PARTY TIME

Parties can be a mixed bag of nuts including the guests. Sometimes things go as planned. Sometimes---NOT!

When my son, Josh was in second grade, he brought home a birthday party invitation from a classmate named Helga. Her father was a visiting professor from Germany, and her mother was obviously a very formal lady, who had ordered engraved invitations for the entire class. Josh was on time for the party, and I noticed tables set with linen and formal ware, when I walked him to the door. Two hours later, when I picked him up, he came running out of the house with his arms laden with boxes. “So, how was the party?” I asked.  “Best party ever,” he replied. “No one came but me, so I had two pieces of cake, and won all the prizes.” From Josh’s viewpoint, the party was a huge success.

However, at the next gathering he was hit in the head with a stick, when the blindfolded birthday boy missed the piñata. Even though Josh was awarded extra candy and an ice bag, he didn’t think that was as much fun.

I have given parties when some guests arrived early, some late and some never showed up. One couple arrived at our front door a day early, took one look at me in my robe and slippers and said, “This must not be the night.”

I have been to parties where the hostess arrives late, but attended one event where the hostess never showed up. The most memorable party I attended was held in a mansion in Chicago, where I left doggy doo footprints on their plush white carpeting. That was one heck of a grand entrance. The butler cleaned off my shoes. I threw them away when I got home. They should have had smaller dogs.

The worst get-together I ever attended was when my husband and I arrived at his bosses’ home, and either the boss had forgotten to tell his wife we were coming, or they had locked horns right before we got there, because she only came out of the kitchen once, slammed a thermos of coffee, and a coffeecake, (still in the box) on the table, and left. Never saw her again.

I won’t tell you about the time my mother wrapped a leftover sardine around a piece of lettuce in her centerpiece, and my grandmother picked it up, took a bite out of it, and shouted, “Stop eating! The food is poisoned.”

Esther Blumenfeld (Surprise! The hostess is selling Tupperware.)

TRAIL MIX

Every morning I hike a few miles in Sabino Canyon, a beautiful spot in the Santa Catalina Mountain Range that began its formation over 12 million years ago. Hiking is one of the most exciting ways to explore the magic of the Southwest.

I like venturing off the beaten path, but even those who hike the main trail to the top of a mountain are expected to follow some basic rules:

Runners and hikers are expected to yield to equestrians, which makes a lot of sense unless you enjoy getting run over by a horse.
Bicyclists are supposed to yield to everyone and to announce themselves when they are behind someone. They should avoid using a bullhorn because that could spook a tourist, and spooked tourists leave bigger scat than non-spooked tourists.
Anyone going downhill is supposed to yield to those gasping on their way uphill.
Groups of women should not block a trail, but if they do, it’s best to let them go ahead of you, so you don’t think you are being followed by a flock of cackling chickens.
Using headphones or ear buds is not a good idea, because you might miss a shout of “ mountain lion!” “I didn’t hear it coming” would look dumb in your obituary.
If you plan to go any further than the parking lot, carry water, wear a hat, bring sunscreen and carry a cell phone. I even carry a soccer whistle in case I come across game, and in the mountains that can be some game!
If you hike to the top of the mountain, remember you have only hiked half way, unless you want to jump off.
Leave no trace that you have been there. That means if you quaff an energy drink, you should have the strength to toss the can into a dumpster.
Share a friendly greeting. I often ask camera-snapping tourists if they’d like me to take their photo to include the photographer. Most visitors are thrilled, but not if I order someone to get into the picture and he doesn’t know those people.
If you see a celebrity, leave him alone. One day, I spotted the model, Fabio running down the path with his long hair flowing behind him. Unfortunately, he was wearing a shirt.

During the summer season, we suffer a shortage of rain, but not a shortage of stupid. Someday, I’d love to own a tee shirt with a picture of a big cigarette and the words, “Keep your butt off of my trail.” By the way, everyone stops when a rattlesnake crosses the road. No one cares why he wants to get to the other side. Of course if you sit on a big rock to rest your footsies, you just might find out.

