On Completing 50...

 A few months ago, I wrote about the trials and tribulations of turning 50. You remember that (not you personally turning 50, but my blog about it), don't you? The wiry gray eyebrows, hot flashes and insomnia, wrinkles, sags, and bags? Then, I finished saying I'd keep you posted as I sat back and used an objective, scientific eye to observe and report on the process.

Not my eyebrows, but I swear sometimes when I
look into that damn magnifying mirror, this is what I see!

Well, that hasn't happened. I mean, I've been observing the whole process, in minute, gory detail. I've just failed to a.) be objective about it, and b.) report on it. So, now here I am 13 days away from my 50th birthday, wondering where the last few months have gone!

To be honest, I've discovered that turning 50 is really quite liberating. Not in the way I expected it to be back in my 30s when I thought, "damn, that's old" and not as I expected even a decade ago ("then I'll be so old I'll be able to just let myself go and it won't matter.) Instead, it's given me a new perspective and new freedom to look at life with new eyes.

I know, I know. How can 50-year-old eyes be new? Well, after having spent many a navel-gazing hour reflecting on my life (what else is there to do while floating around the pool? I can't read 'cause my reading sunglasses are polarized so I can't see my tablet screen, and holding a book over head becomes so taxing after a page or two for us old folk), I came up with a quick summary of my adult life. I really don't know if it holds true for everyone, only for me.

In my 20s, I knew everything. I had the answers. I was so much smarter than my parents had ever been. I'd never make any mistakes. I'd charge ahead full force and conquer the world, avoiding pitfalls and obstacles because I could.

Me, at 22.
Youth is so wasted on the young.

Ha!

In my 30s, I looked back on the hubris and arrogance of my 20s. What does youth know of hard choices and sacrifice. Or of hard work, for that matter? My 20s had been full of childish games and conceits. In my 30s, I worked hard and learned valuable lessons. That was my time. Before then, I thought I knew everything, but now, I'd learned--usually the hard way--just how young, naïve, and ignorant I'd been. In my 20s, I didn't know what I didn't know. That might be the only thing that let me survive that decade. With the new awareness that "the more I learned the less I knew,"  I was able to really grow and conquer the world in my 30s because then I'd REALLY learned everything.

Celebrating my 30th birthday with Julie.
She's been helping me celebrate for 20+ years now.
Despite that, we refuse to grow up!

Right.

By my 40s, I started to have some doubts about my knowledge base, but I knew I knew a whole lot more than I had before. I also knew that there would always be more to learn, that I'd have to keep an open mind forever to really continue to grow as a person. But I was confident in my ability to keep learning, absorbing, taking it all in. I'd be a lifelong learner, tackling new realms and pursuing new knowledge. The 40s would be my time to achieve life goals, have new experiences, take on the world on my terms with full awareness that I still had many lessons to learn.

Julie and I celebrated our 40th year with by getting tattoos when our day at Brewers Bay Beach
was rained out. Later that year, we did a group trip to Jost van Dyke with a group of friends
who'd all turned 40 that year and all lived in the VI at overlapping times.

Sure.

So, what do I think of all that aggressive, active pursuit of knowledge now that I'm staring down the eyes of 50? Who cares? I'm exhausted. Just thinking about all that wore me out. I had to go get a glass of wine and take a break. Not only do I now realize I don't know squat, less than a drop in the bucket of all the knowledge in the universe, but I don't care, either. The world is a big and fascinating place. No one person is ever going to know everything there is to know about it and no one expects me, or anyone, to have all the answers. Anyone who thinks they do, anyone who is fully confident that they're right is either young or an idiot. I no longer feel like there's some deficit in me if I'm not certain. That's what makes life interesting--the unknown. Fifty has given me the freedom to not worry about being certain and having the answers. If it's important, maybe I can find out about it, and if not, oh well. The world won't end. I have embraced my ignorance.

