Aging




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" March 16, 2004 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com. Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart." You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. Do you have a heart-touching or inspiring story to share? Send it in the body of a plain email, no graphic or colorful backgrounds please. Write 'submission' in the subject line. Don't forget to write a brief bio to introduce yourself to our readers. You may include your family friendly websites, information on your books, newsletters, and upcoming projects. Email to: moderator@write2theheart.com. We always love to hear from new, first time writers. Now that I am flirting with fifty, I find that life offers so much humor. I don’t think I would have believed anyone who told me how much fun I would be having at this point in my life. You know what? I think things are only going to get better! All new subscribers will receive a free downloadable copy of the e-cookbook, "Write 2 the Heart of the Chocolate Lover." To subscribe, send a blank e-mail to: subscribe@write2theheart.com. Aging Gracefully By Cheryl Speir As a teen, I remember watching a commercial where a woman said she was planning to age gracefully. The sentiment caught my attention. That’s what I want to do I thought to myself, age gracefully. Well here I am, flirting with fifty and I wondering how it’s done. I thought aging would be a day-to-day progression. Instead I find that aging is like an animal, waiting in corners and pouncing on you when you least expect it! Ok, the first thing I thought I would do in my campaign to age gracefully would be to make sure I dress nicely. No muumuus for me, or all day in cotton robes. Sounds easy enough, but aging wants to make mincemeat of that decision. I get up and grab the pantyhose. When you’re young and lithe this comes so easy. When you reach middle age, this becomes a thirty-minute aerobic workout. After I have fought, twisted, and cajoled the nylon webs on, I can’t help but wonder which skinny queen, queen-size fits? I find after that workout, I need a shower. But I can’t, I find I have used thirty of the fifteen minutes I have allotted to this task. Besides, could you imagine trying to slide the hose back onto moist legs? Heading to the bathroom it’s time to gracefully apply my makeup. Putting Spackle on the wall would be easier. I put my glasses on to find out where to put the goo, and then take them off to apply the goo. Put the glasses on to see where it landed. I never seem to hit the same places twice. Take the glasses off to rearrange, then put them on to check again. Take the glasses off to wipe the excess makeup off of them. You know, if I take a course in how to be a hand model, I could at least take the glasses on and off gracefully. Now it’s time for hair. I have always been taught never to tease anyone or anything, so I will not start with my hair. I refuse to wear a hair helmet. I settle for a pulled back look-- as in severe bun. I go to the closet to take out my outfit. It’s color looks black in the closet. In the light of my bedroom it looks navy. In the light of the bathroom it looks black. I thought it was navy when I bought it. I need help or I will never know what shoes to wear with this. “Son,” I call out to my teen, “What color is this?” He pops his head out of his room and gives me his ’I’m so put upon’ look, says, “Checked,” and disappears back into his room. “It is,” I marvel, “what colors?” “Black and blue,” He calls out with a deeply agitated sigh. Ok, I’ll opt for the black heels. Putting them on, I wobble down the hall like a newborn colt. Once upon a time, I could walk with them across a balance beam, perform a cartwheel, dismount, and never stumble. There is one compensation in wearing wobbly heels; I fall into the arms of my husband as I round the corner. “You look nice,” he tells me. I feel like I have been handed a most wonderful complement, until I notice he’s not wearing his glasses. I guess all blurs look good. I really don’t mind being middle-aged. After all, if I’m middle-aged, that means I will live to be a hundred! That should give me just about enough time to get this graceful thing down pat. Cheryl Speir moderator@write2theheart.com You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com. I am owner and founder of Write 2 the Heart. I love crafting and tearing my house apart and trying to put it back together. I raised four sons who survived their weird mother, now have two of the most fabulous daughter-in-laws, and four of the best grandsons that ever wrapped a grandmother around their little fingers. I married my high school sweetheart thirty years ago and am now living “happily ever after.” Letters From Our Readers Ginger made me think how pruning can be painful. I know I don’t like having anything removed from my life. In my garden, it seems to go against nature to cut off healthy limbs from shrubs and trees. But I have learned that my life becomes more productive and so does my garden when it is done right. Kasey I too find that there are seasons in my life. The same challenges come again and again at the same time in my life each year. Thanks, I thought I was the only one. Lynn Russell Military Prayer Reminder As you read over this list of names, please take a moment to pray for these young people and their families: Chris Speir Tim Speir Alan Thaddeaus Howard Todd Holland Graham William Julie Sagel Jessie Marshal Thompson Jason Eric Hernandez Kristin Danielson Ken Prieur Ryan Jonathan P. Wells Larry Miele Daniel Amy John Joanne Please continue to pray for our country, our leaders, and our troops at this time. If you have loved ones in the military, or who are being called to go overseas, send their names (first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer reminder. Copyright © 2004, Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.