Blog – Page 1120 – Disney Leadership Keynote Speaker

New Guest Blogger?

I’m honored to be included in Jeff’s blog, and I’d like to get your help with something.

Most of us arrived at adulthood with the idea that we were in charge of our own lives, and that as adults, we could do things our own way. We operate with this thought in mind until reality comes along and reminds us that we can’t defy the laws on nature. It’s during these “midlife moments” that we wake up and realize that we’re not as invincible as we once thought we were, and that we can’t afford to put off the things that are really important.

Here an example of what I’m talking about. I’ve always been very proud of my youthful appearance. I inherited it from my two very youthful parents. Although both of my parents are in their seventies, they are both still very active and look much younger than their years.

For a long time, I thought of this as my genetic curse. When I was in college, people thought I still looked like a kid, and they treated me accordingly. In the early stages of my career, I felt like I wasn’t taken seriously because I didn’t look experienced enough. Later, however, I came to see this youthful appearance as a blessing. I went to a 20-year class reunion and was struck by how much everyone in my class had aged. It sounds conceited, but I left that reunion saying to myself, “Damn, I look good!”

But the good times can’t last forever. One thing I had become accustomed to was being carded. I don’t buy alcohol very often, but when I do, I was used to having the clerk say, “Can I see some ID?” So I’ll never forget that moment when I was buying a bottle of wine to take to a party…and the clerk forgot to ask to see my driver’s license. I thought to myself, “This girl is really off her game, of course I need to be carded.” So I opened my wallet and said, “Don’t you want to see my ID?”

She smiled at me weakly, and said, “Uh…sure.” And at that moment, it hit me: I guess I don’t look 21 anymore. She might as well have said, “Oh yeah, of course I want to see your ID…old man!” Because in that moment, that’s how it felt to me.

Even though the moment was a blow to my ego, I still think I look damn good for my age. I just don’t expect to get carded anymore. And that’s okay by me.

What are some of your most memorable examples of “mid-life moments?” I’d like to hear from you! Please send your favorite midlife moments to Jeff as a comment or email and we’ll share the most intriguing ones here on Mid Life Celebration. Want some thought-starters? Here are a few:

*The day you went from being addressed as “Miss” to “Ma’am”
*The day someone commented on how “distinguished” you look
*The day you realized you couldn’t read the fine print anymore

Looking forward to hearing from you!

iPad Will Change Blogging

Could the iPad change the way people blog?

Betting a dollar it will.

Betting you’ll start seeing it here.

So Incredibly Thankful

The harder, and longer, you work, the luckier you get. You’ve heard this saying, right? But do you believe it?

I have some of the coolest friends in the world. One of them is Lorie Sheffer who writes here on Sundays. She sent me this link to a radical, and important piece of contemporary art – it attempts to start the dialogue to cure our materialistic blues.

Another cool friend is going to premier as a Mid Life Celebration Guest Blogger here. He’s committed to helping me us lighten up a bit. He’s nutty and brilliant, and stealthily funny.

He could be here tomorrow or the next.

Midlife Thanks

Ever have someone do really nice things for you, and then you thank them a decent amount?

But they don’t stop doing nice things for you. They keep at it and continue to be nice, without letting up, without asking for anything, they just keep giving.

And after some amount of time, you suddenly have a panic attack that you haven’t kept up with your gratefulness for their niceness?

Lorie Sheffer, THANK YOU for being a faithful, insightful, and humorous Guest Blogger here at Mid Life Celebration.

If there’s someone in your life that could use a “reminder” thank you, today might be a good day to do it.

Featured Blogger Of Course

Central Pennsylvania’s Lorie Sheffer returns for her regular Sunday Guest Blog Post. Are we lucky or what? Take it away Lorie:

The Things We Do For Love. 10cc sang that one back in 1977. We’ve all done some pretty crazy things in the name of love.

I have cared for a few loved ones suffering from a serious illness, doing the really gross, not-so-pleasant tasks that entails. I’ve raised two kids and have been the primary caregiver for my grandson when his parents have to work. I’ve done my share of things for love. I’m not squeamish.

There is one thing, however, that turns me into a screaming, hyperventilating girly girl. Rodents. I cannot even walk past them in the pet store. Which, by the way, is one of life’s biggest oxymorons; pet mouse. So wouldn’t you know…

One Saturday afternoon, I was digging through the pantry when I saw them: mouse droppings. I ran screaming from my kitchen and into Gary’s arms. I was so hysterical that he couldn’t understand what I was saying, save for “kill it, kill it, KILL IT!” Strong words for a vegetarian who carries insects from the house in a paper cup and releases them back into the wild.

I was horrified to think that one of those disease-ridden little harbingers of death was attempting to reside in my house! I proceeded to throw away anything the mouse could have looked at. Sure you can sterilize glass jars and cans and whatnot, but that mouse had touched them. EUW! I blasted through at least a gallon of bleach in an attempt to disinfect my shelves. I also had Gary set a trap. And then I waited.

The next day, the trap was gone. The mouse had been caught but not killed. In what was surely an attempt to win the war, it had dragged the trap between the cupboard and the wall, where it died. I called in a professional exterminator, who thought that A: it was hysterical that I had called him in for one mouse, and B: the mouse would “dry up in a few days.”

The next few days were a nightmare. The smell in the house was something out of a Stephen King novel. I couldn’t take it. I was ready to get a circular saw and buzz my way through the kitchen cabinet. I would have agreed to put the house up for sale and live in a hotel rather than stay in my house. Gary came home to find me sitting on the bench in front of the house, sobbing, refusing to set foot inside. I asked him to please go pack some things for me, as I was going to go live with my parents.

Then something wonderful happened. He steeled his spine, puffed out his chest, and took long, deliberate strides toward the house. He came back out dressed for battle. He had on a long sleeved shirt, rubber gloves rubber-banded at the wrists, a mask and goggles. He was carrying a small mirror duct-taped to an old broom handle and a black trash bag. He was headed for the Shop Vac. “I’m going to get that mouse out of there for you.”

The theme song from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly began playing in my mind. About a half hour later, he emerged from the hot zone, gagging, bag in hand. He plopped it into the dumpster, then looked at me and said, “Got it. I’ll open some windows, spray some Oust and take a shower. Then I’ll come back out for you.”

I can honestly say he has never looked hotter in all the years I have known him. George Clooney would play Gary in the movie version. My heart pounded and I felt like I did the first time I laid eyes on him over twenty years before. My GOD, man! “You may want to hurry up with that shower!” I said to him in a throaty voice.

Let’s just not tell him that you can buy mice at the pet store! He may try to stock my pantry with a few of them.