The Joys of Being Forty-Something

I’ve worked with people older than me most of my life and I would oh-so-smugly offer to hold papers across the table so people could read them. There comes a point as you reach the age of forty-something that you begin to realize certain things, like that’s really not that funny anymore, because suddenly, this happens:


I always assumed I’d know when I needed reading glasses and I’d have another reason to curse my Tyrannosaurus Rex like short arms. Instead things far away got blurry as my eyes attempted to compensate. Six months after I got a new prescription and a suggestion from my optomologist to pick up dollar store reading glasses, those pesky things far away got blurry again (never saw that coming). So I broke down and ordered a five pack from Amazon, because I know me and, well, I lose things. I swear the minute I put that first pair in face, I noticed this:



That’s right, my first grey hair is a crazy outgrowth of my eyebrows. I swear it wasn’t there before (though it is possible I just couldn’t see it). I like to believe it grew in cartoon character fast – put on reading glasses and **POP** there’s your grey hair.




I’m going to go price geritol. I’m not sure what it is but I have a feeling I’ll be needing it by the weekend. 🤓

Shoeless Bon

Generally when I pack for a work trip I make sure I have some type of lounge wear/slob wear in my suitcase that is appropriate for wandering the halls of whatever hotel I happen to be in. I’ve learned the hard way that no matter how quick the trip to the vending machines might be, you will inevitably run into someone you know when you’re making the run in the bathrobe from the room. (True story)


Part of my comfort wear includes flip flops but apparently I had a mental relapse when I packed yesterday morning because when I opened my bag, I realized the only shoes I had were the ones on my feet. While find them comfortable, I’d been wearing them for about 12 hours and the thought of wearing them through our group supper just wasn’t working for me.


So I sent a quick Facebook message to my work cohorts, relatively certain they would tell me that this:


wasn’t really appropriate for the hotel restaurant/bar for the evening.


That wasn’t the message back. So that’s how I went to supper:



My feet thanked me for it. And really, they did sort of match my ensemble.


Technology Excitement

I’m not one to rush out and buy the latest technology release. I upgrade my phone regularly, but generally at the end of my three year contract. (Before switching to an iPhone, I had a Nokia for at least 7 years. I loved that phone.) I’m typing this post on a four year old MacBook, purchased only because my previous one died a slow and painful death (for both of us). I had to go to the Apple Store at the Florida Mall in Orlando for help with the transition. I thought there was a celebrity autograph event, only to discover the line was for the store because a new iPad (I think) had just been released.  I was very grateful I had an appointment, a little confused that people were lined up to buy it,  but it was cool to be on “the list” to get into the store.


That being said, for the past three years I’ve relied on my iPad in meetings for notes and handouts. I’ve liked it, but I’ve struggled a bit with note taking during meetings. Typing during meetings feels like a distraction; I’m not listening to what’s being said while I’m attempting to type. I’ve tried writing with my finger or a stylus but that was more awkward than intuitive. Then this winter, the iPad starting freezing and I’d basically maxed out on memory. After the release of the Apple Pencil last fall with the iPad Pro, I hoped that the next version would include a smaller Pro; i.e., 9 not 12 inches. (I carry my iPad daily in my tote bag purse.) I was excited when that’s exactly what happened in late March. I ordered mine online the first day it was available, along with the Apple Pencil.

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Hardcore Fitness?

This morning these Instagram notices popped up on my phone:

Of the top ten words to describe me, “fit” would be about number 77; “hardcore fit” would be somewhere below 200.  Then I realized the photo was:


I’m pretty sure I was tagged as someone who needs to be a potential client. **sigh**


I guess it’s good I didn’t post a photo of my (chocolate) breakfast.

I Can See Clearly Now

While there are definitely differences between the Canada and United States, in my mind they are more quirks versus a noticeable culture shock. Certainly not what you’d expect to experience if visiting somewhere like Saudi Arabia or China.  Quirks like finding Aero bars in the International Food aisle. Or asking where the “washroom” was at a gas station and spending an agonizing (for my bladder)  5 minutes trying to explain I what I was looking for. (I really didn’t know that was a Canadian thing.)


I seem to have stumbled into another of those quirks in my first 24 hours in the United States. I realized en route that I forgot to pack my contact lenses. The ones I use you wear for 30 days then throw out.  I’m not sure when I’m due to replace them, but I didn’t change them in the past week and I’m here for three, so I’m thinking they’ll start to bug me at some point. My prescription hasn’t changed in years so I figured I’d just go online and have a box shipped to me.  Easy-peasy, right?

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