Author: bone&silver

She’s slipping through my fingers, and there’s nothing I can do

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I’ve written before about Mum, who’s 81 and lives in the UK, most recently HERE- ‘Mother and daughter out for a walk’ , and a longer one last year about the health situation HERE- ‘Down the long lane’. This morning I opened the late-night email I’ve been half dreading for at least 18 months: “I need to let you know that your mum is not too well… her dementia has deteriorated.  She had not been eating well and not been taking her medication for the dementia and is in a very confused state…” F*ck! There’s no other response. I feel sick. And kinda helpless. I’m in Australia, with a son who’s just started his final year of school, a home to run which includes a cat, a self-employed performing business to take care of, and Pilates clients to teach every week as well. Plus my interstate beloved ‘H’ to connect with regularly. I look at my diary, flicking pages back and forth. Can I cancel everything to jump on a plane? Is that the best idea? For …

REBLOG: ‘An Open Letter to Victims and Family Members of Future US Mass Shootings’

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Originally posted on Life in the Boomer Lane:
Dear Future Victims and Family Members,  I realize that, while I am grieving for the people who died in Las Vegas, as well as for those who loved them, I must also reserve room for all of you who will have been the victims and loved ones of victims of mass shootings to come. After all, we have a pretty strong track record of this kind of thing. We average one mass killing per day in the US. The same day that the massacre in Las Vegas occurred, three people were shot and killed at the University of Kansas. Another two were injured. It’s a given that you, the future victims and family of victims of mass shootings, will someday, sooner or later, be impacted.  It’s also a given that, when that occurs, people will grieve. They will grieve for you, or you will greive for others. CNN may or may not cover the particular mass shooting that has affected you, as it will depend on the…

Passing through the Pillars of Doubt, as they whisper

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Writers & readers Obviously, we’re all writers here. And readers. Some of us are new bloggers, others have multiple thousands of Followers, free e-book downloads available, and perhaps speaking engagements on the Writers Festival circuit. I’d love all those things, I’ll admit it. In fact, I want them. I do. I’d enjoy them, I’m fairly sure I’d be good at them, plus I love to travel and meet new people. So why am I not there yet? I’m 51; I’m leaving it all a bit late huh? Well here come 3 clear reasons… What keeps us from the success we want? Now regular readers of this blog know I’m a theatre performer and dancer. Not as in ‘Look-at-me-up-on-stage-doing-pirouettes’, but as in ‘I have to go worship on the dance floor to the goddesses and gods of Life, Love, Passion, and Release, using my sweat, tears, heart, body, mind and soul’– just your average free ‘n’ wild 5Rhythms dance class attitude. Last weekend I did an Intensive: Friday eve, Sat 1-7, Sun 11-5. Lotsa dancing. I can’t …

Blog tales for the Over 50s with positive ageing, dating & relationships

Planning with teenage son No. 46

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Me: Remember I’m going to Perth for a week’s work tomorrow, which means you can’t stay home here alone, you gotta go back to Dad’s. Him: Mum, I’m nearly 18, I can look after myself… Me: You’re not 18! You only just turned 17; you’re still too young. PAUSE Him: I’m 17 and a half actually. Me: [counting months on my fingers] OK, you’re 17 and 4 months… LONG PAUSE Him: Well, in my mind I’m already 30, so what’s your point Mum?  

“Roses are red/Violets are blue/Online romance update:/I’m so glad that I met you”

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Dearest H- I know you love these ‘Cinnamon Sweetie’ buns, dontcha? If I’d met you at a party somewhere, I’d have seen that you too wore a thin but effective layer of protection, like a brown paper bag. I’d have noticed it was fragile, yet also strong. I’d have wondered what hid inside. But now I know. Or rather, I’ve begun to discover. And thus we continue to unravel each other, past the thin edges, sometimes a bit burnt, or a little brittle. Circling round, through the spices and sugar, with the odd grain of salt. Spiralling closer, moving deeper in. Slowly but surely, just like a Snail likes. 1 more sleep; see you at the airport xx [The story so far: Met online. Emailed and sent comics & stories back and forth for 3 months Texted, but no phone calls (although we did send various selfies) Met outside Flinders St train station in Melbourne, Dec 21 Have been flying to see each other approx once a month ever since, for 5-6 days The longest gap …

