Raising the Fun Factor

Posted on March 26, 2011 by Judi

“How was your day?” I said to my mom the other evening after I arrived home from a very busy day at work.

“My day was very busy too,” said my mom, who is truly blossoming in her new assisted living residence.

“What were you so busy with?” I curiously replied.

“Oh, first I had breakfast. Then I went to exercise class at 10:00 a.m. Then I had lunch. In the afternoon we played word games. The kind of word games where you get a word and you have to make other smaller words out of the larger word,” said my mom. “The instructor said I did very well.” (My mom always completed the NY Times Sunday Crossword Puzzle when I was growing up, so it did not surprise me that she aced the word game.)

“What fun. What else did you do?” I said.

“Oh, Judi. Oh, Judi,” said my mom. “At 4:00 p.m. I watched the best Oprah show ever.”

“Really,” I said. ”Who was on Oprah?”

“Robert Redford and Barbara Streisand were on Oprah,” said my mom. ”It was so great that it almost brought tears to my eyes. Remember The Way We Were? Barbara sang the song. This was the first time Barbara and Robert appeared together in an interview. They also showed Barbara’s designer home in Malibu.”

“Wow,” I said to my mom. ”You did have a fun and fabulous day.”

“What did you do today?” said my mom.

“Oh, just another busy day at work,” I responded. ”Not as much fun as your day.”

I wondered as I hung up from the phone call with my mom, will I have to wait until I am almost 90 like my mom to raise the fun factor in my life? No, no, no, no. Absolutely not. I have to figure out a way to put more fun into each and every day to ensure that I make it to my 90′s.

Let’s see what should I do for fun? I know. I know. I know. I can go find that Oprah episode with Barbara Streisand and Robert Redford. It must be online somewhere. Ooh, ooh, here it is: Barbara and Robert. Ooh, ooh, ooh, it is great, just like my mom said.

Ooh, ooh, ooh. The Way We Were was and always will be one of my favorite movies. Ooh, ooh, ooh, I love the way Barbara and Robert are reminiscing about their days during the filming so many years ago. Ooh, ooh, ooh, I can’t wait until they show Barbara’s new designer home.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Bing, bang. Bang, bing. What’s happening? Is there a short in my computer? Now there’s darkness. Barbara and Robert and Oprah are gone. The person who posted the replay dropped her camera and the show is now over.

Well, at least I had a little bit of fun. Go Judi, go Judi, go Judi.

But, I need more fun, more fun, more fun in my life. Yes, I need a little bit of fun every day.

I must learn how to lighten up and have more fun.

I must learn from my inspiring mom.

I must also learn from my lucky son D, who is quite good at making sure he has a high fun quotient in his daily life. D is studying in Rome this semester while I am home in New Jersey having less fun.When I spoke to D yesterday, he shared all the fun he had just had during his spring break trip to Madrid and Spain.

Get ready D, D, D. Your sister and I will be visiting soon and we want to have lots of fun. Tell the gelato and pizza and pasta places to start cooking cause we’re coming. And make sure the weatherman calls for sunshine because we want to walk the parks and piazzas too.

Ooh, ooh, ooh. This weekend, I think I am going to have some fun and prepare for my upcoming Italian holiday by watching Roman Holiday. Ooh, ooh, ooh, I just love, love, love Audrey Hepburn.

Have any other tips on how I can raise the fun factor during my life after 50? Please send them along – all ideas are welcome. I have many more fun-filled hours and days to enjoy this year and hopefully many more fun-filled years to come.

LOL

Judi

Two Beds, Some Booze and A Pair of White Gloves

Posted on March 18, 2011 by Judi

By the time my sister N and I were done packing up my mom’s condo last weekend, about all that was left were the two beds that we were sleeping on and three bottles of booze (all unopened, including a bottle of whisky that was likely almost as old as I am).

It was a right of passage that many daughters and sons our age go through. Now that our mom is settled in an assisted living residence, it was time for my sister N and I to close up her condo for good.

“The Salvation Army is coming bright and early Saturday morning,” I said to my sister N, “time is of the essence.”