Esther Blumenfeld (there’s a tarantula on my welcome mat)

IT'S A PUZZLEMENT

For the last few months I have discovered the joy of jigsaw puzzles.  It all started when a puzzle table was set up in a corner of one of our residential libraries, and 500 pieces of cut-up cardboard were challenging me to, “Get to it Kid! Put me together!”

After spending so much time at my computer screen during the day, and then relaxing by looking at an even bigger screen on my TV at night,  I felt I needed a break.  So, instead of watching too many news shows that inform us of the myriad disconnected pieces in our world,  I reverted back to childhood, and focused once again on the joy of jigsaw puzzles.

In the meantime, I discovered that I’m not the only person who has returned to puzzles that give the brain a workout.  In early 2020, games-maker Ravensburger reported a 370% increase in sales. “It’s kind of a retro- revolution.”

When working on a puzzle, I learned a lot of important things: 1. When a piece looks like it should fit and it doesn’t, it’s not fair play to bang it into place with a hammer. 2. A community puzzle is not a competition. The reward is in the finished puzzle itself. No one, other than yourself is keeping score about how many pieces you have filled into the holes. 3. Racing to the finish does not mean sneaking into the library at midnight to beat others to the goal. 4. Sometimes a “missing piece” has fallen on the floor, or you are sitting on it, and finally 5. A thousand piece puzzle does not fit on a 500 piece table.

I discovered in my research that puzzles offer more than just fun.  In 2018 The Journal of American Geriatrics Society found that people who do puzzles saw improvements in mental sharpness.  “Technically the brain is not a muscle, but it can be trained like a bicep. The more you exercise your brain, the stronger it gets.” Also, puzzles can improve short term memory.

“Our brain is separated into 2 hemispheres which control different functions. The left brain is more analytical and logical while the right brain is where most of the creativity, emotions and intuitive thinking live. Puzzles are an activity where you engage both sides of the brain in a total mental workout.”

You can also develop better visual-spacial reasoning while figuring out how everything fits together.  The fun about working on a community puzzle is that if you get stuck, a jigsaw loving compatriot will come along and find the missing pieces that you have been searching for. And, the nice thing about a stack of puzzle pieces is that you know eventually there is a solution.  It’s a rare but clear problem that can be solved— unlike so many of today’s life’s challenges that seem like disconnected pieces.

Deepak Chopra said, “There are no extra pieces in the universe. Everyone is here, because he or she has a place to fill, and every piece must fit itself into the big jigsaw puzzle.”  That’s an excellent theoretical thought, and I will ruminate on it, but first I’ll work on the little stack of pieces on the table in my library before I try to figure out exactly where I fit in the universe.

Esther Blumenfeld

AGE IS MORE THAN A NUMBER

It’s a given, the the only way to live for a  long time is to get old, and at 87, I definitely qualify.
When George Burns was asked, “What would you most appreciate getting for your eighty-seventh birthday?” He said, “A paternity  suit.”  He also said, “You know you’re getting old when you stoop to tie your shoelaces and wonder what else you could do while you’re down there.”

If anyone had even asked me about my advice at 87, I would have told them: 1. Learn one new thing a day. 2. If you do something nice for someone, do it early in the morning, because then you won’t have to be nice the rest of the day, and 3. When someone says, “Why don’t you look 87?” I pick up a strand of my hair and say, “It’s the Genie in the bottle.”

I am very fortunate to be in good health, but firmly believe that exercise has kept me relatively spry.  Every morning, I get my hiking stick and walk outside for about 45 minutes. Also, once a week I twist my body about in a Chair Yoga Class, and am proud that I haven’t fallen out of the chair yet.  I also take classes in Stretch and Strength.  Still not sure which is which, but I keep the body parts moving with as little moaning and groaning as possible.

A few days ago, I was late for a class, so forgetting my age, I thought, “Why not take a little jog down the hall carpet to class? Sounds like fun!”Consequently, it took no time at all for me to go down like a goalie skidding for a hockey puck, and I ended up with a mildly skinned knee that developed into a small scab. Chagrinned, I swore that I’d never try running again.  However, it did bring back sweet memories of childhood, when, as a little girl, I always sported skinned knees after playing outside, as did most little girls who wore dresses on the swings, teeter-totters and slides. My parents weren’t helicopter hovering parents, but they alway had a large supply of bandaids.

