Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group postings, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today, five bloggers are inviting you into their lives for a glimpse of what you might see if you were a fly on their wall.

     As my husband's 63rd birthday approaches, he has done nothing but complain about his various ailments. If it's not the carpal tunnel in his wrist, it's his sciatic nerve in the left leg that's bothering him. Some days it's his arthritic knee or his lower spine, which he is certain has a crushed vertebra from 1995 when our son caught him by surprise by launching off the bed onto his back. Recently, the doctor told him that his blood sugar was a bit high too and that he needed to consider a low carb diet. Bagels were once his BFF but now he gets mad at me when I serve lasagna or offer him a banana muffin. He is often cranky and tired---which I understand---but I'm starting to feel like I'm living in an old folk's home.

     In true fly-on-the-wall fashion, here are some typical conversations we have about his health:


"If your back hurts that much, why not sleep with the heating pad on all night?"
"Oh sure, that's not dangerous at all.....a heating pad left on all night, then in the morning it's ashes to ashes...."

"This low carb diet is making me nuts. It was my turn to set up the donuts in the breakroom today, and it killed me that I couldn't eat one. I just started gnawing on my arm."

"I have a bone density test today. At my age, I'm worried they'll tell me I've already been deboned."

"The doctor said I should take CBD oil for my sciatic nerve pain. Does this mean my left leg will get high?"

"Help me unload the groceries from the car."
"That's funny you ask because my arms have been cut off. I can't help."
"What's even funnier is that you're about to have your head cut off if you DON'T help."

"Sitting in the waiting room at the vet's office this morning, I overhead someone talking about a dog with a bad eye and only three teeth."
"Sounds like they were describing you in ten years."


"Wow, the news is full of depressing stories. A white water rafting accident, an airplane malfunction and a carnival ride that broke down, injuring several people."
"Well, there's three activities I can cross off my retirement wish list."

"You know you're getting old when you hear 80's music playing at the grocery store and you think, Hmmm...I need to add that song to my playlist."

"Have you tried that new Facebook face App that ages you by 50 years?"
"I'm turning 63. If I did that app, the only photo I'd see is a skeleton with big eyebrows."


     Well, I for one refuse to let my age stop me (but I'm almost four years younger than him, so it's easy for me to say that). Just ignore my limp when you see me hobbling out of Zumba class, and don't bother looking in my medicine drawer ( I swear, the sore muscle salve and plantar fasciitis pads are his, not mine!!). Age IS just a number, right??

     See that photo below of the secret smile? That was my expression when I recently learned that a personal essay I submitted to the NEW YORK TIMES is going to be published in November!! I've pretty much been hyperventilating ever since I received the news. This is HUGE for me since NYT has been on my bucket list since I first started blogging in 2011. The other site I've coveted for years is McSweeney's, and as you might know by now, they published my first humor piece two weeks ago, so YAY!! My mum knew how important these two sites were to me, and she told me never to give up. Her advice---persistence---paid off. Love you, Mum, and miss you. I just wish you were here to celebrate with me.



Buzz around, see what you think, then click on these links for a peek into some other homes:
Bookworm in the Kitchen             https://www.bookwormkitchen.com/

     Today's guest writer is a humorist I met two years ago at my first Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop in 2014. We instantly clicked, and I was thrilled to connect with her again this past April at the 2016 EBWW convention. Angela McKeown, who blogs at Momopolize, is a funny, sweet woman with a great sense of humor. She had me laughing the entire weekend we spent in Dayton, Ohio, and is now part of my tribe of Erma gals that I adore. Please welcome Angela to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love and shares!

LYING ABOUT OUR AGE. LADIES, WE’VE BEEN DOING IT ALL WRONG.

In honor of the International Day of Compassion, I'm taking part in a group posting for the "1000 Voices Speak For Compassion." There are over 1000 writers from around the world participating in this project today in an effort to spread compassion across the globe. I chose a topic that is close to my heart and one that needs to be addressed as a reminder to be kind to the people who deserve our utmost respect and gratitude.




Late one night in mid December, I stood in the check-out line at a Target store to purchase several children's toys for a holiday fundraiser. The line was moving slowly, and the people ahead of me were grumbling about the cashier's inability to move things along faster. I understood their frustration---my feet ached from being on them all day and I desperately wanted to be home in my cozy bed.

When it was finally my turn to check out, I was startled to see an elderly woman hunched over the cash register. Her expression was one of weariness and defeat after listening the harsh criticisms from the shoppers in front of me. As she carefully scanned the toys I'd selected, I couldn't help but wonder what circumstances in life had made it necessary for this woman to work through the night in a busy department store. I knew her feet had to hurt far worse than mine, and that she deserved to be home resting rather than putting up with the verbal abuse from rude customers.

After ringing up my purchase, the elderly woman said that she hoped the children I'd bought the gifts for would love their new toys, and with a tired smile, wished me a Merry Christmas. Walking out to my car that evening, I felt like a heavy rock was lodged deep in my belly.

 I thought about the woman for days afterwards. Would she need to put in extra hours at work through the holiday season just to make ends meet? How many more times would she be forced to endure the lack of common courtesy from impatient customers?

Whatever happened to compassion and respect for the elderly?

Although we live in a youth-oriented society, there's a quiet generation of people who are being blatantly shunned and abused. They are the "invisible" generation; the elderly among us who are often regarded as feeble-minded and lacking in the ability to contribute to society in a meaningful way. This ageist attitude has robbed senior citizens of their self-worth, leaving them the victims of prejudice and disrespect. Compassion, courtesy and respect have gone by the wayside.


 Until we walk in their shoes, it's hard to imagine the quality of life that our elderly face. Their financial situations are often compromised by the death of a spouse, rising medical bills, and a Social Security allotment that's too small to cover the cost of living.  Societal ideologies have contributed to the belief that the elderly are unable to function efficiently, and consequently, they're excluded from the very thing they need most---intergenerational socialization.

I'm ashamed to admit that when I was in my early twenties, I was completely self-absorbed and had absolutely no interest in my elders. For several months, my grandmother lived with us when she was incapable of living by herself. My mother was solely responsible for feeding her, dressing her and changing her adult diapers. I was too busy having fun with my friends to bother asking if my mother needed help. On the few occasions that she did ask me to watch my grandmother so that she could run  errands, I balked at the idea of caring for a woman in diapers.

I cringe now when I think back on those days. I watched my mother fight tears of frustration every time she had to lift my grandmother out of bed, or continually remind her where she was once senility crept in.

And I did nothing to ease her burden.

I look at my mother now, a widow in her mid-eighties, and I marvel at her bravery and strength. But this doesn't stop me from worrying about her every time she steps out of her home. Is she invisible to others? Do impatient drivers cut her off on the highway and yell at her as they speed by? Do people ignore her when they see her struggling to lift heavy bags from the grocery store into her car? Is she taken advantage of by scam artists who view her as a vulnerable, elderly woman? My mother is intelligent and fiercely independent, but it hurts my heart to think of someone ignoring her or mistreating her in any way.

Age should never define a person or diminish our respect for them. When I see elderly people, I'm reminded that this is a generation that was raised during the Depression era. They fought wars for our freedom and faced unthinkable trials and tribulations so that we could have the liberties that we enjoy today. They deserve to be honored, loved and have their dignity preserved.
I still see my mother as the graceful, vibrant woman she was when she was raising me. She taught me compassion and love through the sacrifices she made for our family. I can only hope to be half the woman that she is once I reach my eighties. She is, and always will be, my hero.

I don't see an "invisible" generation when I look upon the elderly. I see people of strength, wisdom and integrity, and the backbone of generations to come.



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