The Route to 66

It’s official. I am a Medicare card carrying, Social Security receiving Super Adult. Today marks the 66^th anniversary of that eventful day when my 42 year old parents, and my 19 and 14 year old siblings welcomed little Paula Marie into the world. I have tearfully said goodbye to Mom, Dad and my sibs, but I feel their presence always, and know they are celebrating with me today as I mark another notch in my birthday belt.

The past year was marked with some challenges and milestones – a debilitating back injury and surgery, retirement, Hubby happily relocating to a home office, and all of the adjustments that ensued. While I may have moved to the last age demographic bubble on (almost) every survey, there’s still a lot of life left in this girl!

I also find myself being more reflective. What have I learned so far on my journey? Here are 17 Things I Learned On My Route to 66.

1. I have had a simple, full life. I have reconciled any regrets with self-forgiveness
2. I reinvented myself and my careers, choosing always to follow my heart
3. I have made lifelong friendships
4. I have not let the worst moments of my life affect the best moments
5. My children are my greatest accomplishment
6. Grandparenting is my reward for not inadvertently killing my kids as their clueless mother!
7. I am happiest when Hubby is by my side
8. Laughter is the secret sauce of a great marriage
9. Letting go of toxic relationships is liberating.
10. Perfectionism is an excuse - and a roadblock to growth
11. Giving selflessly is reward enough
12. Fighting against social injustice is ageless
13. Forget science and technology. Well engineered undergarments (aka Spanx)  are the best invention of the past 100 years
14. You’re never too old to dance
15. Every fashion trend will reappear in time – except, maybe, shoulder pads
16. Pie trumps cake
17. Love trumps hate

Aging is inevitable. Your relationship with age is a choice. I choose to embrace the physical reminders and cherish the gifts that my years have bestowed on me.  Hubby is taking me to the Happiest Place on Earth today, where I will proudly wear my “It’s My Birthday” button, enjoy the people watching, and count my blessings.  

Go ahead. Call me “Paula-ana” – I’m excited for what my next 66 years have to offer! Happy Birthday to Me. Here’s to my Sensational 66!

My loves. My heart.

Why Am I Here?

Everyone can relate to those annoying moments when we can’t pull that byte of information from our human hard drive. What day is Charlie’s vet appointment? Is this the “other” week for taking down the recycled trash bin?  What was it I headed to the kitchen for? Life, at any age, is rife with moments of forgetfulness. As a super-adult the memory lapses may become more frequent, but to date I can say my record for timely data retrieval is pretty damn good. Except for that one day…

It began as a Sunday brunch at our home, following a Saturday night shindig in our "always ready for a party" backyard. Out of town friends and family congregated at Casa de Hultman for mimosas, munchies and memories. As usual I channeled my inner Martha Stewart, doing what I love most – entertaining. It was a lovely gathering if I do say so myself! After the guests departed, I felt the satisfaction of another successful social event, and a bit of fatigue associated with the week of socializing with wonderful friends.  I decided to take a nap – something I never do – but my bed was calling my name.

Twas the Night Before...it took a day or so to remember, as the video below shows.

An hour before I "lost my mind"!

Six hours later, I opened my eyes as I was being inserted into an MRI chamber! What happened in those hours between my nap and that tube of terror is nowhere to be found in my memory. But Hubby, Son and Daughter have filled in the gaps. Let me set the scene…

As I headed upstairs for that fateful nap, I asked Hubby to run to the store for some Gatorade, my after-party beverage of choice. I had opted out of imbibing that day, but the week of “fun with friends” had resulted in the lower intestinal “gift” that keeps on giving! Son and Daughter-in-Law were at their home preparing meals in advance of the arrival of their first born, due any day. Daughter was with her Mommy and Babies group at the beach, enjoying a beautiful SoCal Sunday. About an hour after I had gone upstairs, Hubby left to fulfill my G2 request. Then the calls started…

