O Happy Day!!!

Above is the apartment and Cuervo looks out the window. See all the tall buildings?
Much has happened since the last time I posted. I have been living in Washington, D.C. for over a year and a half now. And to all of those people who say that where you live is not what makes you happy, or that if you are unhappy somewhere, moving won't make you happy - YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!
I am in a state of continual bliss whether I am fatigued or hurting or annoyed (although I am seldom annoyed by anything). I live in a wonderful place on the sixth floor with a bookstore that I can see from my bedroom window as well as many other shops (I basically live above a chic shopping center!) I adore it here and can't wait for my husband to move up full time and to buy a permanent place to live here.
I go to museums; I have no trouble with my vegetarian diet as even steakhouses here will have a vegetarian option; I eat almost all locally grown or organic food. My car may stay in the garage for as long as 8 days at a time, and I have a bicycle (and helmet) that I can ride to the post office, the grocery store, the drug store (all of which are within 4 blocks of where I live) or on any of the many bicycle trails here in Washington/Arlington. No one stares at me either, this 59 year old woman wearing a helmet and riding a bike - because I'm NOT THE ONLY ONE! And even if I were, it wouldn't matter. Here it's pretty much live and let live.
The best news and what actually got me up here earlier than my original 2010 date was the birth of my grand-daughter in April 2009. I got to spend almost every day of my life with her until they had to move to Africa (my son's work) this summer (I'll see them at Christmas).
If you are living in a place that stifles your soul, your creativity, your heart, then MOVE before you get any older. I should have done this a long time ago!
Ahhhhh, blisssssss...

Are We There Yet?

I am a baby boomer, born in 1951, a child of the 'sixties who wanted to be a hippie in a Cadillac, and who loved the night life of the '70's. (I still love nightlife; I just can't find anyone around my age group who'll dance with me - and I don't mean the waltz or that '50's stuff that older people do).

I'm going to be 56 next month, (I took the picture above about 5 minutes ago - I don't think it's to bad for 55) but I'm still about 28 years old in my head (and I mean that in a good I-like-to-have-fun-way) which makes me younger than my son - who is the point of this entry.

We met my son and daughter-in-law in Philadelphia this last weekend, and at one point before they were about to leave to go back to D.C., my son interrupted my love affair with a nice Pinot Grigio to say, "Mom, promise me that you'll exercise."

Uh, oh.

I've always wanted to be the best mother ever because my own was so rotten, and because I understand and always understood that children were the most important thing. I read, used common sense when I could and attempted to be the most rational person in the world where my son was concerned.

My own behavior was affected profoundly. Anytime I wasn't sure about an something, I would always ask myself, "Would I think it was okay if my son did this at my age?"

I t was the best moral code ever for someone who believed that children are precious - even when they're grown.

My son is a good person with an equally good and lovely wife. He is moral, hard-working, intelligent, interesting, fun to be with. I care more about his good opinion than anyone's I know.

I got him through a good private college, helped him through graduate school (another private college), gave him moral support, hid my anxiety from him when it would have been selfish of me to have shared it, and tried to be available and helpful whenever he needed me.

I'm glad to say I'm not finished.

I have something else to do.

My son pointed out that the people he worked with who were my age and a bit younger were happy or miserable he thought depending on the health and activity level of their aging parents. The ones who had parents who did not exercise, take care of themselves (he was not talking about health crises people cannot help), eat well, enjoy life were wallowing in worry and misery. The other offspring were enjoying life as were their parents presumably.

I can do something else for my son that I wouldn't do as well for myself. I can take care of myself.

I've already begun.

We often travel together in foreign countries; I don't want to miss that. I want to climb where he climbs, do (within reason) what he does. After all, he got a big part of that sense of adventure from me.

And you do not know how happy it makes me that I can help him with this one thing that will benefit all of us.

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