Rock the Silver

We are all time travelers on this train

Photo by Paco CT's photostream

I have always adored books about time travel. Stephen King's 11/22/63 is no exception. It's not a horror novel but a well-told told story about a guy who goes back in time to try and stop the assassination of President Kennedy. It's funny, nostalgic, suspenseful, thought-provoking and on top of that -- a great love story! I could not put it down.

But this is not a book review. It's the reveal of an ah-ha moment about life imitating art. Time travel is an interesting concept. Most discussions about time travel eventually get to the paradox of what would happen if you went back in time and killed your own grandmother. Then you wouldn't be born, but if you hadn't been born, you wouldn't be traveling into the past, would you?

The King book is about what happens when you mess with the chain of events and all the causal links. For example, you might save a man from being seriously injured in a horrible car accident, but then he might get killed later because he was able-bodied and sent to fight in a war. Tinkering with the past could have unintended consequences.

I wasn't thinking about time travel or Stephen King as we were watching the election news in Charleston, SC. We lived there five years and absolutely loved it. They showed some images of the city, and I said, "If only we hadn't left." My husband said, "You might be dead."

Because the chain of events were such that I was diagnosed with cancer shortly after we moved to a new city. It was almost as if the right doctor who knew exactly how to treat my cancer was standing by waiting for me to get there. I got to live, and well, you can't argue with those results. What if we had stayed in Charleston? Was anyone there going to cure me?

Suddenly, the real-life applications of fictional time travel became clear to me. All these things that happened in your life had to happen in order for you to get here. Even if you could go back and undo the damage, undo the stupid decisions and all the other bad stuff that haunts you, you might change just enough to end up in far worse shape than you are now.

Thinking about life as time travel helped me move on. When I think about Charleston now, my memories are filled with nostalgia not regret. Sometimes things happen for no apparent rhyme or reason, and sometimes we have a hand in it, but eventually what happens, happens, and it becomes our past. The past is an accumulation of causal links in our own journey through time.

We are all time travelers on this train, and I find that comforting. And liberating. It helps me let go of the why's and the what if's. The Stephen King book speculates that traveling through time and changing the past can produce disastrous results. I'm speculating that traveling through our memories of time and regretting the past is pretty much the same gig.

Carpe diem!

In Memorium: Charla Krupp

I was stunned this morning to read that Charla Krupp passed away. The New York Times obituary said she was 58 and died from breast cancer.

I first wrote about Charla in 2008, when I started the blog. Her book "How Not to Look Old" helped me through my transition to gray. In addition to a hair makeover, I needed a style makeover, and she had a lot of great advice. I never bought into her idea that you had to hide your age to be successful, but I still browse the book for tips on how to look better.

In 2010 I reviewed her book, "How to Never Look Fat Again." I didn't like it, but I don't think that affected her sales! And on a day when I am feeling pudgy, I might be tempted to pull it off the shelves and see if there are some ideas that don't seem quite so offensive in a time of need.

Rest in peace, Charla.

Gray hair isn't what ages us

A woman at work who is about my age complimented me on my hair this week and said she would go gray except that she competes with younger folks at work. I said, well, I do too, but I'm pretty sure they know how old we are. I'd rather just be in their face about it.

I don't think we project our most positive vibes when age and try to pretend it hasn't happened. Hell, yeah, it happened. And you'd better be glad it did, because I am that much better because of it. I'd much rather project the confidence of someone who has learned from life, is exceptional at her job and comfortable in her skin. Hide? I don't think so.

Hair is just one variable in how you are perceived. We are also judged by how we dress, what we say and even how we walk. A colleague was describing someone to me the other day, and he said, "You know, he looks like the dead guy walking." And I knew exactly who he was talking about.

I'm reading an excellent book about becoming even more vital both mentally and physically as we age. It's kind of groovy -- not for everyone -- but the stretching exercises alone are worth the price of admission. I find myself walking with more spring in my step. Gray hair isn't aging -- but aging is aging if you don't pay attention to your body and mind.

Yesterday I was shopping for a new bicycle. My hair was down and freshly blown, and I wore workout tights and my Rock the Silver t-shirt -- thinking I might do a test ride. The guy who runs the shop was probably my age or a bit older. He was pointing out a bike and said, "You're young and fit -- you won't grow out of this bike."

All day I kept thinking, he said I was young! I've stated quite frequently that I don't care if I look young, but still, it's better than if he had said, "You're getting on up there, and you won't need this bike for long." I asked my husband later if the guy was just flirting to sell me a bike. I mean I've got this crop of gray hair and wrinkles to match, surely he didn't really think I'm young?

My husband said, "Nah, it's how you come across. You seem young. That's probably what he meant."

Maybe they were both flirting.

Silver updos

I guess I can call my hair long now. Maybe to be more accurate I should say mid-length. It has been fun, actually. I've been experimenting again with an updo that is appropriate for work. The top one is my favorite because it's easy, comfortable and I like the contrast of the small barette. The second one is a little more on the classic side. I use spin pins, but if you aren't careful, they can be like drilling holes in your head.

Several people have complimented me on the updo. It gives the illusion of short hair, which is a fun way to mix it up. I'm starting to wear it this way more often than not. I tell you what I would really like to try is a scrunchie. I know, I know. Stylish Young Co-worker made me promise I would never do it. But I think the right one wore low on the neck can be pretty. I bought this little braided twisty at Ulta -- it's not quite a scrunchie, but it's kind of heavy for my hair, and I haven't worn it in public yet. I like the overall effect. Who would wear scrunchies if it weren't such a fashion faux pas?