One by one, we cleaned out and emptied each drawer, each closet, each counter top and each cabinet in my mom’s Flo-ree-da condo. In less than 24 hours, the two of us scoured the place from top to bottom, putting clothes aside for donation, putting books in piles for the local libraries, and boxing up glasses and dishes that would go in the Salvation Army truck along with most of the furniture.

“Our mother is a hoarder,” I said to my sister. She shook her head in agreement, as did my mother who admitted to being a pack rat.

It’s amazing how much stuff a mother can accumulate over 89 years of life. It was hard to throw away some of the memories. It was like a game of “wonder what I’ll find when I open this closet or that drawer?”

In the nightstand were hundreds of birthday, Mother’s day, and holiday cards neatly displayed in a huge binder. I even found my birth announcement from 1958. Under the cards were hundreds of old pictures, many black and white from the various decades dating back to the early 1900′s, including pictures of my great grandmother and grandfather when they were in their teens. I packed all the pictures in a box and shipped them home – priceless memories that I will hand down to my children and that I hope my children will hand down to their children one day as they build their family tree.

In the closet was my mom’s original majong set. My sister and I reminisced about the days when mom played majong with her friends We loved when she would host the majong games at our home. We always knew there would be leftover treats after the ladies left for the evening. Bridge mix was my favorite leftover, especially the malted milk balls. Sometimes, I would go to sleep dreaming of majong voices “one crack, two bam, two bam, one crack.”

On the coffee table were dolls my mom collected. My old Lady Alexander doll was sitting pretty. She was my pal when I was growing up. I so enjoyed watching her pretty eyelashes that blinked when you picked her up. It was sad to see that her doll legs were broken, likely after many years of usage. In the trash bag she went.

“Look at this,” said my sister as she cleaned out the desk drawer, “I never knew mom was a poet.”

“I didn’t either,” I said. I took the pile and started to read each one. I carefully unfolded the papers as not to rip the words. They were neatly typed. Wow -o – wow. My mom was a poet. These poems are really good. Wow -o – wow. My mom was a poet and I didn’t know it. I smiled as I read the poem about the boys going off to World War II. I laughed at the poem about riding on the NYC subways. My mom certainly had a creative way with her rhymes and words. Wow -o – wow. My mom was a poet. How wonderful is that!

So, here dear friends, is one of my mom’s poems. She wrote it in the 1940′s, when ladies wore white gloves. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do:

A Pair of White Gloves

They’re not to hold, they’re not to wear,
They never get old or start to tear,
They’re never white, but always grey
You’ll see them any time of day

In trolley, bus or subway car,
At the Ritz or some cheap bar
On a working Miss, though her boss never pays her
On Sally Rand or on Miss Brenda Frazier

On hatless, thin girls, sweet and pretty
On short ones, tall ones, fat and witty

They’re right for tennis, right for dining
RIght for dancing or for pining
Right for slapping in the face
Right when in a tight embrace

They’re warm in winter, cool in summer,
Right on the wife of any plumber
They’ve been washed a hundred times
And been an aid in many crimes

They’re never white but always grey
I guess they were just born that way
They’re dearer to you than all other loves
These dirty pair of old white gloves.

Judi

The Empty Nester and Her Little Birdie

Posted on March 10, 2011 by Judi

This weekend we turn back the clocks. That means it will be lighter and brighter when I get home at night. That means that springtime will be here soon and summer will follow, quickly, I hope, I hope. I’m so ready to pack up the winter weather and pack up my winter clothes too.

It felt like spring as I walked into my daughter’s newly painted room tonight. Her room is a warm, creamy buttercup yellow. It screams sunshine. Her room is void of furniture now that she is no longer a permanent resident. I donated her old baby furniture before I moved. It is time to get her a big girl bed. She is about to turn 25.

It felt like a beautiful blue sky day as I walked into my son’s newly painted room. His room is a bold wedgewood blue color. Since I count him as an occasional visitor as well, I am using his room as my temporary home office until I paint and decorate my new home office in my loft area.

“How are you doing?” I said to my son last week on the phone. He is studying in Rome for the semester — such a lucky guy D is.

“I’m doing okay,” said D, “However, I’m concerned about the summer.”