According to phone records and corroborating reports from those involved, I called hubby first, but he had left his phone in the car when he ran into the market. I called Son and Daughter-in-Law next. By all reports, I sounded completely normal, and asked if Hubby was there. DIL said no, and I ended the call, but not before telling her, "I can't remember anything." I then called Daughter. “Something is wrong, I can't remember anything," I reported, then I added the kicker! "Dad’s not here and he won’t come home!” Understandably alarmed, she stayed on the phone with me while her friend called Hubby. He was leaving the store, got the call and raced home in record time. He found me sitting on the edge of the bed, coherent but confused, saying I didn’t remember anything. 9-1-1 was called, EMT’s arrived, and I was triaged, then transported by ambulance to the local hospital. I REMEMBER NONE OF THIS!!

I learned in cases like this, the first diagnosis is stroke. Once that was ruled out, the ER doctor and “virtual” neurologist (yes, there was a robo-doctor!) diagnosed Transient Global Amnesia (TGA). You can learn more here, but the cliff notes are:

• Sudden onset of memory loss
• Retention of personal identity despite memory loss
• Normal cognition, such as the ability to recognize and name familiar objects and follow simple directions
• Absence of signs indicating damage to a particular area of the brain, such as limb paralysis, involuntary movement or impaired word recognition

Just ride it out, the doctors said. She will not remember any of this and will be herself within 24 hours. To rule out anything more sinister, I was subjected to CT scans, MRI’s and EEG’s, and experienced my first hospital sleepover since giving birth.  

For the family, relief replaced panic. Daughter and Hubby stayed by my side, and enjoyed the comedic side effect of TGA - my repetitive questioning – “Why am I here?” “How did I get here?” This was a continuous loop for hours, with my occasional comment, “This is just like “50 First Dates.” DIL and Son showed up to join the party, and Hubby swears he asked my permission to video a TGA moment, as a souvenir of my “mindless” adventure. My comments and reactions to Hubby's news is priceless. You know I love my followers because I am showing you "Paula, unplugged!"

As promised, my memory slowly returned, and about six hours after my “nap”, I was almost back to normal. Follow ups with neurologists confirmed this was TGA. Try as I might, I cannot pull any memory of those lost hours, and in particular feel a little cheated out of recall of that ambulance ride and cute paramedics!

Earlier this week, Daughter reminded me of a momentous event in her life that I had totally forgotten. TGA wasn’t to blame this time. As she shared the memory with a bit of a laugh, I felt guilt. I should have remembered! Thankfully, Daughter filled in some of the gaps and rekindled my memory. Whew! 

We all have unforgettable moments in our life, but what about the lost memories? I'm hoping they are lingering in the recesses of my brain's white matter, ready to materialize one day. As a super adult I am learning there is a limit on our mental cellular data. 

To my friends who have dutifully kept journals, I admire you. Imagine the joy you will have reading and reliving your history!  I am pledging, for my remaining days on this planet, to begin this daily practice of jotting down notes.  Perhaps the collected memories will help me answer the BIG questions of life…

Why am I here? How did I get here?

Bucket List, Chuck-it List

I’m a list maker. Always have been, always will be. As a kid, I catalogued my collection of 45’s –  those now-collectible vinyl discs that rendered their scratchy tunes on my hi-fi record player – each carefully numbered and neatly indexed in their carrying case (which I still have!). I left page-long lists for babysitters. The family friend who stays with our Golden Retriever gets his “Chillin’ with Charlie” instructions. Even Hubby gets one of my lists when my honey-do’s exceed three items.

Lists have two purposes, to which all “listers” will identify. They’re the hardcopy backup to the oft overloaded mental notes, and more importantly they provide the greatest pleasure of all - the satisfaction of the check mark or confident strike-through of each completed task. I compiled a list on my laptop with new subjects for this blog, and am already pondering how I will ceremoniously give each topic closure – I’m leaning toward changing the font to bold. Yes, I am that

person! 

