Take that, sarcopenia!

I am all-too familiar with osteoarthritis which destroyed the hip my husband recently had replaced. But, it took an email from the folks at BeStrongBeFree to school me on sarcopenia, the gradual deterioration of muscle mass in pretty much everyone over 60. For the record, I'm 58, but reading this description of sarcopenia convinced me I've had a mild case for a couple years. I'm definitely stiffer than I used to be after sitting a while. I do that Tim Conway grandpa shuffle on the way to the bathroom in the morning. And, my muscles seem to be more sore after a workout than ever before. What's a boomer to do? This guy knows.

 

His name is Neil Short and he designed a strength-training program to combat sarcopenia which, of course, he wants to sell. What's different about this program is that you can go to the website and try the exercises, simply demonstrated on video, before you buy. I've seen most of the moves before. In fact, I do several of them in the pool. But, I was particularly interested in - and amused by - a new one called the Get Up. 

Now, what could be so difficult about getting up from the floor and going back down again? Nothing, I thought. But, try it ten times in a row and it's a darn good little warm-up. I did the Get Up this morning before hopping on the treadmill. My dog thought I was crazy, but it's good to keep the canines guessing.

Now, where were we?

For the dead of January, I have a surprising amount of catching up to do after nine days away. First, the hubby is taking to his new hip like Madonna to Botox. (I'll get to that later.)  He's been cleared to drive and to take his daily sauna. And, no more TED hose, aka the bane of my existence. The main problem now is boredom, which is climbing to record levels. There just aren't enough books and basketball games in the world. It's an issue. That's all I'll say. So, let's move on to Madonna at the Grammy's...

The cowboy hat, the dangling garters, the cane...it's just a little sad, that's all.

I feel for her, having to perform with a cane and all. (I have deep sympathy for the lame.) But, holy toxins, people! This Botox madness has got to stop. She looks like a wax museum statue of herself. And now, she's teaming up with Miley Cyrus?! Why can't these divas just age gracefully? (I guess I've had some pent-up snarkiness in the last nine days. Sorry.)
  As I might have mentioned fifty times before, our son moved to the Big Apple recently, leaving behind many worldly possessions, including his effing huge (excuse my French) flat screen TV. Before flying off, he planted the suggestion that maybe we would want to trade our smaller, more sensible flat screen for his because wherever he landed in NYC would certainly not have room for the effing size of it. "NO!" I said. "I have put a lot of thought into the scale and proportion of my living room, and an effing TV like that would ruin the whole scheme of things!" Then, this happened....

It's about the aforementioned boredom, you see. The hip patient desperately needed something to do. "Let's just TRY mounting the effing thing to the wall and see if we like it," he said. (How could I deny the man a project, especially one that involved his tools?) "Holy God!" I said, when we were done. "The effing thing is bigger than the fireplace!" (Did I mention we're studying French?")  Here's a panoramic view, to drive my point home....

I don't know what will happen in ten days when the boy from New York flies home to get his truck and the rest of his belongings. I'd like to think good taste and a sensible sense of scale will prevail. In the meantime, we've already had one helluva basketball watch party...and I'm kinda looking forward to the Super Bowl now.

Aaaaand...I'm back!

It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind and that's what I did with regards to moving BoomerGirl.com to another platform. Turns out, it wasn't necessary right now. What I did do is spend the last several days investigating new platforms for my "vanity site" which had been neglected for six years, at least. The profile photo I was using was way older than that. Who was I trying to kid?

The old home page, circa 2006 (two years after I stopped coloring my hair)

 For those of you who are interested, I used Wix.com to design a simple site that easily accommodates my content, including multimedia. Here is my site, as it looks right now. I highly recommend Wix for web design newbies like me. I'm still working on propagating my domain. (Is that like saying "sowing my wild oats?') But, I trust that will magically happen in the next 48 hours. Anyway, thanks for your patience while I figured all of this stuff out. I've missed blogging, and I've missed you. 

T.G.I. Milestone Day!

                Our P.T. plays ball in the house with the hip patient, dog and Xmas boxes. 

