#268: The Sweet Smell of Age

Who smells better?  Young people or older folks?

I read that headline today in the Globe and Mail and thought Gaaaagh...another reason why I don’t want to get any older!  An item by Wendy Leung was reporting on the results of a recent study conducted the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia. The research, involving 41 young, middle, and older aged individuals, set out to see if it is possible to detect age by smell alone.   

Falling into line with popular perception, I immediately guessed that stinkier smells would identify the older research subjects.  But I was wrong!  The older subjects had a distinctive odour, but it was described as “neutral”.  Of the three groups, the young were the smelliest.

Whew!  At least that is one aspect of aging we won’t have to worry about.  But first we need to identify the factors that account for this phenomenon.  I don’t know about you, but I am all for smelling as neutral as possible as I age, so I would have liked more analysis.  In the absence of this in depth investigation, I've had to do some speculating on my own.  I think old people smell better because they:

• experience less stress and therefore sweat less.
• have more time to bathe and shower
• make a concerted effort to avoid the smelly old-person stereotype
• have more than the usual supply of cologne and bath salts, gifts from their uninspired children
• change their socks and underwear regularly

(This last observation triggered an olfactory memory that supports the recent MCSCP findings.  While hiking in New Zealand, our party of four older adults shared a bunk room after four days strenuous hiking without access to showers. Still, the room didn’t smell too bad.  It might even have been described as "neutral".  Then it filled up with four more hikers, all young men.  Instant Eau de Locker Room.  But we weren’t their parents: we couldn’t say anything.  We could only open the windows, adopt mouth-breathing techniques, and go to sleep.)

Who smells better?  I had the proof all along.....

  

#266: Meanwhile, in the Garden

While appreciating that he knows his way around a lawn mower, I recognize that my husband Bruce cannot distinguish a pansy from a petunia. And he has no intention of learning.  That is fine with me -- I am happy to be the family gardener.

So it was me out there early this morning turning on the sprinklers. Southern Ontario is in the grip of a drought, and because I no longer rush out the door at 8:30, I could do something about it.  (Time to water the flower beds -- who knew that would be one of the benefits of retirement?)

Soon I was extracting dandelions, cutting deadwood from the rose bush and spraying the brick walk with horticultural vinegar to keep down weeds.  I noticed a little toad, the resident chipmunk, our cardinal family and a gang of grackles.  Gardening, for me, is addictive.  I'll just yank out one more bit of bindweed .....oh, look at you, you poor dry thing....I must transplant those ferns......

Bruce would have been in and out of there in a flash.  Sprinkler on. Done.

I did eventually stop, however.  Transplanting ferns would have taken too much time -- time that I couldn't afford.   My sister-in-law Toni was arriving from Edmonton, and since I was her chauffeur I didn't want to be late on my very first middle-of-the-day airport pickup.

The gardening could wait.  I had more important things to do.
 

#265: It Takes Two

No one who works ever invites people to dinner on a Monday (not unless Monday is a day off), but retirees can invite guests any time.

My husband has just made a big point of mentioning this, adding that we could not have pulled off last night's dinner-on-the-deck, the first of the season, and for company, without both of us pitching in. But some of us pitched with more ability than others.

Bruce may think otherwise,  but he was largely responsible for the dinner's success.  He marinated and grilled the chicken, made the rice, baked a pan of brownies, vacuumed the family room and washed the kitchen floor.  For my part,  I turned up late in the afternoon and did what I do best:  assemble things. I made a salad, set out some grapes and cheese, organized a simple dessert and cooked the asparagus.  I also set the table, but it was just another job  that required no talent.

Our first outdoor meal of the season was a success thanks to good food, good company and balmy outdoor temperatures.   At 10:30, we were still on the deck finishing the last of the wine.  Our guests (who are not retired) were impressed.  We were impressed.  We could do this again!

Weekday guests?  No problem -- as long as the same job-sharing arrangement applies.
    

 

#264: It Depends

Yesterday I admired a friend’s sunglasses, and she whipped them off to reveal a second pair of glasses with clear lenses underneath.

“They are Fitovers”, she said, waving the sunglasses and naming the brand, “but I call them my Depends.”

Good for her.  You might as well laugh about the “assistive devices” that make the aging process more comfortable.

I confessed to her that I have lost two pairs of expensive Fitovers.  But since mine were not as nice looking as hers, (“old lady glasses” is what my daughter called them), perhaps it was no accident that I laid them down somewhere and walked off.  If I had thought to give my wraparound sunglasses a pet name, there might have been more love in my love/hate relationship with them. 

But perhaps all that is really needed to boost Fitovers' cool factor is an image makeover.  In fact, a search of the web reveals that this has already happened in Australia,  with a Fitover TV advert that brings new meaning to the idea of "protection".  Who wouldn't want to wear these sunglasses? 

And speaking of "protection", I see that the advertising moguls are also having a go at Depends, finessing the brand and making it seem more acceptable to discerning older consumers.  Trying to get away from the “adult diaper” image, the new slogan is “Looks and fits like underwear. Protects like nothing else."  There are new models too.  Goodbye June Allyson, hello Flirty Model sashaying down the street and shaking her long hair and her padded booty. 

I was a bit concerned about youngsters Isabelle Brasseur and PJ Stock as Depends’ spokes models, however.

 

Stock's disposable jockeys

Too far, too much and too unbelievable is what I thought.  Then I did an online search and discovered what they don’t tell you in the commercial.  These two are wearing their Depends to show that men and women living with “below the waist” cancers can wear sort-of-sexy “underwear”, too.

Who knows if the prostate cancer market will care one way or the other, but at least I can stop feeling embarrassed for Isabelle and PJ! 

#263: Timeless

Does it mean that you are really retired when you discover that you have gone all day without a watch? And you don't really care....?

And yes, I had my cell phone, but ask anyone over 65 -- a cell phone does not equal a watch.  (The phone wasn't on, anyway.)

If I had needed the time, I would likely have asked someone -- someone wearing a watch..

#262: Chickens Coming Home...

A friend of mine will soon be dealing with a couple of family health concerns that could very well be simultaneous: her husband’s back surgery and the birth of a grandchild.  Contemplating the impact of these two events, she admitted, “I don’t know what I would do if I were still working”.

There is no doubt that one of the benefits of retirement is the freedom to support family members as their lives present changes and challenges.  Sometimes the kids or grandkids need help, or a spouse is ill, but more often, it seems the retiree is parenting their own elderly parent.  I estimate that half the women my age are what I term “good daughters”, but there are plenty of “good sons”, too, who (among other things) make numerous visits, even out of town, to keep tabs on Mom or Dad. 

My “good daughter” days are over, but I have friends who are in the thick of it, and I am filled with admiration for their selflessness.  They don’t think twice about what needs to be done—they just do it and they hang in there as long as they need to. 

I know they are not so crass as to consider that they are setting a wonderful example for their own children.   But it is true, that while supporting one's elderly parents is the proper, loving thing to do, it may eventually also pay off.  Because someday—because they they love us and because we may not have screwed up too badly as parents and grandparents -- we hope that our kids will be there for us.  They will have seen us in the role of good sons and daughters, so when the time comes, they will know how it’s done. 

But please, God, not too soon.   

#261: Hello....... My name is ........

Does one of the good things about retirement include the possibility that you may be at home in the middle of the day to take calls from “technical service specialists” who want to help you with your problematic Microsoft programs?

I guess it depends on how much you want to tease them with coy questions and time-wasting asides.

Or how much pleasure you derive from telling them to take their technical service to the dark side of the moon....