I just can't imagine why so many people find long gray hair unattractive. I've become quite vain about mine. I love looking at it and playing with it. I especially love the variations in color that you see when I wear it up. I went to an event this week and noticed all the women who dyed their hair, and they seemed rather blah to me. Who wants a wall of fake color when you get this naturally?

Holiday foodie fight

I was supposed to be on vacation this week. Monday was a holiday. I slept in Tuesday morning, but as we were sitting around drinking coffee and talking endlessly ... again ... about what to have for dinner, I thought, this has got to end. My husband is a serious foodie, but I'm more of an eatie.

Him: Lobsters are on sale at Central Market.

Me: That sounds good.

Him: I could make lobster rolls.

Me: I'm sick of bread.

Him: Steamed or maybe cold with homemade mayonnaise? Stew?

Me: Any of those would be fine.

Him: We don't have to get lobsters.

Me: I liked it better when I just came home from work, and dinner was a surprise.

Him: OK, fine.

Me: I probably ought to go to work.

Him: Really? Don't you want just one more day?

It was a tricky escape, but I got dressed and went to work. However, I felt bad because I was sure I had hurt his feelings. He has feelings, I know this, they are just difficult to extract at times. I came home that evening and said I was glad I went back, there was a pile to do, and at least I wasn't behind starting out of the gate. He's like, yeah, yeah.

Me: You're annoyed.

Him: Not at all.

Me: Is it because I like it when you just make dinner without my input? I don't mean to take you for granted.

Him: No. I agree. I'll take care of dinner. It's easier without you.

Me: Is it because you don't think I like hanging out with you? That I don't love you?

Him: Nothing is wrong. I'm fine.

Me: You know I love you, and I do like hanging out with you, I'm just not crazy about being locked up in the house with you everyday for two weeks.

Him: I get that. We should have gone somewhere.

Me: What is it then? I can tell you're mad.

Him: All right! All right!

Me: What?

Him: I can't believe you said you were sick of bread. Bread! It's the staff of life and has been since the dawn of civilization!

Me: Wow.

Him: Is this some new thing you're up to, some radical anti-carb platform?

Me: No! It was just that one day. I swear.

Him: Are there new restrictions on when I can serve bread? Is it just sandwiches you hate? What about garlic bread with pasta, or is that out, too?

Me: Whatever you decide! Bread is good! All hail bread!

Him: OK then.

Me: OK then.

Him: I love you.

Me: I love you, too.

This is why we've been married 33 years. One way or the other, we get to whatever it is. I mean, we could take a more direct route, but eventually we get to the root of whatever is bugging us. And it's amazing, it's usually not the big stuff. Bread, though, I guess that's pretty big in the life of a foodie. Personally, I could take it or leave it, but I think I'll keep that to myself.

The year of never giving up on your dreams

Donna, 1999

Happy New Year everyone! I'm excited about 2012, but then I'm still sort of shocked and delighted just to be here. 2012 marks 13 years since I was diagnosed with advanced stage ovarian-like cancer. What I had is actually called primary peritoneal cancer. Tumors form in the lining of the abdomen instead of the ovaries, but it's pretty much the same gig and is treated as such.

Someone actually said to me, "I thought everyone died with that ..."  I said, "Well, apparently not everyone." The five-year survival rate for my prognosis is about 25 percent. Some people live years with active disease, but I have been healthy and cancer-free since my initial treatment.

You can check out the cancer category in the blog archives if you want to read more about the diagnosis and treatment, but that's not why I'm here chatting with you today. It's a new year, and I wanted to offer some perspective on never giving up on your dreams.

At the end of 1999, I was weak from a year's worth of surgery and chemo but optimistic the cancer was gone. I began 2000 thinking about what's next. I was stuck in a job that paid reasonably well and didn't demand a lot. Everybody's dream, right? It was probably a job I could have kept for life. It was a good company, great people and they liked me well enough, but there were few opportunities to move up. The job I aspired to was already taken, and I'm pretty sure that person was planning to be there for the duration.

The thing is, I'm not wired to be happy unless I am challenged. I dodged cancer, but I wasn't sure I could escape being bored to death. I'd had a good run at it but was no longer satisfied professionally, and nothing I tried made a difference. I finally accepted this was a nut I could not crack, and it was time to move on. I remember telling a friend I was going to hunt for a job, and she said now she knew for sure that I was crazy.

You have an easy job that pays well, you live in a nice house with an easy commute, you just survived a lethal form of cancer and you want to do what?

I'm also not wired to fly without a net, so I was exceedingly careful to ensure I didn't do anything exceedingly stupid. I wasn't looking for the big bucks sexy job that looked to good to be true. I wasn't about to blow our solvency simply because I had the itch. It took me another five years to find the right opportunity and make the move, but I did it. I did what I set out to do.

You could say it was risky, but it was a calculated risk, and I have been rewarded. We moved across the country and discovered a new life. I found the challenges I wanted (holy crappola did I find them), my husband is enjoying retirement, we're healthy and happy and excited to still believe in limitless possibilities. I wasn't even sure I'd be alive. How's that for perspective?

I started to write, here's to achieving your dreams in 2012. But then I thought, it took me five years to find a new job! I've been writing this blog for more than three years, and it's nowhere near what it ought to be. I haven't given up on that, either. These things don't necesssarily happen on our timetable. I think this is what I meant to say:

Here's to 2012 and to never giving up on your dreams!