I've also bypassed the entire "turning 50" trauma by switching from "American English" thinking: I'm turning 50; to the chronologically correct Spanish term: Cumplo 50 años. On my birthday in 13 days, I will not turn 50, but I will have completed 50 years of life. Thus, rendering it too late for the trauma and drama of those pesky milestone birthdays because that year is now done, completed. Over.



Visiting in NY.

And a spectacular 50th year it's been. My second novel, Ye Gods! A Tale of Dogs and Demons was accepted for publication by Casperian Books (it'll be coming out in spring 2014), we got to see family in Chicago and New York and enjoyed our Hinkey nieces and nephew visiting us here, a spectacular visit with our best friends in San Diego, had all sorts of wonderful times with friends throughout the year, and expect a few more before my 50th year is complete (zip-lining in NC with the Gosses next weekend!)

Hinkey and Masaryk visit to SC

At the Birch Aquarium in San Diego with Misty and Terry

All in all, fifty is feeling pretty fabulous right now. With age doesn't necessarily come wisdom, but perhaps more wit to deal with it all, and enough exhaustion from those previous five decades to really not care about wasting energy on the things that really don't matter.

I can't wait to see what the next decade brings!

With Shana and Sheila at the Dirty Girl Mud Run
for Breast Cancer Awareness and Research.

The main reason life just keeps getting better all the time.
(Don't be silly. The giraffe was awesome, but I meant my husband, of course!)

 

DECODING THE MUGGLE RULE BOOK

Do your dogs (or cats) seem to play by their own rule book? Mine does and I really wish I had some way to decode it. Muggle seems to have a very detailed and specific set of rules he plays by and all I can equate it to is obsessive-compulsive disorder, OCD, a la Tony Shalhoub's Monk character. Can a dog have OCD? What are all those rules about? I'd love to decode Muggle's behavior to understand the rules he plays by!

Here's a look at Muggle's "normal" behavior throughout the day. Tell me what you think.

The morning routine.

6:00 a.m. Climb into bed. Morning rules: lay down exactly 1-arm's length away so the food-lady can pet me, but barely. No snuggling. If food-lady doesn't stretch out her arm and pet me, paw at her until she does. If she moves closer, give her "the look" and move to the foot of the bed.

The Look: "You want to cuddle? Really?"

 

7:00 a.m. Breakfast time. Paw at food-lady, then get down from the bed and stare at her. If that doesn't get her up, make "grrff" sounds until she's awake. Go outside to pee before breakfast. Breakfast rules: Refuse to eat until food-lady gives me an appetizer. If it isn't good enough (beggin' bits or cheese) spit it out, give her "the look" and walk away. Do not begin to eat my food until the cat tries to get at it.

7:30 a.m. Pace in front of the door and "grrrfff" until we walk. If food-lady doesn't respond quickly enough, pace faster.  

The Look: Where's the breakfast appetizer?

The walk rules: Stop at the end of the driveway and search both ways for biscuit-lady and biscuit-man (a couple in our neighborhood who carry dog biscuits with them when he runs/she walks.) Go in whichever direction they are. If they aren't out, turn right. (Always go to the right for our morning walk unless we can turn left for a biscuit!)

When we return, sit in front of the treat cupboard giving food-lady "the look" until she gives me a treat (dentabones or jerky are the only acceptable post-walk treat; if she tries to sneak in anything else, spit it out, give her "the look" and walk away.)

9:00 a.m. Snuffle through the toy box, find the correct toy, and wave it in front of food-lady until she plays. If she ignores me, paw at her. Give her "the look" and wave the toy some more. If she doesn't play "right" sit and give her "the look" then paw at her and try again.

Rules of morning play: Use only the toy I bring to you--no other is acceptable, even if it was my favorite toy yesterday. Today's toy is the only one I play with. No tugging too hard or I will drop the toy, go to my pillow and pout. No tugging too soft or I will drop the toy, go to my pillow and pout. No playing in any room other than the family room.

9:15 a.m. Stop playing, no matter what we're doing or how much fun it is. Lay down. Ignore any further attempts by the food-lady to engage me in play.

