Years going by…leaves turning…freezing already…

dscn0525Yes, I am ready to rent a shack in Florida or the Caribbean, but I must swallow my pride and bundle up…layers upon layers…

Now, back to the real deal…After you reach the sixth decade plus…what a difference does it make?  A whole lot!!

For once, the maintenance on the body and mind reaches an all time high.  Before I go to bed…it takes another 24 hours to get ready to just try to close my eyes…some nights I just wish the sunrise will happen right after I go to bed.

Cremes, potions, exercise, meditation, prayers, checking for old and new changes on the face, neck, body, etc.  I keep a record of ones getting deeper and the ones just peeking into the surface.  Kid you not!

Now I am super excited!  Bought some new décor for Christmas…can’t wait to get my tiny house even prettier.  Are you getting it or did it just hit you that I am making things as I go along…my life is pretty tame right now…learning to play the guitar, rehashing French, the language, asking permission from one leg to move the other, counting my gray hair…yes, it is super exciting!  I caved in today after the temperature inside the tiny castle hit 62…so I turned on the heat…more trivial stuff so the word counter feels good about doing its job.

Life as a blogger, a happinista, fashionista, writer, peacemaker, artist, photographer, and some other stuff I don’t remember right now,  keeps me super busy and super happy.  Remember, it is not the context that matter, it is how many more words I can squeeze into this space.  Enough!  Only 328 words.  Have mercy on my soul and my mind.

Have you ever read something so scattered all over the place before?  I must admit, it is pretty bad…but at least I am typing, producing some kind of heat for the fingers.

Thank you!

Me and my new pal…Andrew…my guitar…


This photo shoot session surely didn’t last long.  This temperamental model/artist was very impatient and short-tempered today.  Who knows what’s going on in her life.  She is supposed to be a happy contessa, but it seems not all is golden in Happyville.

Well, now I am back in the first person singular…I have a new pal, one that gives me another thing to do in my already busy life.  Already some of my fingers are becoming desensitized, meaning, I cannot feel certain area of them because I have been told I have to grow calluses on them.  Gross!  Can you imagine if I were to decide to get a boyfriend…If I were to give him massages, it would be like running sand paper down his back…But I want to learn to play the guitar, to sing one Spanish song that I just so love.  Maybe if I sing him the song while sanding him down, he won’t notice the pain.  Ay Dios, what imagination I have.

One day back in the 1990’s Ron, my husband and his son Kevin showed up at the house with this guitar that has been exclusively used for decoration since then.  I even bought a guitar stand.  They told me they bought it in a used stuff store, meaning, it was cheap and used.  But I love Andrew…that’s the name I have given to my pal, the guitar.

Now I am learning music, the brain has to coordinate between fingers, memory and execution.  Can I handle all of this at once?  It is like learning a new language, never mind I am learning German, Portuguese, French and some Italian.  One of these days my neurons are just going to go on strike…maybe I should take sign language also, just in case.  By December I should be able to play the jingle thing and sing it all at once.  In English and Spanish!

Frankly, I was getting tired of seeing my previous post, so I had to make this one up to change the scenery of the blog, just in case my international followers are wondering if I am still around.  Yes, I am still in circulation…wondering what new path to take right now in my life.

Life is short… really…so live hard and play loud!


Hipser…new word invented by me…seniors-don’t-wanna-be…that’s me…

DSCN0606Yep!  I have invented a new word…Hipser, seniors-don’t-wanna-be!  That,  in other words, is me.

Let me explain…there are categories of seniority…real seniors, seniors, seniors that wanna be, and seniors-don’t-wanna be.  No insult or demeaning to anyone who has achieved this milestone.  Some of us are already resting in peace.  Not a bad thing either.  Life is a catch-22…nothing is good and nothing is bad…it depends how you interpret things.

I went to an informational party put together by the city where I live, for senior citizens.  I was late because I had my exercise class.  I had about 15 minutes left, so there I went in my super cool outfit.  The ladies were focusing more on my shoe laces than anything else.  So…there was food to clog your arteries and send you into the ER in a second.  But who cares, enjoy the good stuff life has to offer, right?  Not me.  I was seeking information.  There was some music and as I said before, arteries clogging food.  I found a lady and finally got some information and on my way out, that’s when I came up with the word “Hipser.”  The fellow seniors in that meeting, a whole bunch of them…were in their late seventies and eighties.  I am this sixty’s babe…not a real senior yet.  Again…don’t mean to insult anyone.  A very dear friend, in her eighties, is one of my role models, so I do appreciate everyone.

