Road Trip

On my recent trip out west, I got to spend time with my friend Jill, whom I have known since I was 12. It has been quite a journey for us, beginning that day we met in the park, doing something no 12 year olds should ever do. Even in the seventies. We have been through middle school, high school, college, our twenties, our thirties (probably the bumpiest of decades), and now we are in our--dare I say it aloud-- late forties.

On this latest leg of our journey we found ourselves on a short road trip from San Diego to meet my cousins in Laguna Beach. Just after we pulled away from the gas station, when Jill immediately had to crank the air conditioner because I had been sitting there sweating--despite open windows, no humidity, and a nice breeze--she suggested we come up with a list of things you'll never hear a menopausal woman say.

Ten minutes later, we had most of our list. We tweaked, reworded, and had only a couple more to come up with. I finished the list just yesterday, and consulted with Jill to make sure she would stand by the list before I hit publish. And so here it is, the list.

10 Things You'll Never Hear a Menopausal Woman Say

1. It's cold in here.
2. My hair is so thick, silky and smooth.
3. This is my natural color
4. Wow, that was a good night's sleep; I didn't wake up once. Not even to pee.
5. I haven't cried in months!
6. I'm late for my period--do you think I could be pregnant?
7. I don't understand the point of pantyliners.
8. As much as I eat, I just can't seem to gain any weight!
9. I'm so sad to see my period go.
10. I'm going to miss having cramps.

One thing you will hear me say, often and sincerely, is that I am incredibly blessed to have friends--Jill and others, some nowhere near menopause-- with whom to share this long, drawn out, incredibly inconvenient and sometimes embarrassing end of fertility that is menopause.

My Week in a Word: Anticlimactic

I am not referring to the beginning of the week that was the end of my west coast vacation. I'm talking about coming home to spend the last week of my summer vacation in light of the time I had spent away.

I had an excellent summer vacation--one of the best in recent memory. In addition to my trip west to Seattle, Portland and San Diego to visit with Tamara, Jill, and my cousins Lisa and Joanne, I got away to Newport for few days and to the Cape for a weekend (and reconnected with an old friend there who was nice enough to have me at her house), and Lindsay got married. My family celebrated happy occasions this summer. Only happy occasions.

So when I say my week was anticlimactic, it is because my summer was simply fantastic.

Photo Journal: Farmers Market, Poway, CA

My Week in a Word: Therapeutic

Despite the most excruciating pain I have never experienced In my back, leg and hip after last Friday's airport debacle, I am on an amazing vacation. Spending time with old friends--talking, laughing, eating, drinking, shopping, laughing some more--far away from home, in beautiful west coast destinations has been everything I needed it to be.

Photo Journal: Sunday in Seattle

Hot Mess Redefined

I like vacations to be low-stress, especially when I fly. Not all of that is under my control, of course, but I do what I can. I'd rather a long layover than a short one, and I typically don't travel at crazy times. After the Cankle Incident a few years ago, I have sworn off red-eyes from California. Generally, afternoon air travel suits me well. Happy hour in the sky.

It leaves me to wonder, then, what the heck I was thinking back in the spring when I booked a 6:05 am flight out of Bradley International. Another lapse of reason came just yesterday morning, when I allowed myself only an hour at the airport. I never do that. Apparently my inner teacher child was rebelling against the alarm clock and waking in the dead of night, as I do so much of the school year.

So imagine my panic when I got to the airport and saw a line of 40 people waiting for the sky cap.

Then imagine the anxiety escalating as I waited, and waited, in thick August humidity, only to see the skycap tag my luggage "late" when it was finally my turn and tell me I needed to take my suitcase in myself to TSA carousel 2 so it could get on the plane with me. Grrr. At least he refused my tip.

I did as told, then waited in another long line to get through security, all the while taking deep, calming breaths, saying little prayers for the safe arrival of my bag and me in Seattle.

Finally, just after I gathered my things from the X-ray conveyor and put my sandals back on, I heard this: "Southwest Airlines paging passenger K to gate 4. Passenger Joanne K to gate 4 for final boarding."

Holy $&@?!$&*#%¥€!!!

Did I mention that while waiting in that first line I started a doozy of a hot flash?

So there I was, in my well-chosen outfit (comfy, not too casual--you never know who you might meet), a heavy weekender bag on my good shoulder, carrying my purse with the arm of my bad shoulder, sciatica in my right leg (yeah, that's the latest) running as fast as I could while the adrenaline exacerbated my hot flash.

Hot Mess much?

Make that a Hot Flying Mess.

My Week in a Word: Productive!

I had my teeth cleaned, my sister (the one who cleans my teeth) helped me clean my car (like REALLY clean my car-- post to follow), I had my first physical therapy session for my shoulder, I started a calligraphy project, I finished reading a book and started another one, I cooked dinner in three nights, I caught up on my tan...

And had my first mini-anxiety attack that weeks like this are numbered.