Stenosis — “a narrowing or constriction of the diameter of a bodily passage,” according to Webster’s — has upended lives on both sides of our family. The matriarchs are in trouble, but it’s the slow and constant threat you wouldn’t notice for years until you did. Until your nerves stopped working or your heart stopped responding like it should. Narrowing . . . a hidden peril of aging. And it can happen anywhere. Your back, your heart, and your brain. All those precious caverns that hold the space for the stuff of life to flow.
There are some sex differences, and both my mom and mother-in-law’s conditions are more common in women than men. One wonders if that’s because even our internal organs cave to the pressures to take up less space. Both the literal and metaphoric pressures happen more often to older people, too.
If we are not careful, aging is a narrowing. A narrowing of your body, your life, and your world. Often your world view. I recently toured assisted living communities. Fox News blared from a lot of rooms, but so did CNN. Everyone needs a point of view to cling to, a narrowing of the choices we face and the activities we do. Our thoughts return to obsession, fixation. Aging is a hungry brain that can only see one thing, only what is most immediate in this spacetime and in our dreams.
![A road tunnel brightly lit with rainbow colored neon lights A road tunnel brightly lit with rainbow colored neon lights](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fef4e3d18-3930-4f98-9acb-1a73ef322195_2667x4000.jpeg)
I remember when my grandma forgot she took her coffee with cream and sugar. One visit to St. Louis the breakfast drink situation was normal. In three months when I came back, she was just putting in sugar. I asked my mom if this was for a specific health reason. My mom said Grandma had just forgotten. I wondered how you could forget something so central to your identity for 89 years. Coffee and cigarettes in a yellow gingham kitchen, that’s who my grandma was. Maybe it was originally white before all the cigarettes. At some point her doctor got her to quit, although I'm not sure how or why. Maybe she simply forgot that about herself, too.
In yoga, which I regularly do on a quarterly basis though I think about doing at least weekly, my favorite parts are supported backbends, where you get to stretch out the whole front of yourself but use props and such, so you’re not killing yourself or scared to fall on your head. I get to luxuriate in the opening of all those muscles that I hold so close and tightly as I hunch over my phone, my keyboard, and my kitchen counters. Suddenly they get their moment in the sun.
But what will prepare my brain for what's next? Maybe I should take a class. I want to spin some pottery and see what that’s like. Or tango. Or learn to fish really well. I enjoy lakes. Maybe I want a lake house. Maybe I want a lake house in the mountains with a view and a cute town down the road with good pizza and a brewery. Maybe I can even walk to town: build-in a reason to take a long walk at least a few days a week. Maybe real estate dreams are the answer. Surely dreams are.
Food for Thought
I never thought I would write this, but I have lost my mojo in the kitchen. I am experiencing a peak lack of inspiration, and I am struggling to even think of restaurants I want to visit. So I will share a tip passed to me by my friend Melinda Wenner Moyer who writes Is My Kid the Asshole? Melinda is a wonderful cook in addition to being a kickass journalist.
Melinda introduced me to Hacker Birthday Cake, in which you spend your time on making gorgeous fillings and toppings but use a Duncan Hines cake mix—or whatever other brand you fancy. I found it really took the pressure off cake-making, and turned out super good! Buttercream works here, too, if you want to sub it for the whipped cream.
Hacker Lemon Cake
1 Duncan Hines white cake mix, prepared to instruction in two 8” round cake pans
Lemon Curd
4 egg yolks
2 large lemons, zested and juiced
⅔ cups sugar
Pinch salt
6 Tbsp butter
Whipped Cream
2 cups heavy whipping cream
¼ cup powdered sugar
Sprinkles and icing tubes to decorate
To make the curd, set water simmering in the base of a double boiler. Thoroughly combine the eggs, lemon zest and juice, sugar, and pinch of salt in the bowl of the double boiler and place over the water, stirring nearly constantly until the mixture thickens up and coats the back of a spoon. Take the mixture off the heat. Add in the butter bit by bit and whisk until completely incorporated. Let the curd cool in a bowl or jar in the fridge for a couple of hours. You can cover the top with plastic film, letting the film touch the top of the custard so a skin does not form.
When you’re ready to assemble the cake, first whip the cream using a hand mixer. Whip cream on low for one minute then increase the speed to high. Whisk until cream is thick and forms pleasing peaks, maybe six to eight minutes more. When desired texture is reached, sift in sugar on low. Load up a piping bag with half of the cream.
Place ¼ cup of the lemon curd in the center of a cake plate and spread into a six-inch-diameter thin circle. Put the first layer of cake on the smear. Cover the cake in one half of the remaining curd. Pipe a line of cream on the edge of the layer. Add the second layer of cake and cover it smoothly with the remaining lemon curd.
Pipe a thick layer of cream around the base of the cake and around the top. Decorate, serve with a dollop of the remaining whipped cream, and party!