not very versatile. Trouble is, we don’t want to replace one vehicle with another. That’s not part of our plan.

“But wait!”, you may think. “Don’t you have the old Camry?”. Oh. Yes. We. Do. Let me tell you about this car. We bought it for $5000 when our daughter was a Junior in highschool. She has driven it for 10 years. Driven it only. Not actually cared for it. It has 270,000 miles on it (Long live Toyota!). It has had several minor skirmishes with various fences, gates, and other vehicles and apparently we don’t believe in spending money fixing cosmetic things on old cars.  Think of the damage as war wounds. The windshield is cracked, the doors don’t lock properly, the windows will roll down but then won’t roll up, steering is decidedly wavy, the dashboard is cracked, and it leaks like a sieve… as in there was a small lake on the passenger’s side of the car and Mike actually found large mushrooms growing in the back. I am not making this up.

The Camry was a fine looking automobile. That's past tense.

 

Understand, we have never driven new cars, believing a new car to be a profound waste of money. We do not even drive late model cars, as a general rule. We pretty much see cars as a means of transportation. We like them reliable, safe, inexpensive, and fuel efficient. So we don’t really think of cars as being reflections of our true selves, but there’s a limit and I thought I’d reached it when faced with this transportation issue.

I contemplated driving the Camry. Mike had spent considerable time and energy drying it out and cleaning it up. But still, it’s a car from 1994. I don’t even remember that long ago. I don’t think Andrew even existed yet.  I thought about clients and colleagues sizing me up as I pulled into the parking lot in this ‘vehicle’. I thought about the fact that as a middle aged woman, I am already part of a segment of the population that people don’t take very seriously, as though my usefulness as a human being is nearing its expiration date. (If you think this isn’t true, you are either not a middle aged woman, you are not paying attention, or both.) In short I was thinking, ‘What will people think of me?’. I ran smack up against ego, once more! Damn! Will it never end? Where is the part of me that gives less than a rat’s ass about the judgments of others? I know she’s around here somewhere…

I contemplated driving the car to the park and ride, taking the bus to work. It would actually be fine as it stops just a few blocks from my office and I would enjoy the walk. That was the plan for today.

Then I found myself driving to the park and ride in pouring rain, without an umbrella. I would get soaked walking the few blocks to my office. Unacceptable. So I drove to work. And you know what? It wasn’t bad. I studiously ignored any looks from other drivers. Maybe there weren’t any. I’ll never know. There is a sunroof and great visability in that car; much better visability than the Matrix. And the sound system is terrific! I pulled into the parking lot with my hearing aids vibrating to ‘Another One Bites the Dust’.

Can I allow my self-imposed persona of the professional woman who drives above-average looking, versatile cars give way to the part of me that wants to be frugal for the sake of living the rest of our lives on our own terms? Yep. I can. I’ve always been a bit of a rule breaker, even when I’ve made the rules myself. Another one bites the dust, indeed!

My new ride!

 

Nine Out of Twelve Women Agree…

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… That most men are lousy when it comes to using sunscreen.

Except for this guy. He uses it all the time.

During our recent foray to the wilds of Bainbridge Island and Poulsbo Mike and I had a little ‘discussion’ about the use of protection… sun protection that is.  Not that we see the sun on a regular basis around here. We should probably call the stuff ‘UV Rays protection’ because whether you have cloud cover or not, those UV rays are just hammering the skin doing their best to cause wrinkles. Oh, and skin cancer. That, too. I try to be really aware of it, especially the wrinkle part because since I was a lifeguard every summer for many years in my ignorant youth, I’ve already damaged my skin pretty badly. Ah, the 1970’s, the days before science took the joy out of laying out in the sun and getting blistered.

Regardless of the skin cancer risk, we’re in our 50’s now and I want both of us to preserve whatever semblance of unwrinkled complexion we have left. So I invest in large amounts of sunscreen. And even though Mike is a grown man who clearly knows how to take care of himself, this fact is only lately becoming evident in his skin protection routine. For years I’ve been the pestering wife, harping on him to slather on the cream, sometimes to the detriment of his delicate eyes. Lord, how he would whine about putting that stuff on. The looks I would get, looks that were completely wasted on me as I bought one kind after another until I found one he would wear without complaining.

Frankly I just could not understand why he resisted my efforts so much. Was it a control thing? Was it denial? I mean, I don’t have to tell him to brush his teeth, or take a bath, or shave, or any of the other many things grown people do without being told. He’s one of the most grown-up people I know.  Could it just be a ‘man’ thing? (I have to tread very, very carefully here lest I be accused of ‘stereotyping’ which, in the political correctness category, is identical to profiling.)

So we had our little ‘discussion’, very politely, of course, while sailing under leaden skies, on our way to the raft up with other cruisers. One of us (me) said we bet that when couples sailed together, it was mostly the wife who insisted on using sunscreen. I don’t remember who said it, probably me (yep). Words like ‘harp’ and ‘nag’ were thrown around without landing on any particular person. We agreed it would be fun to do a little research project to find out. And I thought the raft up would be a perfect place to do it. So I did.

The protection afforded by this life vest is not enough. There must be sunscreen on that tender face!

While we were all gathered for the hor d’oeuvres competition I did an informal poll of the women present. I asked the women who was most concerned about the use of sunscreen while out on the boat: the women, or their husbands (mates, ‘boyfriends’, partners…..whatever)? As the title says, 9 out of 12 women, which includes me, said it was the women who were most aware and concerned about it. Out of the three women who answered it was their husband who was most aware, one of those husbands has had skin cancer which was treated surgically. His awareness level skyrocketed after that.

