Tag Archives: Aging

Literary grandma gets real

Like the velveteen rabbit, I’m becoming more real as I age. This post uses the same photograph as my first one back in 2016. Except I flipped it to display the mirror image. I write with my left hand but posed for the photograph with the pen in my right hand because I didn’t want to appear awkward. How awkward!

If I were to re-enact the scene, you might spot a couple more differences. I have replaced the granny glasses with a jazzier pair, more reflective of my zest for life. I’ve quit trying to use full bangs to hide my cowlick and high forehead.

I’ve faced my truth about my blog, too. Preparing it is a healthy, life-affirming activity for me. It took my contemplating its demise to realize how much I love entertaining people and sharing insights. I’m not ready to hang up my apron.

In the first post, I mused about whether I might become a literary Grandma Moses. Like the photo, this concept embarrasses me now. As long as my writing nourishes me and my readers, I’m happy.

The SoulGuiding program is replenishing my pantry and increasing my willingness to experiment with flavours. Even with my desire to balance my life with other activities, I think it will be feasible to add a new post at least once a month. And not just feasible. Enjoyable!

Basically, I want to keep serving up metaphorical slices of fresh, warm, apple pie.

Fresh. Subjects I deem blog-worthy are recent experiences that made me smile, often with an aha moment. I hope each offering makes you smile and stimulates your own ahas.

Warm. I want to create a welcoming atmosphere, in my blog as in my life.

Apple pie. The Merriam-Webster dictionary says this expression can serve as a metaphor for excellence or wholesomeness. I have perfectionistic traits and try to follow a holistically healthy lifestyle.

The metaphor feels apt.

And I love the guilt-free aspect. This kind of apple pie has zero calories!

Psst. Want some salt?

I laughed from my belly when the saw the urban dictionary definition of apple pie – a slang term for a woman’s vagina. In case anyone is in doubt, that is not what I intend to serve up, fresh and warm, in this forum.

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My Spirit Animal

After protesting vehemently that I wasn’t ready for it, I recently made a snap decision to attend a workshop on aging. The leader invited us to bring a picture or stuffy of our spirit animal.

And how would I know what that would be? I turned to Google for wisdom.

One site suggested I should watch which wild animals seem attracted to me. I live in a large city. I see the occasional squirrel. They don’t pay the least bit of attention to me. That’s a relief. I don’t have much rapport with rodents.

I smell skunk once in a while. I’ve been told that smell is actually marijuana. Another relief.

Another site gave the native American spirit animal based on birth date. According to that, mine is the bear. “Bear people think deeply about life and observe it with equal care.” Interesting, but the idea of the bear created no buzz.

The quiz on another site identified my spirit animal to be the tiger. “By affinity with this spirit animal, you may enjoy dealing with life matters spontaneously, trusting your intuition and acting fast when needed.”

My breathing quickened. My last-minute decision to take the workshop on aging was a case in point. The barn cats used to like me when I was growing up on a farm. Cats are related to tigers, right?

“Do either of you have a stuffed tiger I could borrow?” I asked the next time I visited my grandchildren.

“Yes, we’ve got Tony, the Tiger,” they blurted almost in unison. Nathan clamoured to the holy of holies in his cupboard to retrieve him.

Avery wrinkled her nose.

“You don’t seem like a tiger, Grandma B.”

“What animal would you say I am like?”

“A bee.”

We’ve joked before that their name for me, Grandma B, is fitting because I like to take ideas from one place to another.

“What do you think, Nathan?”

“A butterfly, maybe? You like to garden. I think about butterflies in gardens.”

I have been through a few transformations in my life. Maybe he’s onto something.

Move over, Google. My grandchildren are a great source of wisdom, too.  

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