My "Do-Not" Lists

 

After age sixty, there were things I could still wear (but really shouldn't have):

 1. Skirts too tight or too short. Mini's were out. No-one's bumpy knees or calves knotted with varicose veins were attractive. Likewise, the rolls around my gut couldn't be hidden by anything tight-fitting unless it was a corset, which aren't produced anymore.

 2.  Plunging necklines. Wrinkled or leathery cleavage wasn't an asset.

 3.  Red dresses. I looked like a male cardinal on steroids.

 4.  Anything that had "pouf" in its name. Why did I want to look as though I had additional cellulite around my thighs or hips?

 5. Sleeveless tops, unless exercising. The flaccid "angel wings" hanging below my arms were hideous.

 6.  Pants with pleats around the waist - added ten pounds!

 7. Pencil-thin jeans. My muscular calves were bound so tight they cramped.

 8. Pants with wide cuffs. Heels got caught in them (who wants to tumble?) and they got filthy as soon as I sat down.

 9.  Heels that were pointy or over three inches high. My bunions screamed and the formerly dislocated disc in my back warned me, "You'll be in therapy again!"

10. Anything that didn't have an underwire in the bra (as in swimsuits). No such thing as perky, pointy boobs anymore!

After age seventy, there are things I THINK I'm ok with (but really am not):

 1.  Making an introduction. I may have no clue what my best friend's name is, even if I'm staring at her!

 2. Walking into a room without having written down why I'm entering. I may have to leave and re-enter to remember what I'm there for.

 3. Spending all morning looking for my glasses. They're usually on the top of my head.

 4. Eating anything with garlic. The reek lasts well beyond several applications of toothpaste and mouthwash.

 5. Removing my shoes for any reason in front of anyone but my husband. The bunions are grotesque! At least at the beach I can bury them in sand.

 6. Getting out on the dance floor to join twenty-somethings in their latest groove. Especially true for limbo contests! My body refuses to become a pretzel.

 7. Eating any food in any quantity. Ditto for liquor.

 8. Skipping the flu or Covid shots or forgetting to take my eight vitamins and cholesterol pill each night.

 9. Travelling alone. I'm not looking for any kind of adventure without a guide to rescue me.

10 . Signing up as a chaperone for a teenage grandchild's class trip. Child will never speak to me again.

11. Applying make-up that will cover blemishes and bruises. Must be scraped with a putty knife!

12. Applying mascara that looks like cat's whiskers except they've relocated around my eyes. Or wearing those old cat's-eye glasses!

13. Going through a buffet line more than once. There wouldn't be enough Tums in my nightstand to get me through the night.

14. Wearing stockings. They eventually sag around the ankles and they're sooo 70's.

15. Trying to copy Jennifer Aniston's waist-skimming or feathered hair styles. Ear-length is the asolute max that won't blow into my eyes (or glasses) and make me look like a wanna-be 60's hippie.

16. Attempting to set up anything electronic unless my grandchildren have already pre-programmed it.

17. Attending a grandchild's sporting event and cheering so loudly the opposite team turns to stare at the old lady, while my grandchild's team whispers behind their hands, "Is that your grandma?"

18. Trying to sleep through the night (unless you're a man). Herbal and green teas, sleep aids, reading till midnight, bathtub jets, bath oils, and sleep masks do not perform as advertised! 

Conference Detox

I've just returned from three days at the annual Florida Writer's Conference in Lake Mary, Florida. There were over four hundred of us, each hoping to unlock the secrets for publishing a best-seller.  I have an entire journal of notes.

There were three sessions each morning, starting at 8 a.m.  For each session we had a choice of several presentations by writers, marketing experts, financial experts, lawyers, publishers, agents, or screen writers. Fortunately there was a mid-morning break for some liquid and a cookie, granola bar, or yogurt.  I chose the cookie.

There were three sessions each afternoon, again with a choice of several presentations or panel discussions. During my mid-afternoon break I chose an ice cream on a stick.

There was a dinner each of the two evenings I attended, with a keynote speaker or awards.  Having walked for thirty minutes before each dinner, I felt righteous and ate a dessert at each - the carrot cake and chocolate mousse.  I managed to waddle into my book signing for ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS.

