Staying Alight in the Dark Days

As a young girl in the 1970s I had no desire to be in Ice Capades nor was I into ice skating at the rink, however, when I sat down in the hair dresser’s chair around age nine I told her that I wanted a Dorothy Hamill haircut*. I felt so edgy with my new do, especially when wearing my “Buffalo” shoes and my newly pierced ears!

Anyway, when we had an early morning ice storm a little over two weeks ago I had an appointment for my routine mammogram. This was shortly after having numerous jabs over a period of a few weeks as well as my annual eye dilation to check the spot in the back of my eye that hopefully won’t ever turn into cancer. Wayne had driven me to my appointment and we made it there and back safely. I was so elated about the fact that my mammogram didn’t hurt at all. I turned to Wayne before I got out of the car and said smiling: “I’m done being poked and prodded! ” It was a great feeling.  “I’ll go check the mail.” Likely beaming, I stepped out of the car in my non-edgy Timberland boots, and, feeling like I was walking on air, was briskly and harshly schooled.

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2020

I’m smiling in this photo I just snapped because it feels good to do it since I haven’t been doing it enough lately! 

I learned in the past month that I have something called hypercalcemia and most likely have hyperparathyroidism based upon my calcium and PTH (parathyroid hormone) levels on two different blood draws. As I mentioned on my Instagram yesterday I’ve had numerous blood tests done in the past few weeks, will be doing a 24 hour calcium test next but then have to wait until mid-March for my endocrinology appointment (we have an endocrinologist shortage here in Maine, apparently) to have further testing, diagnosing and possible referral for surgery.

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And now a word from my blog sponsor, Informed Bliss

Sometimes I can’t contain my joy for living in such a beautiful place, but really, why would I want to? Is it because we’re trained to think that happiness springs from ignorance, so that only simple-minded people are content? Or is informed bliss (the name of my first blog in 2001) in a world filled with sadness and tragedy along with comfort, kindness and connection a real possibility?

YES! Yes it is!

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Going Gray, Staying True to Myself

Heads up! This isn’t a judgement about men and women who choose to color their gray. It’s about my choice to let my hair “betray” my age. I wish that it was a simple decision but the pressure to pretend that we’re immune to looking a day over 30 is immense. I’ve shared that Barbara Bush was a silver hair inspiration for me. Then, this summer, I had been eyeing the silver hair of a very stylish, elegant lady who attends my church. I finally approached her and let her know how much I loved it! Her response? “Thanks! And it’s so cheap to maintain!” I laughed because that’s some good old New England thrift right there, not to mention self-confidence!

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Read My 1950s Diet Book for Free!

Did you know that the impetus for writing American Women Didn’t Get Fat in the 1950s in 2013 was the book French Women Don’t Get Fat? History shows that the American diet offered great examples of how we used to eat and enjoy our food in absence of the obesity epidemic we have today. For a limited time you can read my book American Women Didn’t Get Fat in the 1950s for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

I’ve kept my weight off since then and I’ve lost much more than weight as a result of changing my diet and mindset to a simpler, more old-fashioned way of eating! Here are a few things I “gave up” when I started moving more and eating healthy foods in moderation:

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Why I Socialize Off the Grid (Facebook)

About ten years ago when I first joined Facebook it was a rather quaint place that felt like a virtual town square. I reconnected with people from high school and New York City whom I hadn’t seen or spoken to since the 1980s. It was all “hey, what’s up!” and fluff.  But then more people started joining. Some of it was painful and triggering.

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Yesterday I Celebrated 25 Years of Sobriety!

I am truly blessed and humbled to have reached such a milestone. Wayne and I went out to dinner yesterday to mark the occasion. I have many things to share about my sober journey; so much so that I’m going to write a book. Yes, that’s now two books in the works! Additionally, the summers in Maine seemingly last only a New York minute and they are joyfully filled with outdoor pursuits and relaxation. For those reasons I haven’t the time to post here as much as I have the past two years, but I’m not going away! I’ll still be posting here, just with less frequency. I’m also actively updating my Instagram account since I find it quick and easy to do so when time is limited, so let’s stay connected!

Visit to Carlisle Academy Integrative Therapy & Sports

During coffee hour after church a few weeks ago I was speaking with Kate Chappell about her daughter, Sarah’s horse therapy farm in Lyman, Maine. Kate mentioned that one of the things the farm offers are programs for people with PTSD! I have often dreamed of one day operating a little animal therapy farm for traumatized youth so I was immediately fascinated. The offerings are extensive and include organizational/leadership development, team retreats, hippotherapy for people ages two and up with a diagnosed emotional, physical or cognitive disability and riding lessons to the general public.

Kate was so kind to arrange with Sarah (pictured above) an opportunity for me to visit the academy and share it with you here on my blog. My post is focused on the equine enrichment groups and working farmscape education tailored for at-risk youth and young adults, senior citizens, veterans and people in early recovery from addictions.

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Good News For Wounded Souls

“God will not look you over for Medals, Degrees or Diplomas, but for Scars!” -Elbert Hubbard, The Note Book of Elbert Hubbard

I’ve learned that time does NOT heal all wounds but God loves them and us! There can be beauty in a graceful brokenness when we use God as a crutch. But wait, isn’t needing a “crutch” a sign of weakness?! YES! Aren’t we weak when we’re left to only our own devices? I choose spiritual prowess over destructive earthly vices I’ve given up. I no longer feel ashamed about my scars, a shame which fueled a lot of my destructive crutches (smoking, drinking, overeating). I’m not ashamed to say I’m in recovery, my last drink being almost twenty-five years ago. I’m cool with not being cool. My deepest scars are invisible, although I do have, shall I say, an “oven kiss” on my hand I acquired while removing a lasagna from the oven last fall.

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A Degree of Mischief at University of Vermont

The college admissions scandal has highlighted what some have referred to as “affirmative action for the wealthy.” As I mention on my “about” page, I grew up in subsidized housing but went to an Upper East Side prep school with the aid of a scholarship. My freshman year of college was spent at Bennington College, also via scholarship. It was too painful for me to continue to be the kid from the wrong side of the tracks in places where the vast majority of students came from very wealthy homes.  It was then I decided to transfer to the University of Maine in Orono where I earned my B.A. in English.

I attended grad school at the University of Vermont where I lived in a tiny house in the woods complete with big spiders* (steel-toed Doc Martens are a form of organic pest control) and was fortunate to have been awarded an assistantship for two years which paid my tuition in full and gave me a small stipend. However, that also meant my days began at 5:00 a.m. and I didn’t get home sometimes until 10 at night. Even so, my most valuable life lesson learned wasn’t a part of my curriculum, but in a playground.

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