Category / Aging

August 31, 2017

Does driving make you anxious?

Photo by Mike Wilson on Unsplash

She is tall and willowy. To talk to her I look up towards the Colorado sun. She has a small dog and a small-ish kid with very blue eyes and I am asking her about my face. Generously she overlooks the enormous bloody scab that I have created trying to solve the problem of a clogged pore. Instead she looks as I trace my finger over the splotchy brown areas that caused Leo to ask if I were turning into a giraffe. “No” I told him “I would have to be a whole lot taller.” Today I am feeling part optimist Read more […]

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December 5, 2016

Mind Blowing Sex can be anti-climactic

It was 4:30 on a Thursday and Steve and I were shut in the bathroom to avoid the two and four legged beasts in our house. It wasn’t supposed to be intimate or life-changing. This was the check in kind of sex. The type that says “I remember you.” A quick release and a promise of more to come. Instead I ended on the floor unable to see or stand. My mind blown. The pain in my head went way beyond childbirth. There was no number on the scale for what I felt. The clutching at the back of my neck Read more […]

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September 1, 2016

The shallow end

“I still can’t wear mascara” she tells her friend. She is in tailored pants, a fitted T shirt hugging her curves with toned tan arms holding her 1/2 caf skinny latte. She has chunky jewelry, brand named sandals and professionally colored blond hair. “You look great.” her friend tells her, truthfully. “People are going to look at me and be like, what is up with her.” I guess because of the mascara. I am listening to her and wondering ‘what is up with her.’ My ginger peach tea is ready at the drinks Read more […]

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May 9, 2016

Echoes- nothing really ends

the end of the echoes of music

For weeks I have been woken by a woodpecker. Sadly, not my husband’s. It sounds like construction inside my head, its knocking not quite rhythmic making it hard to sort out neatly into dreams. The sound echoes off of the strange slants of my bedroom ceiling entering my consciousness the way the bird enters the ailing tree. Awake earlier than we want my husband holds my hand and gives it a light squeeze. I feel a rush of pain and remember the injury I sustained rolling around on the floor at Read more […]

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March 5, 2016

Dressing down dressing up

I don’t like to dress up. Heels, makeup, spanx, a bra with underwire. All disasters. Add to those things a few vodkas and I am a dripping, stumbling, bathroom avoiding, chest clawing mess. Like I normally am but more so. As much as I don’t like to dress up it is trumped by my loathing of “dressing up.” As in costumes, theme parties, role play. I know people love it. I am not like those people. A friend invited Steve and I to a 70’s themed fundraiser. We said yes. That is where the trouble began. Steve Read more […]

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February 16, 2016

Happy Birthday to Me

Picture of Anna Rosenblum Palmer

Here are 42 ways I feel old (er), even though obviously I am NOT OLD. I spent an entire year not knowing how old I was. Today I turn 42. Yet for the past 360 days I thought I was 42 already. Lets call this a bonus year rather than calling last year a lost year, shall we? I see 3am more than I see 10:30pm.  I am up wee hours with literal or figurative indigestion. Both bad. Only one can be fixed by Tums. A lovely dish of Tums graces my bedside. (see #3) I say “its too loud” 20 times Read more […]

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February 14, 2016

16 years ago today my father died

Sixteen years ago today my father died. He has been gone for almost half of my life. Functionally it is more than that, as he has not met my husband or my children, seen where I lived, experienced things I have created and dismantled. Thinking of him has gone from every painful minute to daily to weekly to monthly. I talk about his preference for a certain candy bar when shopping with the boys, but it is fact more than his essence. Like a memory triggered by a picture the story conforms Read more […]

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October 22, 2015

My vagina is a slacker

  My Vagina I am not a modest woman. I am writing about my vagina for fuck’s sake. But still it is tough times on the table, and I am not yet in the stirrups. I sit in my miserable paper robe, called “huge” by the chipper weighing woman, but barely closing with its mismatched ties. It doesn’t have enough slack to cover me. My MD When the doctor breezes in she is younger than I am. This should not be a surprise, but it is. She sits on her wheelie chair and leans agains the wall Read more […]

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