Growing Old Isn’t Awful
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It’s been a busy time and things are winding down and listening to the show is just the thing on a Saturday after the New Year begins. The two older kids are still home from college — one going back early, wanting to get things going for her final semester; the other enjoying down time with friends along with some time to himself. And the youngest started up at school on Monday. There’s a lot going on — scholarship renewal forms and applications, college communications, wedding planning, graduation planning, double the grocery shopping — so when my dear friends tell me I’ve been quiet lately, well, what can I say. I feel loud as ever. I wake with energy daily, but it peters out sometimes by dinner. And that’s just how it is. I’m no spring chicken, and — let me tell you — there were a few episodes of gift wrapping where it took me a bit to get up off the floor.
It seems every year, about this time, I notice I’ve grown a bit older, and I think about how I might live better and I buy flaxseed and enroll in another round of yoga and I cut down on something and shoot for more of something else. A friend whose mother is not 100% asked me last week why it is growing old is so difficult, why it is, for some, quite awful. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond at first; I may not be the best person to ask. I mostly enjoy aging, and yes, it has its struggles, but so much about it all is attitude. I rather like the gray hairs, (though I did try pulling ’em out there for a while and I prefer to call them “silver”), and the challenges I’ve had physically have been pretty minor. I get winded now and then trying to keep up with the kids, and more and more frequently I can’t come up with the right word for what I wish to say.
I told my friend that growing old isn’t awful. It’s a blessing, really. Not everyone gets to grow old, and those of us who do can’t live in our bodies forever, and, frankly, I’d rather not. That life ends makes it precious, and growing older certainly is a trip, and if I can’t quite keep up all the time, so be it. I can still dance, and make Mr. S. laugh ‘til his belly hurts. I can still walk a mile in a decent amount of time, and when I sleep, I sleep hard. And when I wake in the morning to a good measure of fallen snow, I’ve got it in me to get out there and clear a path. There may come a day when I don’t have it in me, but until then, by gosh, hand me a shovel.
Made these dumplings this morning, and there aren’t words for the lovely aroma of butter and cinnamon and apple filling the house. The whole lot disappeared in short order, and I may very well make another half batch and not tell a soul.
2 packages of crescent rolls, 8 per tube
4 apples, peeled, cored and quartered
2 sticks butter
1½ cup sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 can Mountain Dew
Wrap each apple quarter in a crescent roll and place in a 9×13 cake pan.
In a small saucepan, melt the butter, sugar, and cinnamon together. No boiling
on this one.
Pour the sugar/butter mixture over the apples, and pour a can of Mountain Dew over all of it. Bake at 350 for 30-40 minutes or until apples feel done when pierced with a fork. Serve warm with whipped cream.