There you have it, the birth of a new word and you have the privilege to be the first ones to be exposed to it.

Living my wonderful senior life one beautiful moment at a time.


The Nerve of that “Other” Woman…

DSCN0280Someone told me recently that after you hit 80’s, all is downhill from there on.  But I have my own hypothesis…”After I hit my 60’s, my whole world is always colliding with the parallel world that is in my mind.”  Let me prove this…

I was in a store looking for warmer clothing to prepare for my trip to the tundra country of North Carolina.  I passed by a mirror and suddenly this “other older, much older” woman is looking at me, with the same outfit I am wearing, same cute shoes and same hair style.  I move, she moves…it took me a few nanoseconds to realize that was….ME!  OMG!  What happened to the young-looking chick that left my house with me?  Was it the light in the store, an apparition, the other evil she that pretends to be me, or was it really me?  I left that store at the speed of a space shuttle, by the way…I thought those things retired…is the universe trying to tell me something?  I was so confused that my left part of the brain could not at all communicate with the right side, which is the one that tells me all the time that I am a super good-looking chick, well…besides some other little older fellows, but this is not the time to go into that right now.

I am trying to figure out what happened at that store…I felt like a French pile of you know what, felt also like a woman probably doomed for life.

I came home after buying some bread, which is my special treat when I am depressed, went immediately to the mirror that had told me that I looked super good before I left the condo, and saw another woman yet.  What’s going on here?  Then, my left side of the brain said to me…”it’s all about the lighting,  dummy”!  So, now I am very concerned, there is one of me with good lighting and another one of me with mediocre lighting.

This is becoming too hard to look good and young and then… the real me.  The real me is winning, because that picture that I took when I came back home, is not really the way the real me looks like.  It is all about the lighting!

I am so glad this is off my chest…I couldn’t take the pressure any longer.  Next step, let my gray hair show, maybe in 2040.  That’s the first step.

DSCN0281This is my tomato-avocado-carrot with lots of extra virgin olive oil and sea salt sandwich.  Had two of them…frankly, I should have purchased that tempting piece of cake.  I feel full, but…let me put it this way…it is like when you make love, but there is no fire works after the fact.  Tough business.  Hopefully no child is reading this post.  Hopefully also I did not offend anyone also.  People are so sensitive these days…

Another day in paradise while confronting my own aging beast.


Car Wash Nightmare…

DSCN0253This is what happens to me every time I go through the car wash.  To start with, I am a control freak, so putting the car in Neutral and letting go off the wheel is a real matter of trust moment.  I think that all hell is going to break loose.

Now, once the process has started, I am in a panic mode.  I imagine that some steel beam is going to make a hole through the windshield, all that soap and water and the heavy pieces of material that wash the car, are going to come through and leave me faceless.  This is really a moment of total surrender.  Today was no different.  I closed my eyes, which makes it worse because my imagination, and I have one that will break all the charts of taking off, starts working in overdrive.  Air conditioner is off, music is off, so it is only me, the sound of monsters getting ready to get into action, perspiration going everywhere, and car totally out of my control and I am at the mercy of someone’s computer machine.

But today, two days older than the six decades plus I just had, I developed the guts and became fearless and thought, what the heck, faceless or not, I am going to take a picture to illustrate to my worldwide audience that I am a woman with no fears whatsoever!  It only lasted a few seconds, because then I thought, yeah, that will be something for the blog, “Faceless woman found in flooded car with lots of soap trying to take a picture.”  See, I told you, I am really endowed or gifted in the imagination department.  Thank you God, but show me how to control it too.

Have sparkling looking car, ready for the daughter’s approval.  I am so excited to show her a very clean car and a mom with a face still in place.

Having my birthday cake, still, and eating it too!


Ashram ready…or maybe not…


I have to admit, before I start blabbing away, I don’t think there is another soul like me.  I really have an incredible imagination.

So, ok, something is happening during my meditation time in the mornings, before I have my breakfast.  Just after having water and coffee.  Maybe it is the coffee.  Too espresso like.