Every life cycle begins with infancy until a baby turns 18 months old.  Then you becomes a toddler. An infant’s job is to eat, sleep, poop into a diaper and trust that someone will take care of your needs—especially if you cry at the top of your lungs. When graduating into toddlerhood from 18 months to 3 years, you eventually gain enough confidence to say, “NO!” And since now you are curious about everything, it’s fun to have people chasing you before you get into too much trouble. Next, come the pre-school years from ages 3 to 5, when you begin to do things on your own, and have a purpose in life such as smearing big sister’s lipstick all over your face, or sticking a scissor into a light socket. Between 5 and12 children become more self aware learning to read and write, unless local government has banned all the books in the school library.

Then come the bumpy adolescent years between 12 and 18, and that is a really BIG in-between. Social connections are important and computers and cell phones rule, so you and your mobile hardware try to  begin to learn who you really are.  However,  if that is your only connection with the real world, you may find out, if you’ve never really adventured out of that bubble, that you don’t know who you really are, and you have let other people define you.  Then, you  may be in trouble.

If you make it to young adulthood between 18 and 40, it’s time to learn from failures—because you will have them—maybe social, professional or even financial. Sometimes young adults experience a quarter-life crisis.  However, if you are smart you will find out that you don’t really learn a lot from the good times, but you really do learn and grow from the bad ones.

According to psychologist Erik Erickson, Middle Adulthood starts at 40 and ends at 65. Time to look forward to Social Security.  This is the stage of crying like a baby again if people look back and are resentful about their life rather than becoming caring members of society.
The last stage is Late Adulthood which applies to anyone over 65. That’s when someone like me can feel a sense of peace and be grateful for everyday and be proud that you played the cards the best you could according to the way they were dealt.  Hopefully, you can end up  with a touch of wisdom.  At this stage being called a “Wise Guy” is not necessarily bad unless you spend the final stage of your  life in prison.

So there you have it in a nutshell…THE EXTENDED LIFE CYCLE ACCORDING TO ESTHER.

Esther Blumenfeld (“Today is the oldest you’ve ever been and the youngest you’ll ever be again” Eleanor Roosevelt)

BLOCKERS FOR THE IMPULSE CHALLENGED

After whacking the immovable cap of an “easy to open” bottle on my garage floor (accompanied by an inordinate amount of colorful language) I was finally able to open the sucker. I know that prying the top off of a bottle of apple juice isn’t worth the aggravation or the rise of blood pressure, and I do wish that I had exercised more self-control.

Little did I realize that I had nothing to worry about, because self-control is now a thing of the past. Technology is the present, and electronics are going to give us all the tools we need to help us behave like grown-ups. Will power will soon be passé, because science is going to take the place of self-control. Wow!

Here then, are some of the devices that will save us from having to police our own impulses: For people who’d rather engage their thumbs than watch traffic on the road, a GPS can be programmed to lock down texting once the car starts.  And, if you have bad breath, your ignition will also lock down when you exhale, and your breath smells like a brewery. In this case, technology not only saves us from ourselves, but also protects clueless drivers on the road, who are busy chatting on their cell phones.

For out-of-control squanderers there is a computer program that can cut off credit card spending. I don’t know if programmers have developed a wallet that bites your hand, but consumers are now able to set up a “spending alert.” Thus, your friendly banker will cut you off when you exceed your spending limit.

For computer addicts, there is an Internet blocking program that shuts down web access, and the package also includes a spring, which propels you out of your chair. Sorry, I made that up, but it is not so far fetched. After all, there is a device that watches our workouts and critiques how we did, “Only fifty pushups? You wimped out!”

I am so relieved that I don’t have to control myself anymore. I expect that the next time I want to put a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into my mouth, my refrigerator will drop an iron mask on my head, clamp the sides shut and save me from myself.

Esther Blumenfeld (de-teching)