Rich's Diet Secret

Betsey: Jane, the book The Year of Magical Thinking, about a woman losing her husband, just came up as a possibility for our book club. (I still like saying that–makes me feel mainstream, like I’m doing what other people do.) I’ve heard it’s rather bleak, but very honest and compelling. And it made me think, yet again, how precious our husbands are and how much I want to make the most of my time with this incredible man God has given me to love and cherish.

Do you and Rich ever talk about “what’s next”? Fritz and I had a wonderful conversation on our patio last weekend, in the shade, about everything from committing to taking good care of ourselves physically to how cool it would be to have grandbabies to long-term financial considerations. We’ve started to set some specific goals. And really, I think we need to be praying about these things more.

It’s scary when you hear the gloom-and-doom predictions in the media for our generation. But at the same time, where does that basic, bedrock “my times are in Your hands” affirmation come in?

Jane: Betsey, it's funny you bring this up because just this very morning, Rich and I talked about life . . . and death. Rich recently lost some weight (I'm so jealous) because of his family health history—diabetes, heart problems, etc. Rich mentioned ever so gently (weight is a trigger issue for me, so he tiptoed in, wise man that he is) that he worries some about me, because of my extra pounds. Instead of being annoyed or hurt by his comment, I took it to heart. You see, we want to be around for each other for a long time!

The truth is, I worry about losing Rich sometimes. And I don't want to take him for granted. So we try to make the most of our time—especially now with our empty nest—by going on these adventurous cross-country motorcycle trips, or visiting our out-of-state family, or even just enjoying quiet moments on our deck, savoring coffee (in his case, green tea!) and the creation surrounding us.

I like to make plans. But then I remember I need to add to them, “If it's your will.” Because life can stop on a dime. So I suppose this “my times are in your hands” might include seizing each day and squeezing the joy out of it, yet being circumspect about the future.

Betsey: So what’s Rich’s diet secret?

Jane: Well, actually, I believe he said it had something to do with “eating less.” What a concept!

Betsey: You're right--men can lose essentially by, well, deciding to. My late dad, who was what the old folks used to call a “character,” simply decided he was going to eat nothing but chicken and broccoli and slim down that way. And he did, to the point of looking as lean as Lance Armstrong. Women, alas, are a different story.

Jane: Trust me, I know that story. I wrote that story.

Betsey: I admire the way you and Rich just do stuff. It’s so easy to let the dailiness of life get in the way. And I want us to feel good and energetic while we’re doing stuff. It’s hard to imagine in the midst of these dog days--having energy!-–but what you say about the trust, the joy, and the planning all makes sense.

Jane: And don't forget the motorcycle!

How do you keep the “dailiness” of life at bay? What ways do you squeeze joy out of each day—even in the not-so-joyful times?

Gray Matter

Jane: It was a desperate situation: My grays were sprouting everywhere. As I settled into my stylist's chair, I sighed with relief, knowing that soon I'd look like that more youthful version of me.

When I was a child, I watched my mom slather stinky Clairol Number-Whatever on her head, wrap her hair in plastic, and set the timer for 20 minutes. Her routine did nothing to excite me about the prospect of growing older. In fact, I once rather self-righteously told Mom, “I'm going to age naturally.” She simply smiled.

And then, well, I did . . . for a while. But as more youthful coworkers populated my work environment and my product targeted an increasingly younger demographic, I found it surprisingly easy to toss aside that childhood arrogance. I surrendered my hair virginity to the eager, knowing hands of my stylist, and after the initial shock over what I'd done passed, I realized I'd never again be the same. Abstain from the delights of Redken? I had no willpower. I became hooked on that root-covering joy juice, that shade-of-the-month stuff Shelley paints on my head.

But now I'm not working anymore; the perceived pressures that motivated me to transform my gray hair are non-issues. So does narcissism keep me planted in that stylist's chair every six weeks? Or just a healthy desire to look good?

Betsey: I think having great hair gives us ladies a sense of still being “in the game.” Coloring your hair is the single easiest thing you can do to look younger. There’s a woman I see on the train who’s probably my age and looks much older--because her hair is dull grey. Grey hair also has an unattractive, wiry texture and is probably harder to style. I pay a mint to get mine done at a good salon, but I love my colorist and feel it’s worth it, even though the magazines I have to read while I sit with foil on my head are usually pretty crummy.

Jane: Oh, I look forward to reading those tabloid magazines! But Betsey, do you know what your true color is now? I suspect I'm totally gray.

