I made a solemn vow to my husband, the same you likely made on your wedding day. I, Mildred Townsend, take you James Walters, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part. 

We honor those vows daily. We've been through the "better and worse" part several times over the course of twenty-six years. We've even done the "richer and poorer."  But I think the most difficult is the "in sickness and in health" part.  You see folks manifest their illnesses in different ways.  Some people suffer in silence. Others moan and groan, giving voice to their pain.  My dear, wonderful, sweetest man on earth is the latter.

Today he had two teeth extracted  and was given gas for anesthesia.  As the dental assistant put him in the car, she had to remind him not to talk.  He did anyway, although his mouth was full of gauze. He mumbled something all the way home and became frustrated when I didn't answer. But I didn't answer because I knew he was under anesthesia and wouldn't remember any slight on my part.

We made it home and we worked together to get from the car and up the three steps from the garage to the house.  At times we took one step forward and two back, but we worked together and made it. 

The surgery assistant had told me that with the gas, he would be under for twenty-four hours.I put his cell phone on the bedside table and tiptoed out of the room, knowing that he was resting well. I settled on the sofa in the den and received the first of several phone calls. First, he was in pain and needed more medication.  "It's not ready yet," I explained that I had just called the pharmacy. When he called the third time, "I decided to go and wait for the medication." At least it would be peaceful in the waiting area at the store.  But, he called me there to ask what was taking so long.

When I returned home and had administered the medicine, he called again because he was hungry, After eating he called because he couldn't find his house shoes. The he calle because he needed something to drink other than water. And so on, well into evening. But after each request, he thanked me and told me how much he loves me. Was that the nitrous oxide talking?

I love my husband, I really do. And today I have had to remember all the loving things about him and the solemn vow I made.  In sickness and in health.  I wonder why sickness is said first?

Have you had a similar experience?  How does your spouse suffer?

Yesterday was Senior Citizens Day at Kroger.  I think the age varies by location, but in Nashville anyone 60+ receives a 10% discount.  Of course, I am too young for the discount, but because I am my husband's much younger trophy wife, I get in on his discount.    

Anyway, we are religious about shopping for  groceries on Senior Day.  It occurs on the first Wednesday every month.  Last month, in February, we were returning from Savannah on our special shopping day.  A long layover in Atlanta had delayed our return home. We were riding in the limousine to pick up our car, when I mentioned to my husband that we were running late for Senior Day. The limo driver immediately asked, "What is senior day?" I happily explained that we get a 10% discount, plus we usually have at least $10-$15 in coupons, reducing our bill further.  He didn't get it. He didn't feel my joy.

We were delayed in getting to the store yesterday.  Our church is reading The Purpose Driven Life and my husband and I made a commitment to participate.  So by the time we left church and made it to Kroger, it was 8:30.  We finally left the store at 10:30.  We got caught in line behind a little lady who was having difficulty unloading her cart to the conveyor belt.  I moved forward to unload her cart.  Yes, I wanted to be helpful and yes, I wanted her out of my way.

My assistants at work laugh about Senior Day. The say they never want to be there with all the old folk gathered in th aisles conversing and reading labels.  James and I are guilty of reading labels. We have to check for carbohydrates, fat,  and sodium. The old geezers do crowd the aisles, but when we go as late as we did tonight, they're all gone to bed.  Am I an old geezer?  Of course not.

But I am frugal. I'm frugal by nature. I love nice things and I love discounts. Going shopping on Senior Day is worth the effort.  Today we saved over $65.00. And since our children no longer live with us, we only shop once a month.  Well I've had my thrill for the month.  How are you saving money in these tough economic times? 

Now consider this from the Harvard Business Review:  Over the past few years, neuroscientists have begun to zero in on the brain's changes in middle age, and what they've found is encouraging. Results of long-term studies show that — contrary to stereotypes — we actually grow smarter in key areas in middle age which, with longer life spans, now stretches from our mid 40s to our mid to late 60s.  Read more  by clicking . . . "Brain Functions that Improve with Age."