     Today was the last day of home physical therapy AND the taking down of the Christmas decorations, two weeks late. Next week, we'll enter the brave new world of outpatient therapy and - maybe, just maybe - have a ceremonial burning of his TED compression stockings.  Those things are a bitch to get on, and I'm not getting any better at it with time.

     If that isn't reason enough to smile, there is this from my newly created "things to look at when I'm blue" file:

    

Field trip

I won't lie to you, folks. This constant togetherness and chauffeuring is hard work.  It's not like we're on vacation. Hell, it's Kansas in January! Look "Kansas in January" up in your Merriam-Webster. It's the direct antonym for "vacation." Frankly, I'm looking at the next four weeks with increasing dread. How desperate have I gotten? The photo below tells the story. That's right. I agreed to drive the patient to Home Depot...AND go in. For the record, if you have to go to the Depot, 1:30 p.m. is the best time to go. I hope never to test that particular theory again.

At least, someone's a happy camper.

The parking pass: One upside to the misery

After the physical therapist left this morning, the patient and I looked at each other as if to say, "Now, what the hell are we going to do?" "Let's have ourselves an outing," I said in my best Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins voice. "Capital idea," he replied, just like Dick Van Dyke. (Not really. That would have been way too satisfying. He just said, "Yeah, okay.") First, we went to the courthouse to procure our temporary disabled parking placards (one for the car, one for my purse), then off to lunch where we parked directly in front of the restaurant and didn't even have to feed the meter. It was thrilling, I tell you! (Not really. But, I'm trying very hard to be "glass half-full" here. We've got another full month to get through together.)

Words to live by

It's Monday. The house needs a good cleaning. My energy level is low. I did find this column in the paper motivating, however. That's all I've got, Monday.

Caregiver's Day Out

It was the perfect day. Sunshine, 72 degrees. A great opportunity to head to Kansas City, grab a girlfriend, go to lunch at Port Fonda, and make a Costco run. After being cooped up for ten days, I can't tell you how good that felt. And tasted.

Port Fonda's Bloody Mary bar

Delicious chilaquiles

I didn't even worry about my patient until I was driving home, groceries in tow. Was he okay? Did he miss me? What if he fell down in the backyard and is writhing around on the ground right now?!? Pulling into the garage, I saw this:

Out for a walk, ten days post-op

He might have enjoyed Caregiver's Day Out better than the caregiver.

Goin' bananas, gluten-free!

It's Saturday. The basketball game's on. Hubs' hip is still on the mend. I had four almost rotten bananas. So, I made this bodacious banana bread that's gluten free and with half the sugar. Here's the recipe. I used all brown rice flour and a stevia-sugar combo. Oh, and I threw in a tablespoon of cinnamon. Only the teeniest stevia aftertaste prevents me from giving this recipe a perfect 10.  I just presented the patient a warm slice, buttered to perfection. He paid me a compliment so sexy, I'd be embarrassed to repeat it here. Things are looking up! Of course, it doesn't hurt that the home team is hammering our in-state rivals.

Now, that's a nice rack!

New dish rack from World Market. Note black towel underneath to catch drips. Almost invisible!

Our 2-year-old KitchenAid dishwasher is already on the fritz, spraying little bits of food onto all of our dishes. (I tested this by doing a cycle of pre-cleaned dishes, just to make sure I wasn't insane or the worst dish scrubber alive.) Instead of calling the repairman right away, I procured a wooden dish rack and started washing what few dishes we use by hand. Omigod, people! I'm saving energy and sparing my back muscles from that awkward lower rack lean-over. By-hand washing is just as fast, maybe faster, and the glasses are dry in ten minutes, ready to put away. For the moment, at least, or until we have another party...here's to old school!

1 week post-op and counting...and counting....

Me: I'm leaving you.
Him: Where will you go? What will you do?
Me: I don't know. Costco? Sephora, maybe? I just need to get out of here.
Him: Has it been that bad, our time together?
Me: No, the first week hasn't been bad at all. I just need some retail therapy. Caregiver's respite. It's not you, it's me.
Him: But, you'll come back...right?
Me: Absolutely.
Him: Would you pick up some beer while you're out?
Me: Of course. Small price to pay.