All posts tagged middle-age

The journey thus far (or why I don’t want you to ask about the wax in the fridge)

Published September 25, 2015 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

As I mentioned, my normal days are rarely, well normal. I was anticipating today’s weirdness, but, to be honest, it didn’t start getting to my level of usual until noon.

The world gave me a calm start to the day. I woke up on time and well rested and actually ready for adventure. I left for my Gynecologist (ok, wince, if you want to, but I’m a middle aged female. yikes.) appointment with time to spare but turned the wrong way, not a problem, and had to park in the parking garage which was apparently the site of the all new reality show “Urban Chicken”. I survived the take no prisoners parking and still arrived in time.

I sailed into the office, got myself weighed, I’ve lost weight, hooray for me, then went exam. Blood pressure normal, plumbing working just fine. Doctor laughed when I answered “Are you sexually active?” with “Not so’s you’d notice.”  I love my doctor.

Everything went great,so I treated myself to pancakes and coffee on the way home. I had time for a quick lie down with my cat, as I was lulled by kitty purrs into a sense of warmth and contentment, my calm was jangled by my phone.

Here’s where it all went goofy.

My brother rattled my cage and told me that our meeting to plan my dad’s 70th birthday party was about two hours earlier than I orginally thought, meaning I will have to rush across town after a previous engagment, putting me into an already manic state before I get down to the business of planning an occasion with my family.   The cat got mad  because of the volume and tension of my voice. She stomped off, leaving footprints on my kidneys.

This is par for my course, so not  a big deal yet. I set off for my next appointment,a mammogram, with plenty of time to get there. I was about halfway across town when I realized I had left my purse at home. I turned around and found myself trapped between to giant Wide Load trucks, so I couldn’t get anywhere fast nor could I turn around again. Meanwhile I’m trying to call the mammography center to tell them  I’m running late. I finally get through to them and they tell me that it’s ok so come on down.

I hate being late so I’m almost frantic by the time I get there. I valet parked, much to the horror of the valets. (My car looks as almost as fantastic as my house.) Valet parked is a euphemism for threw my keys and got my stub and dashed inside.

I didn’t have to wait long and soon I was escorted back to the changing room where I was given my weird little half cape and told to strip just above the waist, and put my shirt and bra in one of the lockers. I was also told to keep my purse with me. (I find that odd, why would I need to secure my clothes, but shlep aroudn stuff that might actually get in the way. I didn’t ask because it’s hard to have any sense of reason when you are flopping around like the world’s worst super hero)

My mammographer had a very heavy Asian accent,but was brisk and efficient, even she was hard to understand. Plus, nothing will make you feel flabby like a sleek, tiny woman forcing your meaty bits in between two glass slides.  Even that didn’t throw me off too much.

I finally got home, and realized that I was pre-grumping because I let my brother wreck my pancake buzz.

So I thought I should get  ahead on my  prep for this evening, remember my class at the Upscale Adult Prodcut store? I found out the class was sold out and the area of town is quite up and coming and generally filled with the young and lovelies of the early twenties to mid-thirties set. Now, I’m not usually intimidated by people, but I generally feel squat and stumpy when herded into a group of people who are not of hearty peasant stock. Regardless of how they feel about me, I feel better about me if I have prepared myself with enough war paint to deter any battle.

I have had the need to wax my upper lip (They never tell you when you are young and have fair skin and dark hair that once you turn 30 you will have to keep one step ahead of that to avoid sudenly turning into Yosemite Sam.) for a few days, so I thought I would do it now so I if there is any redness it would be gone before I have to get ready.

I was trying to be super efficent as I heated the wax. I punched in 3 minutes on the ol microwave and began to load the dishwasher.  I forgot that 3 minutes was usually the total time, but that I check on the heating in thirty second increments.

When I removed the wax from the microwave, it was boiling, so I turned to stick it into the fridge. As I turned, I realized that container had also melted and that I was sprinkling my already disgusting floor with hot wax. I also splashed cooling wax all over the interior of the fridge.

I did salvage enough to defuzz my visage. Now I only have to disguise the mega-zit on my chin.

And they day aint even over yet.

Make some cents

Published July 16, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I love teaching and I love learning, so I am kicking myself for not having gotten my certification earlier in my career, like maybe when it started.  I somehow have managed to spend twenty years or so teaching part-time under the auspices of volunteering  with non-profit groups or being paid to substitute teach.

Now that I am middle-aged (Oh it burns, it burns!)  I have decided to actually act like a grown up and get certified already and support myself.  (I made this decision prior to what I can the Diaspora. For those of you who will look it up and know at least one person will, I know that my situation doesn’t technically meet the requirements, but being forcibly removed from your homeland fits the purpose.)

So here I am studying like a fiend to get ready for the TExEs. (For those of you trying to decode my location, that was a big hint.)  I am also applying for just about any job I for which I’m qualified. It averages out to one application every three days. This activity combined with studying and the crap-storm that is my life has caused me to have a tension headache swing by to visit my sinus cavity.  Sometimes the tension  will wander over to one side of my head. (My Amanda Friend suggested I lay with my head on that side so that gravity will pull it out of my head.  I’m kind of afraid to do this because I might lose something valuable.

As you might have noticed, I have a tendency to meander, both literally and figuratively. Somehow I manged to find my way into a curiosity about insane asylums.  I have no idea why. I do see some resonance between my physical and mental reality.

If you are aware of your sanity, does that make you insane? How long will I think about that until I feel my frontal lobe begin to unwind?

Probably a lot longer than you  would think . (Or would you?)