Betsey: I actually have no idea. For years, I was a natural platinum blonde. When I had a kid, it became ashy. Eventually I started doing DYI color, which my daughter insists made my hair look “brown.” Then I put myself in Carli the Colorist’s capable gloved hands, and I sort of revel in the artificiality of it all. Having glimpsed a few “natural” hairs sneaking in, I have a feeling it would be white, which is somewhat unsettling, but the same thing happened to my mother and she now has beautiful silver hair, all hers.

Jane: Interesting! My mom still continues to color her hair a medium chestnut. That's what I used to be . . . I think.

Betsey: Carli told me when you go light blonde and you ARE that way naturally, your hair will still bleach out.

Jane: And as you age, it's more flattering to go with a softer, lighter shade . . . less harsh color to contrast with those crows feet!

I once toyed with the idea of going “natural.” I admire women who boldly gray and stay that way. I find it brave. And color's a luxury in this current economy; if I had to cut it out for financial reasons, I would.

I'm really not high-maintenance. I don't get my nails or eyebrows done, go for facials or Botox, or buy high-end skincare products. So hair coloring is my one indulgence, my one nod to our youth-oriented culture.

Betsey: I always think of Jo March in Little Women and how her luxuriant chestnut tresses were her “one beauty.” I admit, I like my hair.

Jane: So in essence, hair was Jo's one vanity—and ours too? The truth is, I really don't want to look older if I can help it. And this--the coloring--helps it.

But there's another motivation that rises above vanity. After I stopped working, I asked my husband, Rich, if he thought I should go “color commando.” He loves me as I am—extra pounds and all. He never makes demands about how I should dress or style my hair. But to my surprise, he told me he liked the way I looked with colored hair. That settled my gray matter, because I believe it's really important to pay attention to what my spouse says about that kind of thing.

Betsey: True, although I have heard of women whose husbands loved their hair long, so they (the wives) wore it cascading over their shoulders way past the time they should have cut it. But it’s interesting about Fritz, at least--when I ask him “how does this look?” of course he’ll always say “Good,” or something else positive. BUT when he volunteers a comment--ah, then I pay attention. (Although the poor guy: Sometimes if he says, “I like your hair like that,” I snap back, “What, you didn’t like it before?”)

Jane: Ultimately, I think we need to make sure our focus on covering up what's happening on the outside isn't more about covering up something unattractive on the inside. Because in the end, the caliber of our hearts is more important than the color on our heads!

Betsey: I agree, but my heart feels better when my head is freshly colored. And I think that’s okay.

Do you color your grays? Have you ever transitioned from using color to going naturally gray? Do you think it's important for a woman to look as youthful as possible, particularly in the workplace?

Welcome to Our World

Betsey: One of the unexpected joys of moving into our blue house on the “hill” three years ago was reconnecting with my friend and now neighbor, Jane. Jane and I have a lot in common--daughters, dogs, a love of language, a certain emotional honesty. We’re both White Sox fans bleeding black and white. We love talking house stuff. And, of course, we share a pedigree (continuing the dog theme) in Christian publishing.

Not long after we moved, our daughter got married. So: what was next for me and Fritz? I’d been thinking about this anyway, about the broad contours of my life, what was really important. One of the reasons we “upsized” when we moved was to have a larger home for hospitality (and, Lord willing, grandchildren!). I realized that friendship, both with other couples and with women, really mattered to me, and now was the season for cultivation. My church, my home, my own flitty creative impulses--all these were calling me. And I think they were calling Jane, too.

Jane: Definitely! It's funny, after I retired from Christian publishing almost three years ago, I wondered if I'd ever write again. I felt stale, dried up, overwhelmed by the tough season of elder-care issues Rich and I went through last year, culminating in his dad's passing and his mom's move into assisted living. Bimonthly breakfasts with Betsey became that bright spot on my calendar. I knew I could vent about the nuts and bolts of life--issues such as the challenges of parenting adult (and newly married) children, caring for aging parents, dealing with my own aging, loving my husband well, even finding adventure and renewed purpose in midlife--and Betsey would understand. Plus there was the added joy of discovering how much we also liked engaging the larger world of ideas. I found myself feeling "creative" again--much to my delight!

The truth is, I can be a Lady Who Lunches, but I'd rather cultivate the riches that come from friendships that dig beneath the surface. These are the ones that inquire and encourage and inspire, the ones that help you feel Not So Alone on this wild ride called life. And that's exactly what happens when Betsey and I gather to feast on breakfast goodies and explore the external and internal contours of our lives.

Betsey: This blog, then, really grows out of our regular breakfasts and other times of lengthy, caffeine-fueled conversation. One thing I’ve realized over the years is, if you think something, chances are others do, too. So this is a conversation between two friends--but we want others to “listen in” and add their comments. So welcome to the world of betsey:jane!