I finally decided I have to change the name of the blog; not because I have become younger or thinner. I want people to find the blog, other than the ones who are Googling fat and old. If I am correctly interpreting the Typepad help files, all of my links should remain intact. You don’t have to change your bookmarks, favorites or blogrolls, I hope.

It’s not easy to find something to write about every day. One of the solutions seems to be memes (me me). Most of them are trivial and easily dismissed, but the latest one going the rounds of elder blogs asks you to list five things in your life now you never dreamt would be in your life when you were 25. I first read about it in Blogging in Paris; Ronni Bennett took up the challenge today.

I’ve been thinking about it all morning, beginning with determining what year I was 25 (1959), where I was (returning to Chicago from California), how I felt. Briefly, I wallowed in those memories and realized I don’t really want to write about them in any detail. Suffice it to say, I bought into the American dream: a house in a posh suburb, a husband who brought home a good paycheck, a beautiful daughter, no ambition other than being a good wife, mother and homemaker; Betty Furness incarnated. That was the only ambition women were supposed to have. I was also severely depressed and might have been institutionalized if it hadn’t been for another Betty (Friedan), who published The Feminine Mystique, attacking the then hugely popular notion that women could find fulfillment only through childbearing and homemaking.

So, everything I am today is different:

1. I am happy, not because I have achieved some goal or passed some milestone, but because the sun is shining; birds are singing; trees are beautiful.

2. I have learned to live in the present. I didn’t know what that meant at 25. I am not without goals, or things I want to achieve, but I have a clear picture about what is really important, family and relationships, and what is secondary.

3. I am divorced and live alone. I went from my mother’s house to my husband’s house, all the time wanting to run away. Now I know I love living alone. I no longer want to run away. I wouldn’t mind more companionship, but I hope to always eat breakfast alone.

4. Like Claude, I also became a teacher and loved it. It seemed impossible to me back when I was in college and when I was 25. Most of the time I taught adults. Once I had a pre-teen class and decided I would never do it again. I taught in a college in Chicago and found I preferred the older students in evening classes, in spite of being tired, to the younger, just out of high school kids. I was able to support myself and earn enough money to live comfortably now that I am retired. At 25, I was sure I would have a husband to support me. How things have changed.

5. I live in Pittsburgh. When I returned to Chicago, at 25, I never thought I would leave. I loved Chicago, knew everything about it, photographed most of it. When I left 10 years ago, to be near my daughter and her family, it was with the added inducement of being near New York, my second favorite place to live.

Maybe ten years from now I’ll do another one of these, telling you what I never dreamt would happen to me after I was 73.

Today’s substitute for exercise was walking around The Waterfront, a large shopping mall built on the site of the Homestead steel mill. I don’t really like shopping, except for food and then only sometimes, but I’ve been accumulating a wish list for the last month or so. What finally pushed me over the edge was the need for paper to print out the picture pages of the book.

I wasn’t happy with the photographs I was printing on my "special" paper the other night, so I printed only the black and white pages. Yesterday, after a stint at the health club, I stopped nearby at Staples. Their stock needs restocking. My first stop today was Office Depot, where I bought some Epson Premium Presentation Paper. I hope that will work. I did not want photo paper; it’s too heavy and you can’t use both sides. I found some online that says you can use both sides, but it costs more than a dollar a sheet. This book is not so precious. The Epson paper says it is "Matte Double-Sided" and has "vibrant images and crisp, sharp text." I intend to find out in a few minutes.

Back to shopping: I went to Michael’s, just for fun; Bed, Bath and Beyond, and Target, where I did not buy the one-person size, indoor grill, because they didn’t have it; Dick’s Sporting Goods, where I did not buy the sports bra I’m still looking for; and finally Giant Eagle for $50 worth of fruit, veggies and assorted cleaning supplies. Now I’ll get back to work on the book with the grill and the sports bra still on my mental list.

Great flight, NO DELAYS! I could hardly believe it. Even the trip to La Guardia was perfect: no traffic and a good driver. I hope everyone had such a great beginning to the new year.

Yesterday morning I had breakfast with a friend from my venture in higher education in New Jersey. We were the older women in the class, although she is considerably younger, and we’ve maintained a friendship in spite of my  moving and various other life changing events. Very satisfying visit.

Afterward I met Renee at the Neue Gallery to see their Klimt exhibit. There were a few landscapes I had never seen, which were lovely. The drawings were dimly lit and mostly very faint. They were too hard for me to see; I didn’t really appreciate the show.

In the evening we took a train to Great Neck, to another of Renee’s relatives, for a New Year’s party. Most of the probably fifty people knew each other. I found another woman who knew no one, and we had a nice conversation. I don’t like large gatherings. My tolerance for them hasn’t improved as I age. Fortunately we got on the 10:49 train and were back at the apartment just at the stroke of midnight. And one of the best things about New York is that you can be on an uncrowded subway totally unaware all those people waiting for the ball to drop.