“What’s the problem,” I cautiously replied. “I thought you were going to be in NYC for the summer – taking classes and working part-time.”

“That was the plan,” said D, “but the classes are so expensive. I don’t think I can afford to take summer classes in NYC. I think I may have to come home.”

I love my son. I love my empty nest.

“Really, come home?” I said.

I love my son. I love my empty nest and the fridge that has a limited supply of food. And I love the fact that I don’t have to go food shopping every week if I don’t want to.

“Yeah,” said D, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

I love my son. I love my empty nest and my single (with a boyfriend) lifestyle.

“Really, come home?” I said again.

I love my son. I love my empty nest. I love that I no longer have to rush home to make dinner for my anyone.

“Really, come home?” I said one more time.

I love my son. I love my empty nest. I love having a clean bathroom where I can enjoy a leisurely bath whenever I desire and where I can use the toilet without having to worry about falling in because a certain someone forgot to put the seat back down.

“Really, come home?” I said one last time.

I love my son. I love my empty nest. I like having electric bills that don’t make me cringe before I open them each month due to the extra costs from an extra someone who always leaves the lights on in every room he enters and exits.

I love my son. He will turn 21 years old this May.

Will this empty nester and her 21 year old son be able to peacefully co-exist in the same household again? Will she be able to relinquish her empty nest and allow a little birdie to creep back in for a four month stay?

Oh, the good ol’ summertime.

Judi

Oscar-itis

Posted on March 1, 2011 by Judi

I have Oscar-itis today (and a sore throat to go with it – but not caused by Oscar). No, I wasn’t raving or ranting this year about the dresses or the movies I wanted to win. I was proud of myself for having seen almost all of the movies nominated for best picture.

I do love to view the Oscars each year. I do love to watch what everyone is wearing and critique the dresses at what has become an annual ritual with my daughter A and my friend R. We sat and ate my homemade Shrimp Pad Thai at dinner as we watched all the stars walk the red carpet.

Which boomer women (and younger ones too) had used botox? Who had real boobs or fake ones? Did the stars look tired or well rested? Were their dresses appropriate for their figure and age? Were their hair and makeup appropo? It always so much fun to be a critic to the stars.

I was intrigued this week to learn that there is a graying audience returning to the movies. According to the New York Times article called “Graying Audience Returns to Movies, in Glasses That Aren’t 3-D,” the older moviegoing audience has begun to assert itself. The article’s authors Brooks and Michael say that “baby boomers were weaned on movies” but, they seem to have left the theaters during decades prior due to all the action and fantasy movies.

I’m glad the movie industry is trying to lure me back into their seats. I used to go to the movies all the time with my sister N. Back in our twenties, we used to wait on long lines in Manhattan to see the new Woody Allen movies the same day or close to the same day they were released. Annie Hall was my all-time favorite. And of course I dressed the part. I bought my chinos at the army/navy store and wore a used man tailored vest and button down shirt. I did not wear Annie’s hat. No hat for me. I didn’t like flat hair then and don’t like flat hair now.

Ah, the movies, the movies. While the younger audience like my millennial kids bought 32 percent of the movie tickets in North America last year, boomers like me bought less than a quarter of the tickets. However, Brooks and Michael say that “the actual number of older moviegoers has grown enormously since 1995, the year before boomers started hitting the midcentury mark. Then about 26.8 million people over the age of 50 went to the movies, according to GFK MRI. That number grew to 44.9 million in 2010.”

As we finished our Oscar evening and put our critical eyes to sleep, I started to wonder what new movies will be coming out that will target boomer women in the future. I heard that Barbara Streisand will be back on the big screen again sometime soon and Dame Judi Dench (my namesake Judi at age 77 is such a jewel of an actress) will be in a new movie called “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.”

Oscar night has inspired me to start to get the pedal to the medal and start to get my memoir in order.

“When I get up on stage to accept my Oscar for best picture, screenplay and costume design for my story ‘A Year To 50′,” I told my daughter A and friend R last night, “I will thank you both for supporting me through the years. And I will make sure the lights shine on both of you who will definitely be in the audience. Finally, we will be able to really walk the red carpet in Hollywood once and for all.”

Pleasant dreams.

Judi