I had to laugh as several of the women almost rolled their eyes at the question.   “He won’t use it even when I nag”, one woman said. “I’ve given up trying to get him to use it”, said another.  “I don’t even try anymore”. And those were the polite responses that did not include incredulous laughter.  And then there was the interesting gentleman who doesn’t use it himself, but he does remind his wife to wear her hat because he’s concerned for HER skin. You know what’s unfair about that? His skin looks great! How exactly does that happen? There are some things in life that are just not fair.

Mike, getting ‘the treatment’ from me. Photo is by Lee Youngblood. Thanks, Lee!

Apparently I am vindicated, based on the completely scientific and irrefutable methodology I used in this survey.*  I learned how to do this in college, where I majored in science.

No animals were harmed in this process, to my knowledge, and only a few men were insulted. I beg their pardon and remind them to use their sunscreen.

 

* Not really. I mean, yes, I am vindicated, but certain people who are sticklers for the scientific process might take umbrage with some of my conclusions.  I stand by them regardless of such umbrage because I was there and I recorded each answer on my scratch paper. Also, I counted all the answers personally and I’ve been able to count to 12 since I was 5 years old.

Oh, and also Mike is pretty good at using his sunscreen now. I hardly ever have to use it for him.

Midlife Girl’s Further Adventures, and Words of Wisdom*

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*Because life is too short to be bored.

Ballroom Ruin, with orbs.

Day two of our most recent Blanding adventure and I have more tips for you midlife rock climbers out there. Today we hiked the northern part of Butler Wash to the end of the wash. It’s about a 5 mile hike there and out with side trips to see ruins and climb around on rocks hoping to find more ruins and generally enjoying the scenery. This is a great time to hike Butler Wash because you don’t have to fight your way through a lot of vegetation in the wash. The reeds are just beginning to show their heads, and the willows are not leafed out yet. I’m imagining that in the summer this wash would be hot, humid, and sticky.

The first ruin we encountered is called Ballroom Cave and the reasons are obvious when you see how huge this cave is. There wasn’t a lot of opportunity to climb big rocks at this ruin, but the ruin itself is really cool. You’ll notice that in the photos of Ballroom cave there are a lot of orbs suddenly. Now, there are many opinions about what these orbs actually are. Many people think they represent dust in the atmosphere. That’s certainly possible inside this cave. Other people believe orbs in photos represent a kind of spiritual presence that shows up digitally. I don’t know. But they are only present in the photos taken in Ballroom Cave, so you be the judge. They do make a cool photo.

Part of the Ballroom Cave ruin.

You can see the size of this cave! That's Andrew in the far reaches, over by the bat guano.

We continued down the wash to find ruin number two, and here is where my ‘words of well-earned wisdom’ come into play. Ruin number two was way high up on a ledge, far above the floor of the wash. There would be climbing required.

Ruin number 2. From this perspective, it seems low. It isn't.

As usual, Andrew scouted ahead to find the best route. Determining that we would have to climb the huge slickrock in order to reach the first ledge, he went ahead of me. My first words of wisdom are: always take your almost-20 year old son with you. These sons come in very handy when scouting the most appropriate route up a rock. They also can give you a hand up when required. Especially when your midlife body is reeling from the previous day’s adventure, almost-20 year old sons are without equal in the usefulness department.

Here I am doing the 'Spider Monkey' up the slickrock to reach the first ledge. The cottonwoods below are probably 80 feet tall.

The ‘spider monkey’ posture is the most useful posture when scaling really steep rock. The proper method is to keep your center of gravity low and forward, keep your eyes on what you are doing, and don’t look down. Never, never look down. Look forward only, every few steps to make sure you are not going to land on a cactus. I am not in complete posture in this photo as the complete posture requires all four appendages be touching the ground. Vary this posture with the ‘four wheel drive’ and eventually you will reach the top. Once there you may give yourself permission to eat jerky and trail mix because you’ve earned it.

Andrew demonstrates his superior youthful abilities. Let's pretend that I went up the same way, okay? Excellent.

So eventually, I do reach the first ledge, only to be confronted with a completely vertical wall that required scaling in order to reach the ruin. I ask Andrew if it’s worth it. He says it’s worth it not to fail. I sigh, knowing I might regret this, but not wanting to live a boring life.

The wall of doom.

See that little U-shaped area in the wall? That’s the area we had to climb as it had the most possible footholds. There was a ton of loose sand in this area. The wall probably won’t be there 100 years from now as it’s just crumbling. But that part is only about 15 feet high. Andrew climbed up first, then I handed up my backpack and began my ascent. I figured that if I fell, it would be a controlled fall and I’d land on soft sand. I’d be bruised, but not dead.

But I didn’t fall. I used the ‘wall hugger’ technique and braced myself with knees and thighs, shimmying my way up until I was almost through the U shape. Then I had to turn and brace my back against the wall, pushing with my knees and feet until I could get my elbow over the ledge and grab a log that someone had thoughtfully placed just back from the opening, secured with two good rocks. I was feeling mighty successful.

And then I realized that I had left my camera in my back pocket.

My track record with digital cameras is abysmal. Two years ago I ruined my last good camera by rolling my kayak. And I was close to shore! It wasn’t even a good story! Just a stupid one.

So my words of wisdom for this day are: never shimmy up a crumbly sandstone wall, bracing your body weight against your rear end when you have your digital camera in your back pocket. I am not making this up. You should definitely not do this. It ruins your camera. By ‘ruin’ I mean that this causes the camera to not be able to work due to sand ground into the mechanism. Digital cameras do not like this very much. 🙁

We are in big cat country here. I'd love to see a mountain lion, as long as it was on one side of the wash and I was on the other. Lots and lots of big cat tracks, though. Pretty cool.