Dinged up and loving it

This week was our golf group’s Halloween tournament. I made cookies and bagged them up so everyone could grab and go. The cookies were a big hit, which is good, because I’m not the most social person on the planet, and maybe I got some good will points.

The cookie biz is a fun hobby if you’ve got a place to off-load them. I started after the first time I had cancer in 1999. As I was recovering, I thought, I need to try something that isn’t golf and isn’t work. I saw Martha Stewart baking and decorating these beautiful cookies, and I said, that’s it!

These days, I have tubs of cookie cutters, sanding sugars, piping bags and other supplies. In some ways, it’s similar to my woodburning hobby. Neither one is hard to do, but they’re both time-consuming. But that’s what I like … gets me out of my own head.

I was on the way to play golf one day last week, when a truck pulled out in front of me presumably because he couldn’t stand being behind another truck for another second. Something about that transaction resulted in the spewing of rocks, which hit the windshield of my brand-new car.

As my mother used to say, I can’t have nice things.

Anyway, the result was two tiny dings. My insurance company paid to repair them – no deductible applied. The dings are sealed and safe and barely noticeable, but I still see them, of course. Honestly, as a recovering perfectionist, they don’t bother me. It’s just a car. I wasn’t injured. We all get dinged up in the end.

I’m surprised and happy I didn’t go all psycho because my pretty car got a boo-boo. I have come a long way. I attribute my progress to retirement. Aging. At some point, you just can’t hang onto that stuff.

Speaking of aging and dings, a close friend of mine is getting her face done. You know, injectables and all that. She has done it before with fantastic results. I was happy for her then, and I’m happy for her now. She’s had her share of life’s unwanted gifts, and a subtle tightening of the face lifted her spirits immeasurably.

But I do wonder if I’m going to be the only one left who looks my age. I squandered some time the other day looking at before and after pictures, and it’s impressive stuff. I even looked pictures of women with gray hair who decided to go back to dying it.

It seems to me if you have the money and the will, you can easily look 10 years younger. It was tempting for a minute or two, but I actually like how I’ve aged – gray hair, dings and all. I care more about keeping my body in reasonably good shape so I can continue to enjoy outdoor activities. I played golf earlier this week with a 92-year-old man who walked the course at a brisk pace.

My role model!

All in all, I’m exceedingly grateful my back is cooperating. A bad back is a big ding. I rarely have pain, but if I do, all I take is Advil or Tylenol. But then I’m quite faithful to my daily stretching regime. One of the women in my golf group has a similar diagnosis as mine (herniated disc, spinal stenosis). She said it never occurred to her to stretch. She said that’s what pain killers are for.

I told her about John Sarno’s book, Healing Back Pain. I’ve written about this before. He believed a lot of pain is the result of repressed anger and other emotions. After reading the book, I worked through some lifelong issues. I believe releasing all that baggage, along with my stretches, helped me recover from what was sometimes debilitating back pain.

For me, the key was forgiveness. But it took me a while to figure out the most important person to forgive was myself.

My golf acquaintance seemed receptive to the concept of the mind-body connection. I saw her yesterday and said, “How’s your back?” She said, fine, I just popped a (insert name of pill here).

I guess everyone has to find their way own through the valley of dings.