It will come as no surprise that I created a “list” in the months before my retirement date. Personally, I’m not a fan of the term Bucket List – or the Before I Die List, as I see it! In fact mine is likely not what you might imagine, or would have created for yourself. And it’s not one of my neatly typed or carefully penned creations. I wasn’t even in list-making mode when I began writing thoughts on the subject. I was just a girl, with a post-it pad, and an app that calculated how many work days I had left – eighty-eight to be exact…

In a moment of inspiration, I began numbering the corner of each page of that little sticky note pad. 88, 87, 86, 85….all the way to page 1. My goal was to write one retirement to-do per day on one page, then transfer that page to a new stack, thus creating a countdown to R-Day and a lovely collection of super adult activities. Some are grand (book a Mediterranean cruise). Others are adventurous – for me (go kayaking). But most are small, almost insignificant (take Charlie to the beach, anonymously purchase someone’s meal, plant a garden). Each one brings happiness, and I can say that I have succeeded in accomplishing a fair number of my post-it promises to myself. I have since added to the post-it pile as my retirement mindset has expanded.

woodleywonderworks goodbye via photopin (license)

An equally important accomplishment has been my Chuck-it List (and yes, I do call it something a little grittier). This one isn’t in writing. It just IS! I have used my 60’s to detox my life! Toxic people - gone. Regrets - so long. Cluttered closets –I’m working on it. Maybe it's time to part with those 45's! I am using this decade, and the time retirement allows me, to rid myself of that which does not bring me joy. My commitment to the 3-U’s - Unplug, Unfollow, Unsubscribe - remains a work in progress but I am finding that life is so much more rewarding in its simpler form. Hygge, anyone?

I’m happy with my not too grand, Before I Die list, but my Chuck-it list has probably brought me the most inner peace. And it’s never too early to start your own. Bucket or Chuck-it!

soikkoratamo Midday tea via photopin (license)

The Beat Goes On - Not My Mother's SIXTIES!

Remember me? Here I am, thirty days closer to completing another trip around the sun, and 6 years after I faced my 60^th birthday and the angst I allowed it to create in my silly little brain. While I have blogged only occasionally since then, I can report that a lot has happened these past six years. Celebrations.  Break-ups.  Achievements. Health scares. Losses. Even the “R” word – retirement! 

-Salvaje- Hippie bike via photopin (license)

As the Big 6-6 approaches, I have realized that this entire decade deserves as much attention and reflection as did that milestone birthday. Hell, a few of my nieces and nephews are turning 60 now. It’s time for me – for us -  to celebrate The Sixties – not the era, but my adventures as a 21^st century sexagenarian. 

It won't be earth shaking or life changing, but perhaps my musings will evoke a memory of your own, or inspire you to reflect on the chapters of your story, and the cast of characters who have played a role in the person you are today. 

Tune in tomorrow for my first in a series of Not My Mother's Sixties blog posts. 

Hugs,
Paula

Life Lessons from Lucy - An Old Dog's Wisdom

Hello readers (aka family and friends!). A lot of life has happened since I began my journey into "super adulthood". My adventures continue, and I have made a promise to myself to share them in the weeks and months ahead. 

Today, one of the saddest moments that a pet owner must endure prompted my return to blogging. We had to say goodbye to our wonderful girl Lucy. Writing helps me heal, and the following post is my tribute to Sweet Miss Lucy.... 

She must have been a beautiful baby. I can imagine a creamy blonde bundle of fluff, small for her breed, and likely the most mellow of her litter. A precious Golden Retriever who would have brought joy to any family. Instead she became breeding bitch G-75 - according to her ear tattoo - and was doomed to life in a cage at a puppy mill. A commodity - the canine incubator of profitable pups as beautiful and kind as their mother. If not for the expensive C-section needed to deliver her last litter, G-75’s story would have ended differently. Instead, that C-section led her to us. Lucy’s life truly began when she picked us as her family. 