I just spent 30 mins fighting with my smartphone, & met an Elf

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The Scene: Palm trees swaying, blue sky shining, ridiculous rainbow-coloured birds squawking, plus me, dozing in bed in Australia, in that moment before being fully conscious. Me: Mmmmmmmm, I think I’m awake. Evil Elf Who Lives In My Brain And Synced To My Smartphone (now known as EVIE): What time is it? Better check your phone. Me: Nah, today’s Sunday, and I’m having a tech-free morning. EVIE: What!? When did you decide that?? Dumb idea. Just check your phone. Me: No. I’m simply going to lie here, listening to the birds. PAUSE EVIE: How hot d’you reckon it is? Maybe you should check the weather app? Me: NO. PAUSE EVIE: Maybe you got a late text from ’17’, and he needs picking up soon? Or what if ‘H’ sent something romantic/sexy first thing? Me: True. But they’ll still be there after I’ve had a pot of peppermint tea and meditated. I just want a peaceful tech-free hour. EVIE: An hour! But… but… don’t you need to check your WordPress stats? Me: Nah. It’s Sunday, and …

Blog tales for the Over 50s with positive ageing, dating & relationships

Living with teenage son No. 33

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Him: I hate it when you wear your hair in bunches like that. Me: Deal with it dude [*rolling my eyes]. LATER Me [rushing in from verandah where I’ve been reading quietly]: Oh my god, did you see that? A bird nearly flew into my head!? Him [without looking up from his book]: I told you, it’s that hairstyle, it makes you a target.  

How I climbed a small mountain, did something slightly ‘illegal’, & created the sacred

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I chewed my quinoa and baked veg salad looking up at her; in 2 hours from now, it would start. After 16 years of no access, 500 locals had registered for ‘The Chinny Charge’, a 7km run/walk up our tiny but omnipresent Mount Chincogan, near Byron Bay. The queue to collect our numbers was long, and you could feel the buzz of excitement; even Colin, who won the first ever Chinny Charge in 1967 with a time of 38 minutes and a $20 bar tab prize, was enthusiastic (in that utterly laid-back, short-phrased Australian country way) “Stick to the rules, so we can hopefully do it again next year: wear shoes, don’t litter, stick to the path, and no fighting.” [Fighting? I’m going to be struggling just to breathe aren’t I? What exactly went on in the olde days round here??] Yup, I’m happy to agree to all that. The tiny mountain is on private property, so unless the landowners give specific permission (which they do a few times a year to local  school groups), …

Blog tales for the Over 50s with positive ageing, dating & relationships

Planning with teenage son

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Him: One more week of school then I’m on holidays for a month. Me: [In hopeful tone] But we’re still doing fortnight on/fortnight off aren’t we? Him: Not a chance Mum! At Dad’s I have to live on cereal all day; being here is like staying at some kind of foodie resort… I ain’t going anywhere…  

Tackling the mountain, 200 steps at a time

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We love our small mountain ‘Mount Chinny’. My son and I can see her from our verandah, keeping guard over our cute country town near Byron Bay, and she figures in many local photos: Supposedly, she’s the cap of the volcano ‘Mount Warning’, which blew her off millennia ago; you can see that parent mountain in the far distance: The base of Mt Chinny is on private land though, so access for the general public is restricted. But this Saturday, all that is going to change: 500 lucky entrants are going to compete in ‘The Chinny Charge’, which was last run 16 years ago, and won by a sugar cane cutter in his bare feet! I bought son ’17’ his entry ticket in the race, then realized I could just walk up it like other sane old people, and bought myself one too. I’ve launched into a heavy training regime. Not. I drive to the steepest hill around here, which leads to a disused water tower, and walk up it, listening to loud Australian hip hop. …