This morning my mind took off to India, the region south of Chennai, in Tamil Nadu.  Supposedly I am staying there for a week of mind cleansing and also the body, mind you and me.  Need lots and lots of cleansing.  Need to totally change my life around, but have no idea where the heck I should be heading.  So…after getting up at 5 am, half asleep yet, I head to the room where the meditation takes place.

There, very quietly, because I know how awkward I can be, I find a place to position myself in the Padmasana pose (Lotus pose).  As soon as my derriere hits the cold surface, I know this is going to be one unforgettable experience.  I have no derriere and my little bones are alerting me that they will not put up with this hard surface.  Never mind, I tell my monkey mind.  Then, as it is the case, most of the time in my life…a big humongous fly comes flying at supersonic speed around my nose.  What the…!  Not even in India I can have a moment of tranquility!  Needless to say, profanity is not allowed in meditation or anywhere close on these grounds.

Silence again… the superfly just disappeared from my life.  I can breathe better and concentrate in my mantra.  Which one again?  So hum it is.

Out of my left field, there comes not only the superfly (remember that movie?)…but her whole entourage.  They are only surrounding me with an infernal buzz.  What can I do?  I bathed, I am clean, so why the convention of flies around me?  Losing my pose, my calm and my good intentions of being a little bit holy, I start smacking back and forth around me, when then I noticed that insects probably are to be appreciated and allowed to do as they may, by the looks of the others towards me.

Or maybe it is that I don’t have any makeup at that time of the day and I look like the mother of all superflies?  That thought just hit me.  No mirrors around to double-check how I really look with nothing on my face to cover up the bride of Frankenstein look when I first look at myself on the mirror, mirror on the wall…which by the way, I have trained my mirror to tell me I am the most beautiful of them all.  It is that or seven years of bad luck.

Well, that did it for me! This meditation session is just a supersonic nightmare.  I am going back to Central Florida to my Queen Anne chair to meditate as I please.  Must admit, for the past few days, I have definitely not been successful.  Is it Mercury too close to Earth or just that I must change breakfast choices?

Life is very long when even your meditation time turns out into a gargantuan fiasco moment.



My experience while hiking the Himalayas…


There you have it!  I had this incredible experience while hiking the Himalayas in the cutest, very trendy and fashionable outerwear outfit.  Cute with kind of all colors, colors such as the ones you see while you are hiking Machu Pichu.  Those vivid and so bright colors of the Native Peruvians.  Lots of polka dots in my stockings.  Love polka dots.  But I was not at Machu Pichu, I was at the Himalayas.  Boots, hat, scarf, my Ray Ban sunglasses and full of energy, gusto and ready to conquer one of the top places in the whole wide world.  Mount Everest!

So I am with all these people from all over the planet, all of them very nice, amiable, kind, like the ones from the era, “Peace, Love,” if you know what I mean.  If you don’t know what I mean, well…that’s tough, because I don’t have the space and the time to go deep into it.  Use your very smart imagination.

Back to my hiking…there I am pulling myself up with a rope that I don’t have the foggiest idea who’s holding, maybe someone already at the top.  I made sure I had cute undies, in case the people below me were looking up.  I didn’t want to offend anyone with my all white gramma’s underwear.  Oopsie, getting too personal.

There I am…good hair day, the fresh air from that altitude, maybe 25,000 feet up, feels marvelous.  I am handling that rope like I am a total expert doing this.

Suddenly, and very suddenly…a mountain goat shows up from nowhere, the one with the arched horns, and his face is not at all friendly.  He is on top of a space in the mountain that I must conquer if I want to make it to the summit.  To the summit it is at all cost.  But, the mountain goat is facing me down like saying, what the heck do you think you are doing here with the cutest outfit ever to have graced this mountain.  He stared at me and started to bite on my rope…that’s when the situation went very sour…I thought, two things are going to happen here, one, I am going to make it to the summit, or there’s going to be a death splattered on the ground mountain goat.

My meditation time was up, so I must continue my hike tomorrow, or maybe leave the story hanging loose just as it is.  Don’t worry, the mountain goat survives, and I reach the summit with half of my undies shredded by the goat.  It was a sight to behold, me on that rope going as fast as I could, and the goat chewing as fast as he could.  We compromised halfway through and…pop, my oatmeal was ready.

It is so much fun being a writer.  I just write stuff.  That’s exactly it, just stuff.  Tomorrow I may decide to go to Atlantis the lost continent, or…