Lucy made every day better. She was perfect, and we are heartbroken that she is gone. But sweet Miss Lucy has left us with some important life lessons. Our old dog taught us a lot about how to live one’s days....

Never say never

Hubby and I had been a dog-free household for five years. We were never going to have another dog. After our last Golden, Tracy, died suddenly, the pain of her loss was something we could not imagine going through again. But I was ready. So was hubby. We opted for a rescue and began the process of adoption. Within 3 weeks, I saw her on the list of available Goldens. Saved from the shelter where she had been discarded. They had named G-75 Julie Lynn, and we knew she was The One! She was our Lucy.

Forget the past, find joy in the present

Lucy’s first life must have been horrific. Yet, except for a couple of avoidable phobias - the sound of rustling plastic bags, water from the hose - she was extraordinarily calm, kind, and friendly to every dog, cat, kid and creature she ever met. Every day we could feel Lucy’s appreciation for the life we gave her - it was in her eyes, in her very presence. Lucy was content in the present - so were we!

Live and let live

Nothing riled Lucy, including our wild backyard bunnies! Over the years, the past Hultman pooches gave them a run for their money...and sadly, they provided an occasional bunny meal. Not Miss Lucy. They learned quickly that she had no interest in chasing their little cotton tails. It was comical to see them happily grazing on the grass nearby as Lucy found her perfect pee spot - which never overlapped with their nightly salad greens! 

Uphill battles are worth the effort

We had to teach Lucy a lot - puppy mills are void of stairs, car rides, toys and no pee zones! Each night’s journey upstairs to bed began with her thoughtful navigation of 14 steps. We could “see” her brain at work...”Okay, take one step up with one front paw....now another....hmm, now one step with the opposite hind leg...that’s it! Now repeat with the other front, other back and so on, and so on”.....every night for almost 5 years, we beamed like proud parents when she made it upstairs to the bedroom and her favorite spot on my side of the bed. Even in her weakest state, she insisted on fighting her upstairs battle, and slept peacefully with her people.

Greet your loved ones with glee

Coming home today, we felt the void as we drove up our long driveway. I was with Lucy most of the time (the luxury of working from home), but if left outside, she would wait patiently on the side yard, under the shade of the lemon tree until we returned. We delighted in finding her gazing attentively as we turned in the driveway, perking up once she confirmed our arrival - then dashing to the other side of the yard to gleefully bark her “Welcome Back - I’m so glad you are home!” Homecomings were filled with joy!

Live life with wags not growls

Lucy never, never, ever growled. Never! She feared no one, and assumed everyone loved her as much as we did. She actually loved the company of people more than pups! Dog park visits were less fun to Lucy than our favorite breakfast spot, where we were known as “Lucy, party of 3.” We would wait patiently for our table, and she would wag her tail and gently tug on her leash to get closer to those seated nearby. She was an unofficial therapy dog, and a kind lady once said, “I feel better just by seeing her.” She had that effect on people. 

Face life’s challenges with grace 

Lucy’s “G-75” years left her physically weakened. She wasn't strong enough to jump or stand on her hind legs, and tore her doggie ACL shortly after we got her. She endured surgery, steel plates, and 8 weeks confined to a small indoor space, followed by physical therapy until she could take walks again. Lucy handled the ordeal with calm resolve - and only a few whimpers. It was her first battle - and sadly not her last - and with each one, her tail wagged, she loved her doctors, and faced each and every  battle- including the last - with her Lucy spirit intact.

Our sweet girl was a special gentle spirit, and we feel blessed beyond words to have filled her final years with the love she deserved. It was an honor to share Lucy with so many, who were somehow drawn to her when in her presence. While the pain we feel today is hard to bear, we will be forever grateful that she found us. 

Sweet dreams, Sweet Baby Girl. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHXFRGwjSzU

Our old dog, Lucy. We will cherish every memory with our sweet girl.
Rescued April 19, 2010
Crossed the Rainbow Bridge January 26, 2015