Just Don't Call Me Late for Dinner

A few years back my husband Ned bombed a job interview with one word. The word was "elderly." It was an interview for a principal's job and they asked him something about the best way to keep a staff energized, and in answering, he wanted to speak about how he'd inspire the teachers who had been around the block several times, despite their many years of teaching. In giving a great answer, though, he referred to those folks as elderly. 'Nuff said. Next candidate, please. (The correct term he should have used was "veteran teachers.")

Elderly isn't a pretty word. Nor is "old." "Veteran" sounds too much like we served in World War II and let's face it, if we did, we're most likely more aptly described currently as "dead." And, since I'm heading to "old" pretty soon, what with turning 60 in five months, I think it's time to find the perfect term, the "bon mot" if you will, (good word in French, I'm feeling worldly today) for describing someone "of a certain age." (another term I can't stand... what age is that certain age?) And, that's when it occurred to me. Why do I need a word? What not use the actual number?

To quote a Vice President of Circulation I once worked for when I worked at a newspaper, "The number is the only thing that matters!" (If you bang on the table with your fist while you yell that at the top of your lungs, you'll have almost the perfect picture of our Monday morning marketing meetings. If you throw in the F-word while you bang and yell, you'll have the exact picture.) But, as profane as he was, he was also right. The number is the only thing that matters. After all, when you are talking about someone's age, or stage of life, you are only referring to the number. Each person defines his or her own number and that's my point.

The number itself has gotten a bad rap, which those of us who are living to defy it, know already. So what if I'm FILL IN THE BLANK HERE WITH YOUR AGE? Don't judge me by that number. I should be able to shout the number with pride without adding an adverb or adjective. "Old" or "elderly" conjures a visual of a shrinking person with thinning hair and thickening waistline. But, look at me when I tell you I'm 60 (Okay, not yet, but soon, and it fits this post better than 59 which sounds way younger, right?) and you'll see that this is what 60 looks like.

Here I am with my daughters. It was last week, a great day in which we celebrated the new teaching job of the youngest child. So, yeah, I'm 60,  you may think of that as "old" but do I look it? (Rhetorical question, I hope. If you don't agree, feel free to yell "Hell yes you look old." I won't hear you and I can go on thinking I look amazing.)

So, folks, here's the thing about today's rant about those of us who are 60-ish. We're old...er. We're also wise..r and calm...er. Don't live by the adjective. Live by the number and then fashion that number to fit your own style. Don't be boxed in by anyone's idea of what your life should be based on the adjective which describes your number. Live the adjective you want to describe your number. And, when someone asks your age, proudly announce your number. (Or, just for fun, add 10 years and they'll immediately tell you how good you look. If they don't, that's a problem you may need to attend to.)

My Wellness is Paying Off!

These are words I never thought I'd write -- I love my healthcare insurance company. Today I got a check for $25 from them. In the memo part was succinctly written just one word -- Wellness. I have no idea why my wellness made them want to pay me $25 bucks but I'm not complaining.

I thought that perhaps word has reached them that I am headed swiftly toward 60 and I've stated on this blog and elsewhere that I plan to not go gently. I'm kicking, screaming, dancing, singing, running, drinking (hey, it can't all be spartan!), and laughing my way there. So, maybe the insurance company agrees with me that the best way to age beautifully, inside and out is to take action. And, for some reason, they've decided to reward me.

The thing about wellness is that it's usually its own reward. No one thanks you for taking good care of yourself. You have to reward yourself. (And I do, frequently and often.) You can't take good health for granted. It's incredibly hard work to live in a healthful way. It's way more fun to drink and eat and have fun with no boundaries than it is to take the time to reign in your wildest instincts.

So, I think I should spend this $25 bucks wisely. And by wisely I mean exactly the opposite -- not wisely at all. I love found money in that it isn't already spoken for. The mortgage doesn't call its name, the utility company is not insisting I use it to pay them, you get the idea. This $25 bucks should have a fun use, maybe even something wellness related.

Thoughts?

Oh, and by the way, by tomorrow I will no longer be in love with my healthcare insurance company. By then the reality will come sweeping swiftly back to me that each month I pay them a boatload of money to be covered. I will remember the annoying co-pays that always seem higher than they should be and I will recall that no prescription drugs are covered, either, nor dental. So, no need to remind me of the demon that is my insurer. For today, I'm enjoying their "largesse" (sarcasm included there) and celebrating my found $25 bucks.

Is getting my hair done a good way to splurge?

Wellness... it's a beautiful thing.