And a Year and a Half Later Still...

Just wanted to document a recent change in my journey through Menopause.

Ever since I fell to my knees on concrete (not once, but twice, and only six weeks apart), injuring my knees so badly that I have since learned to live with daily pain, I had been locked in a narrow, stifling box of hopelessness. I gave up aqua-walking, afraid to strain my knee joints further, and 'life without exercise' had paralyzed my motivation to change. I was simply trying to cope with physically feeling twenty years older than 55, trapped in an endless losing battle.

But an embarrassing event occurred recently at a restaurant that proved to become the catalyst for change within my heart and mind. When relaying the incident to a friend on Facebook, as I relived the humiliation and thought back with longing to more active days at the pool, our chat evolved into a mutual plea for a "silent partner" to help each of us lose weight and change our current physical situations. We made a pact to pray for each other, and report our progress whenever we could. Her interest in seeing me overcome my despair, and my desire to help her through some of her difficulties has given each of us the hope to change, and has been the encouragement we both needed to snap out of the funk each of us found herself in.

That was three weeks ago. I have been to the pool four times so far; I am starting off slowly, but I already feel a change within me. It's exciting to gradually take control over my situation again. I am not sure if menopause is officially over, but the end is in sight, anyway. I'll try to keep you posted.

Eight Months Later...

When things on the Internet change, it sometimes sets people back a bit. I get used to one way of doing something and when a shift happens to change that routine, I don't always realize how I've been affected.

A good example is this blog.

I joined Facebook and began connecting with old friends I thought I'd lost forever, or making new friends I spend a lot of energy and time talking with now, and what was lost was my need to have this place to express myself. I stopped having something to say here, because I'd said it all to someone in Facebook already!

And Google changed, too. The way I used to get into "Blogger" was by clicking on a certain symbol on the Google homepage interface that no longer exists. So without realizing it, I stopped dropping into the blogger dashboard to check on blogs I was following and nearly the entire year has sped by unnoticed. I'm still not sure how to get to "Dashboard" from the Google homepage.

Are there still people out there who check my blog to see if I wrote something new? I doubt it. I never developed much of a following to begin with. Only five people were ever willing to admit they followed it. I mostly used this blog to work through my feelings of loss while my dad went through Alzheimer's and then passed away, now three full years ago. I guess that truth be told, that was the main purpose of beginning the blog in the first place.

I don't want to close up the blog, because I like having this place in cyber space to call my own. But I also know I will not be coming back regularly to talk to all of you, so please accept my apology ahead of time. It will seem like I don't care anymore. I do, but I am busy caring elsewhere; that's all!

Thank you for checking in on me. May all of you flourish wherever you are planted!

Julie and Julia

I just finished watching the movie, Julie and Julia. I am a big fan of Meryl Streep's work, and I wanted to see her rendition of Julia's unique way of speaking, sort of slurred and throaty. I didn't know it was a Nora Ephron film till I saw the opening credits. This gave me a sense of "yes" in my choice of titles, because I've loved many of the films she has written or directed. My instincts were correct. It was a wonderful film, entwining two true stories: how Julia Child became a French chef and wrote her famous book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and about a woman named Julie who decided to take a year to go through that book, cooking up the 524 recipes, and blogging about her experiences.

My exposure to Julia Child has been limited yet typical, I think. I grew up seeing her show on PBS once in a while and had the prejudiced impression she was a lush, like a kitchen drinker. She was the brunt of many a joke and comedic skit, and imitated (often cruelly) by a large number of professional comedians on TV. I didn't take her too seriously, as a result, and I certainly didn't feel much respect for her craft or lifework. I went into viewing this film with more respect for Meryl Streep than the character she was to embrace on screen, something I am ashamed to admit, now, after watching the story.

I loved the movie. I loved Meryl's performance; she made me love Julia. If this representation of Julia is accurate, I would have loved Julia (had I known her personally) and I would have tried cooking French cuisine when I was younger, hands down. (Although, I have to admit it baffles me she was a smoker. Aren't smokers supposed to have killed their taste buds or something? This is my only criticism of the woman.) Her enthusiasm for life, and loving food, people, Paris, and challenges must have influenced nearly everyone she met.