Yesterday afternoon it snowed, then began to rain. This morning it was raining in earnest and my backyard had become a swamp. I thought I was taking a picture of it, but now I can’t find it. I have sometimes had the feeling I’ve lost some of my pictures; this is the only time I’ve been certain of it. Anyway, there was a ring of water around the maple tree and a small lake under the fir. This is what the yard looked like after Thanksgiving.


It’s been snowing again, so my small lake has disappeared.

I’ve posted some new pictures on Japan on my Mind. As I work on making my posts into a book, I’ll try to keep posting new pictures that didn’t make it into the blog the first time.

Yesterday was one of those dark, gray Pittsburgh days and I let it get to me. I went out briefly to run an errand for Robin, added more photos to the Flickr account, had several long phone conversations, never gave a thought to exercise, and mostly, did much of nothing. By 10 pm I couldn’t keep my eyes open, still jet-lagged, I think, and was asleep within minutes. At 5:30, I was already awake. I don’t want to get up so early. It’s still dark out.

It will be better today, I hope. Phyllis and I will go walking before nine; always a good way to start the day. I promise to do more work on the photos, and I have a few more posts on Japan in my head and started on the computer.

Tomorrow we are going to the East Coast for the holiday. For the last few years we have celebrated Thanksgiving with good friends from New Jersey who are vegetarians. Since the turkey was always my least favorite part of Thanksgiving, I really enjoy these dinners. Last year they came to us; this year we are all going there. Eli will fly in from Chicago and meet us at the airport. I will spend the remainder of the weekend in New York with Renee. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to an airport, but I’m sure it will be good once we arrive.

When I began blogging I wanted to make this a true account of what life is like for an old woman. Most of my posts have been positive; mostly I enjoy myself. This post is different, but it’s part of my story.

Now I am feeling very old. I didn’t begin the day that way: I was out of the house by 8 am and went to meet Phyllis, who never showed up. By 8:15 I gave up on her and went walking by myself. It’s a gorgeous day, sunny and cool. I went into Frick Park, walked briskly down my usual path and stopped occasionally to take some pictures. I’ve been playing with the camera, getting ready to take it to Japan. I wanted to try some new settings.

Walking through the park alone on a weekday is a little scary. I guess I never would have thought about it, but Mary scolded me when she found out I went alone. There were a few runners and dog walkers, but I was alone for long stretches. There are places where I could hear an echo of my own footsteps. Nothing happened and everything was good until I got back to within 2 houses of home. Strangely, there was a plastic lawn chair and a table under a tree in front of the old coach house. I’m sure it was never there before. As I continued looking at it I tripped on a bump in the sidewalk and fell, hitting my knees, hands, torso and finally my lips. I was lucky, nothing broke. My knees are sore; my left thumb is bruised and scraped; a small stone cut into the palm of my left hand and, most embarrassing, I have a fat lip. I’ve been icing it, which has helped.

No one saw me fall. My street is blocked at one end so it’s very quiet. No cars drove by and there was no one to help me. I ascertained that nothing was broken (my worst fear), and that I did not have to use my cell phone to get help. I sat for a few minutes catching my breath and recovering. Then I had to get up. There was nothing, not even a bush, to grab onto. With painful shaking knees I lifted myself off the ground and almost fell again. Slowly, painfully, I managed to straighten up and walk home.

The worst part of all of this is what it does to my self-confidence. I’ve fallen before, usually without giving it much thought. In recent years I have congratulated myself on not having frail bones that break easily. But all of this brings up thoughts of restricted movement and activities. The worst part about aging is the possible loss of mobility and independence. This kind of event makes me horribly aware of how close I live to the edge.

No class today, but I went to the University for a lunchtime talk, a brown bag lunch. I stopped at Camille’s Sidewalk Cafe, a relatively new place on Craig St. to pick up a plastic bag lunch. Len and I ate here last week while we prepared for the brown bag lunch we are giving on Thursday about our Osher blog. Camille’s has free wi fi, making it a very attractive place to work, and the food is good. It’s also not a crowded as my favorite lunch place, Eatunique, down the street.

I gave my order to the pretty young South Asian woman who asked for my name to put on the receipt. In her ears, my very ordinary biblical name became Ruff. I’m sure that’s a long u. The young caucasian man who gave me my lunch called me Ruf, with a u as in up. Within 15 minutes I had a sandwich and two new names. I sympathize with the Asian woman. I would probably mangle her name even worse. I often meet an Indian woman at the art shows I attend. She has told me her name several times, but I cannot remember it. It’s probably a perfectly ordinary Indian name. The next time I run into her, I’ll ask her to write it down.

I thought I’d try another look. I like the color better; can’t say I like the drawing at the top, but I’m limited in what I can do with this Typepad blog. So, I’ll try living with this for awhile.

I’ve been bored with the look of this blog for some time now. I finally made the change; now I have to decide if I like it. One thing I like is that the center column, with the post, is wider. Of course that makes the two outside columns, with all of the pictures, smaller. If you have any thoughts on this, let me know.