In case you missed it on 60 Minutes, this is what Andy Rooney thinks about women over 50

 

60 Minutes Correspondent Andy Rooney (CBS)

 

As I grow in age, I value women over 50 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

 

 A woman over 50 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, 'What are you thinking?' She doesn't care what you think.

 

 If a woman over 50 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting.

 

 Women over 50 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it.

 

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.

 

Women get psychic as they age. You never have t o confess your sins to a woman over 50.

 

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 50 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

 

Older women are forthright and honest.. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk, if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

 

Yes, we praise women over 50 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 50, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.

 

For all those men who say, 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?Here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage.Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage!

 

Andy Rooney is a really smart guy!

Share this post with your fine, fun, fabulous, fancy-free female friends over 50, or Men who might appreciate it too. 

On V day, my honey and I celebrate alone. We have been married twenty-six years now. We married almost as soon as we met. I knew within our second date that I wanted to spend my life with him. Yet we are as different as sardines and caviar. Sometimes I am the caviar and sometimes he is. But we're never the same.<< MORE >>

When I was a kid, popcorn was a regular snack at our house. There were seven kids in the family and a consideration for any treat was expense. Popcorn was usually popped in a large dutch oven that we also cooked beans in. After it was popped, each child was given a brown paper bag that we also used for school lunches. The bags were filled and we went to the living room to eat the popped corn and watch TV together.

One day a commercial for an innovation new method for cooking popcorn was shown.  It was for Jiffy Pop.  Exactly how long is a jiffy anyway?  The speed of the new product could not have been the attraction. Our old method of popping popcorn only took a few minutes.

Was the new method as revolutionary and convenient as the TV commercials claimed?  The new invention also promised speedy clean up. Our brown paper bags were disposable. How much convenient could that be? We threw the bags in the trash can and voila, the kitchen was clean. Someone, of course, had to wash one pot.  But we could pop large quantities at a time. The new Jiffy Pop was one-person servings.  That was inconvenient when we were all watching the same TV show and waiting for our popcorn before the next show began.

Now expense was another question. A big bag of popcorn was about fifty cents and provided snacks for a large family for weeks. Jiffy Pop . . . well, it cost a whole lot more.

Jiffy Pop never was as popular as the brand had hoped. Microwaves came along pretty quickly after Jiffy Pop and it was a lot simpler. We didn't have the risk of getting burned. However, the comparative expense remains high. I guess for most of us, the expense is worth the convenience.

When I think about Jiffy Pop, I am reminded that we have to make individual judgements about how much we are willing to pay for convenience. Just because a product is new, does not mean it is better.

As we age, we take more medications. My doctor recently prescribed a cholestrol medication for me. There was no generic substitute for it and my co-pay for brand names is $65.00.  I read in AARP magazine that newer medications are not always better than an older one. I asked my doctor if a generic substitute would be as effective and she agreed it would be.  My cholestrol is still under control. Just because a product is new, does not mean it is better.

We can no longer hide the truth; it is evident. We bragged about our children and put their every achievement in the Family Newsletter. When our daughter started walking, we bragged that she was more graceful and balanced than any other one year-old baby.

We put them in soccer, volleyball, basketball, and track. Our daughter even went to ballet, tap, and dance for a year. The recital was so beautiful. They had tutors and went to special camps. When our son fell behind in his studies, we sent him to a private school in the mountains for the summer so that he could learn new study techniques. Rene went to an engineering camp every summer for five years. When James II turned 12 he was a volunteer at the Science Museum. We thought we had them on the path for success.

Neither child wanted to attend college. Considering their high school accomplishments (or lack thereof) we agreed that college would be a waste of time. It would be best if they could find jobs that would allow them to support themselves. First we watched James II go out and try to make it; then, our daughter Rene followed in his footsteps. They didn't realize how hard it would be to pay rent with minimum wage incomes. But they told us one time too many that they were grown and for us to leave them alone. So we've followed their rules. We're not helicopter parents by any means. We keep our distance. I'd rather bite off my tongue then to give advice. We invite them over for a meal from time to time, but we try to limit the meddling.