I am greatly tempted to go out and buy her book, at long last, even though I have nearly completely given up cooking myself at this point in my life. If menopause ever finishes, I might even want to start cooking again, to be able to enjoy all those really seemingly delicious recipes the actors got to eat in that movie. I really, truly hope their ecstasy wasn't acting but simply the reflection of really delicious dishes, I could also cook for my husband (a diehard fan of all things French) at home.

Further, the blogging part of the movie gave me a kick in the butt about expressing myself on this blog as well, which I haven't been very interested in doing for the past year or more. I would have to say the movie inspired me to speak up. Yes, it was an inspirational film, no question.

If you haven't seen it yet (although I doubt anyone else out there is as behind in their movie-viewing as I am), promise me you will. It really is worth it. Viva la France! Viva la Julia! Viva Nora Ephron films!

Handicraft Hobbies

I have always enjoyed creating things. I sewed my own clothes in my teens and twenties, did embroidery projects or wrote poems in calligraphy and framed them in colored matte frames to give as gifts from childhood on, studied jewelry-making in high school and college and was honored to make the wedding bands for friends & my brother and sister-in-law. In my late teens I crocheted afghans for my brothers and parents, after my grandma had taught me the basics.

Handicrafts have always been a pleasant hobby, and my perfectionistic nature has helped me maintain a high standard for the finished products. The crafts created give me a great sense of satisfaction and well being. I tend to have low self-esteem, but creating something beautiful makes me feel as though I am living up to my potential, and gives me peace.

That said, it is perhaps unexpected to hear that I gave up most of my handicraft hobbies mid-life when I had T.B. and a number of other physical afflictions hit me simultaneously. Worst affected was my eyesight, making those crafts taxing on the eyes impossible to continue. Even after having laser surgeries on my eyes and recovering, I didn't go back to my creative hobbies; I turned to the television and computer instead.

My mother always encouraged me to do something creative while I struggled through menopause; she knew it would make me feel better and give me a sense of self-worth despite the blues that come with hormonal imbalance. But it was difficult to muster the energy to pick up new supplies and my feet dragged.

Yet, it has been in the past year or so that I have found both the motivation and opportunity to try my hand at some handicrafts again. I made a small wall hanging for friends moving away (shown up at the top of this post), & began making counted cross-stitch ornaments before Christmas to give as gifts. That encouraged me to do more embroidery.

Then, when I was looking around for the embroidery floss I'd put away more than a decade ago, I came across a box of yarn in various colors. Within the box was the first few rows of three different afghans I'd started but soon abandoned. One was in a color I really liked, so I pulled it out. This past week I have enjoyed discovering that crocheting is just like riding a bike; regardless of how long it's been since you gave it a try, it all comes back to you. Crocheting is easy and can be done while watching TV, or when keeping my husband company during his late evening suppers after a long day's work. It soothes me.

I look forward to becoming reacquainted with all the handicrafts I have known and mastered in the past. With my son grown and now married, I have the free time to return to my creative roots and enjoy a new period of artistic productivity.

All I Needed Was Time

Mac usage update:

It is now about 12 weeks since I began using my new Mac laptop computer. I LOVE it, and have become a firm believer in my son's Gospel According to Apple. I have since downloaded Word into its memory and am happily doing just about everything I used to do on my PC, as well as a myriad of new things learned on the Mac.

I don't feel like an old dog anymore. I feel like a brand new dog!! It appears that all I needed was a bit of time to get used to the higher technology. Maybe my menopause is ending, too, 'cause I have a new lease on life!

Thanks, son! I'm so happy with my Macintosh computer! Woof!

Trying to Teach an Old Dog New Tricks

Bow wow.

Yes, I am the old dog. The new trick my son is trying to teach me is how to use a Macintosh laptop computer. This computer was his gift to me, promised a year ago, when my old Compaq PC was giving me fits and moved so slowly he could hardly stand to see me use it. He urged me to use his Mac laptop (brought with him from LA for his visit home) and convinced me my life would be much happier and easier if I also left Windows behind and got on the Mac bandwagon.

Since I could never in a million years afford to get one for myself, he graciously worked hard, saved a lot and generously spent a cool grand on his old lady by getting her the latest model, the Snow Leopard. He is teaching me how to use it on this year's visit. We are now finishing up Day Two in his quest to reprogram my computer-related know-how and equip me with enough instruction to cover the bases.