9:15 a.m. Play time is officially over.

The evening routine.

5:15 p.m. Start pacing and "grrffff"-ing to let them know it's dinner time. Dinner rules: Refuse to eat until I get a beggin' bit. Pace in front of the door and "grrrfff" until we walk. Always go to the left for our evening walk.

6:30 p.m. The food-people's dinner time: stare pathetically until I get to sample their food. Spit it out unless it's steak or seafood. Chicken is sometimes acceptable, but not always. If they try to feed me anything else, give them "the look."

The Look: You expect me to eat that?

 

When the food people attempt to watch television, jump on the couch between them. Paw and grrrff until they pet me. But, if they call me onto the couch, ignore them.

9:30 p.m. Bedtime. Grrfff and pace until the food-people turn off the television or computers. If they don't, pace back and forth from them to the stairs to let them know. If all else fails, give them "the look" and bark. If they have other humans visiting, bark at them until they leave or go to bed.

The Look: Are you still here?

Bedtime rules: Wait patiently while the food-lady prepares for bed. If she forgets to put my water dish down and give me a treat, growl at her. After my treat and water, climb into bed to hump "girlfriend" (stuffed alligator toy) for 5 minutes, no more, no less. If girlfriend isn't already on the bed, drag her to the stairs and grrfff at food-lady until she brings girlfriend into the bed. Lay between food-lady and food-man and demand pets. Paw at them if they don't cooperate. When food-man turns out his light, get off the bed and go into my crate to sleep.

Repeat.

Muggle's schedule doesn't vary by much from day-to-day. Even when we went to Chicago, he stuck to his routine, except everything was 1-hour earlier (by the clock) because of the time zone change. He's a great traveler and adapts well to new environments, but don't mess with his routines or he gets twitchy.

He's also a good host when other dogs visit his house. As feisty as he can be on a leash or at the agility field, when other dogs come to our house, he's very accommodating. He lets "company" eat and drink from his bowls, play with his toys, and wander around his house. He has pulled his favorite toys out of the basket and hidden them in the sofa when other dogs visit, but he's pretty polite about sharing the others.

Muggle with his favorite houseguest, Dagan.

As for his toys, he can get twitchy about where they are--we must follow the toy rules. He has a toy basket downstairs and 3-4 toys in the bedroom upstairs. If the upstairs toys go down or vice versa, he will frantically search the toy basket, taking inventory, then move the toy to where it belongs.  

Muggle also has fetch rules. He loves to play fetch, but only at the agility field, in the family room, or in his grandparents' yards. If you throw the ball for him anywhere else (including our own yard!), he'll get it and take it into the house or to the car. He won't give it back to you. When he's done playing fetch, he'll bring the ball back to you and drop it, and walk away. If I throw it then, he'll give me "the look" and walk away.

Fetch is okay at Grandma Hinkey's house.

I know we've somehow instilled these routines in Muggle, but even without the schedule, he seems to have his own set of rules for how things get done. I'd love to have a chat with him and see what he thinks about all this, to somehow decode the Muggle Rule Book and see how and why he's such a very orderly dog. I'm sure Matt would like to know how he can get some of Muggle's orderliness to rub off on me, too.

What do you think? Do we have an OCD dog, or just a spoiled one? Do your dogs have unusual rules, routines, or behaviors they play by? What do you think your dog (or cat) would tell you about their routines if they could?

The Look: Are we done here?

 

You've Been Skyped!

My fellow member of the Internet Writing Workshop, Jack Shakely, wrote a hilarious op-ed for the LA Times: Skype Makes Monsters of Us All. If you've ever looked at that little inset video image of yourself while Skyping with someone, you'll relate!

Too funny not to share! For those of you who have never had the dubious pleasure of seeing the Skyped you, here's evidence in support of Jack's contention that your webcam adds 10 years to anyone over 50.

Exhibit A. Me via my laptops webcam. (And I left my glasses on,
glare and all, because I'm too vain to let you see how bad it looks without them!)