However, extra poundage wasn't the only thing I gained from this Conference.  The amount of information we gained was dizzying. Here are some of the presentations I attended:

"Sell Truckloads on Amazon"
"Change Your Characterizations through Syntax, Grammar, and Diction"
"What to Do and Not to Do in a Book Signing"
""Financials of Book Selling"
"Contracts and the Creative Process"
"How to Use Social Media to Sell Your Book"
"Using Writing Competitions to Advance Your Career"
"Book Trailers"
"Satisfying Endings."

With Margie Miklas
FWA Conference  Lake Mary, Fla.

In addition to seeing old friends from my critique group, I also made new friends - one in particular.  Her name is Margie Miklas, a recently-retired open-heart surgical nurse.  She won an award at the Conference for her memoir of travels through Italy (my favorite place in the world).  It's called MEMOIRS OF A SOLO TRAVELER: MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH ITALY, so check it out at www.margieinitaly.wordpress.com.

Now I've got to digest and absorb all the information. That goes for the food, too.

The Alien Baby

In a recent article in The Providence Journal titled, "Baby's Brains Rehearsing Speech" (July 28, 2004), Katherine Long reported that even seven-month-old babies are "mentally working out the mechanics of how to form words with their mouths, well before they're able to utter their first recognizable syllable."

The findings, published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, emphasize the importance of speaking to babies from the minute they're born.  They also reinforce a longstanding observation of scientists:  that babies get the most out of one-on-one human interactions, such as speech or games, which can't be replaced by high-tech toys.

Which led me to think about the comic genius our nation lost this week - Robin McLaurin Williams.

How did he learn to take our common language and reshape the sounds, mimic it, recreate its rhythms, or semantically take it on a flight to elongate a story?  Did his mother talk to her toddler in dialogue with different characters' voices?  Reported to be shy in high school, did he learn his rubbery versatility at Julliard or was he coiled with manic energy as a child?

His impersonations as sometimes troubled lunatics or offbeat authority figures showcased his gifts in movies like "Dead Poets Society," "The World According to Garp," "Good Will Hunting," and "Mrs. Doubtfire."  But the role I most remember was in "Good Morning Vietnam."  It was there his feverish free associations reigned supreme.

However his brain reshaped his mother's words into loose-knit spontaneity, he remained an alien we understood.  When he used pure sound in an octave higher (or lower) than his own speaking voice, somehow we understood (like a woodpecker's "rat-a-tat-tat-tat").  His imitation of dialects and his mumbled asides took us on free associations, but somehow we followed. His routines stretched stories out to the planets, then brought us back with a snap, like Mork's rainbow-colored suspenders.

Yet he remained an alien.  His ability to play disturbing characters ("Insomnia," "One Hour Photo"), gave his genius the freedom to expand and grow inside characters we couldn't like.  He was tormented with interior demons, we know, living in a universe most of us will never inhabit, like his disturbing characters.  But unlike them, he will always be loved.

If only we had a clue as to the sounds he heard as an infant, we might begin to understand the development of his creative powers. They might have been the same sounds we heard in his stand-up routines, sounds that, like his genius, couldn't be contained.

Robin McLaurin Williams   1951-2014

Charles J. Sykes, aka Bill Gates, Speaks to the Graduates

     In honor of those graduating in 2013, I'm summarizing some thoughts of Charles J. Sykes from his 2007 book, 50 Rules Kids Won't Learn in School.  These thoughts have been attributed incorrectly to Bill Gates, but according to Snopes.com, they are not the words of Bill Gates and he never gave this speech to Mt. Whitney High School, Visalia, California. This is in no way intended as a political statement, but is certainly food for thought.

Rule 1:  Life is not fair - get used to it.                                  

Rule 2 - The world won't care about your self-esteem.  The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3 - You will NOT make $40,000 a year right out of high school.  You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you EARN both.

Rule 4- If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule 5 - Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity.  Your grandparents had a different word for burger flipping - they called it opportunity.

Rule 6 - If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 7 - Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now.  They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes, and listening to you talk about how cool you are.  So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parents' generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 8 - Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has not.  In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as many times as you want to get the right answer.  This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule 9 - Life is not divided into semesters.  You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you find yourself.  Do that on your own time.

Rule 10 - Television is NOT real life.  In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 11 - Be nice to nerds.  Chances are you'll end up working for one.

CONGRATULATIONS!