I am limping along, tail between my legs, whimpering. But I have learned:

* how to access the internet and visit all my usual haunts online.

* how to download all my favorite CDs into my music library. (Eventually I will learn how to burn my own original compilation CDs on my Mac. Neat, huh?)

* how to search for movies and dramas online to watch.

* how to do email in either the Mac's mail software or online through gmail, like I used to.

* how to send someone a song via email (couldn't do that on my PC).

* how to access the external hard drive and its content that was a gift from my son's girlfriend.

* how to "share" content from my son's Mac to mine and back again.

That's all in two days! I have taken copious notes, and done certain procedures over and over again, till I remembered finally how to follow the steps without prompting. (If only I can recall it again a few days from now--that'll be the true test!!)

My biggest regret is not having Microsoft Word installed, which means I can't transfer my MANY files from the old PC into the Mac. This alone is the one argument for keeping my old PC set up somewhere in the house so I can continue using Word. I use Word for creating all my documentation as an editor for newsletters in both English and Japanese. Can't imagine life without it!

Such musing, though, is unwelcome to my son's ears. He wants me to be a diehard Mac person now, and no looking back!! I think he feels his money wasn't well spent unless he converts me hook, line and sinker. I hate disappointing him...but...

this old dog appears unwilling to comply. Ah, what to do?

Bow wow!!

East or West, Flute is Best

This summer is a scorcher, and the heat is gradually getting to me, I'm afraid. But last night I had a rare treat that transported me from the sweaty grind of my daily life to a beautiful musical experience: I attended a flute concert.



I am a pianist (third rate at best), a guitarist (good enough to strum along on the camp songs used in my classes), a former vocalist (before I developed asthma in 1994), and am the daughter of a woman with perfect pitch (which means I have a pretty sharp ear, despite not sharing my mother's gift). I've had a lot of musical experience and training, so I tend to be critical of musicians in general, and performers I get to see with my own eyes in particular. I also LOVE the flute, which both my brother and his wife play, delighting the family with their talents through the many years.



So when a former student (a Chinese woman who's lived in Japan almost as long as I have) invited me to this concert, I was eager to go. Well, to be honest here, I really wanted to attend, but was afraid I might not be able to. I haven't been out to a concert in YEARS. I usually refuse invitations like this. The main reason is my size; I simply can't get my fanny into the seat!! So I never go to the movie theater, or to see a play or lecture. And I rarely can attend a concert, either.



But this woman was part of a group hosting the event, and she had some pull in making arrangements for people who need some "special attention" in their seating. Bless her heart, she went all out for me: arranging a parking space right near the door, making sure there was an ample chair (without armrests) available to sit in along the outer aisle (I was totally comfortable!) with a good view of the stage. She even brought me a cold drink for the intermission! What a dear friend! I didn't have to worry about a thing, and had a VERY easy time of it!



And I am SO grateful to have had the opportunity to attend this particular concert, because it was wonderful! The flutist was Junichiro Taku, a VERY accomplished and entertaining musician. He wore formal attire [with one costume change midway, into very cool Chinese garb to compliment a Chinese piece he played], and used four different flutes for the international program entitled, EAST x WEST. But his interesting banter between songs, and the tricks he used to transform a classical flute into a Chinese recorder, or some other ethnic instrument along similar lines, were nothing short of genius. I cannot praise his ability enough. [As I tend to be critical of professional musicians (especially in Japan, where the least able singer can become a top idol, due to their looks, dancing abilities, and/or fashion trends), Mr. Taku can take these words as high praise, in fact.]

I know I sound stuck up. Forgive me this tendency I have to sound arrogantly superior. Living in Japan, in a culture that has bred a nation of modest, humbly-minded gentlefolk, my way of speaking is glaringly the opposite, despite my own feelings of humility born of a major lack of self-esteem. But I once had a musical gift that defined my identity among my peers, and out of habit I have retained that critical ear and mindset which came with the talent. No one is sadder about having lost it than myself, believe me! But although I am no longer able to carry much of a tune, the asthma hasn't had the power to diminish my appreciation for great entertainment.


If you ever have the opportunity to attend Junichiro Taku's flute recital, by all means go, go, GO! You will not regret it!