We only answer the questions that we are asked. So, why is it that they only call on us when money is involved. We've bailed them out with money to buy clothes, to pay rent, even to buy groceries. This morning my husband received a text from out son, "About to be evicted. Must be out of apt by 15th."

What are our options? Give him money, yet again, to pay his rent? Invite him to move back in with us? Neither option is to my liking. Unlike many baby boomer parents, we love being empty nesters. In fact, we have a rule that once the adult children moves out, their room is converted and the bed is moved out, too. They cannot return to their home of origin. Are we strange? Should we give these young adults a helping hand? We know the economy is bad, but conditions are never optimal. Is it the way of the world that you have to struggle to make it on your own? What happen if we don't help?

My husband went to the doctor yesterday and came home smilling with a goody bag in his hands. The doctor had given him a sample of the little blue pill and a gel to increase his testosterone level. I was somewhat ambivalent about his booty.  You see, I had been kind of relieved that his sexual abilities were declining with my decreasing desire. I actually  felt like we were intimate enough. It wasn't like it was when we were newlyweds 27 years ago, but it was sufficient for me. I thought he was okay with our new schedule. Obviously, he wasn't. Now I've got to focus on getting it (my desire) up more than once a week.  I know--I know-- if you don't use it you lose it. But I still think the doctor should have consulted my before she gave him the goody bag. Now he's chasing me through the house again-- and that's with one application of the gel and one pill.  Gotta go, he's coming at me again.

When my husband and I were first married, one of my friends asked me why I wanted to marry someone so much older.  She ventured I must have had unresolved issues with my father or I was looking for a father figure. Her husband was four years younger. I'm not sure if they're still together. We lost contact years ago when we moved away from St. Louis.

I had never thought much about my husband's age.  He is only seven and one-half years older. At the time we married, I was thirty and he was thirty-seven. That didn't seem like such a big gap.  In my experience, women are usually more mature than men regardless of the age difference. Besides, I've always been a pretty serious person. Sure, I like to play and have fun, but I'm also all about business. I'm focused on goals and like to get things done. My husband shares those traits.

But now that I'm 56 and he's 63 I'm once again reminded of our age difference. He retired in May and I'm still getting up going to work every morning.  I've taken a few days off from work, beginning last Tuesday and I'm getting a good taste of what retirement feels like. I don't think I'll ever stop working completely, that's not my intent. But, I would enjoy a little flexibility.

So I think, if I had a younger husband, he'd go to work long after I've retired. He'd be young and energetic, taking out the trash, painting the kitchen, and doing lawn work. Then I realize, that's not why cougar hunt for cubs, now is it?

For now, I'll settle for my old man. He wakes up with me in the morning and cheers me on as I do my workout and prepare my tea before I leave for work. He's all right.

I noticed the wrinkles a while back. I thought maybe I'd been in the sun too long or something simple like that. Then the lines beginning on either side of my bottom lip that descend to my chin deepened. When I looked in the mirror, I thought about Howdy Doody.  Would my mouth suddenly fly open without my control, as if someone had a hand up my butt? 

The wrinkles around my neck would come and go. If I remembered to moisturize, they wouldn't be so bad. But I took if for granted that with my dark pigmentation I didn't have to worry about wrinkles. None of my older sisters have wrinkles nor do they have any particular skin care routine. Why am I wrinkling so badly?

What is wrong with my skin? Maybe it's a disease. I went to the dermatologist.  She was diplomatic. She didn't remind me that I'm over 50 and this is to be expected. She tactfully suggested that I need to hydrate more.  So now, added to my bedtime routine is more skin hydration from my head to my each of my wrinkled little toes.