The joys of growing old far outweigh the sorrows. If you are a faithful follower of my blog you know I frequently poke fun at myself about growing old. It's a hoot. Every day is a new adventure.
Remember a couple of days ago, I started the microwave and forgot to put my coffee mug in to warm up. Well, today I put a coffee mug into the microwave, it warmed the coffee, but I obviously got distracted because I never returned to the oven to retrieve it. It was late afternoon when I discovered the mug full of cold coffee, sullenly sitting where I had left it in the morning. (Believe it or not, I re-heated it, and gulped it down to the last sip.)
My growing old comrades, mostly my sisters, and I often commiserate over all our antics. And have a good laugh of two.
However, over the last couple of days, I've had two good 'growing old' laughs from unexpected sources...my daughters. One posted on Facebook that she sent some blueberry pancake mix and bottle of syrup home with one of her son's that recently moved out and added in capital letters (I might add) that perhaps she was turning into her mother. Of course she is!
Then, earlier in the week I was having a conversation with another daughter, and as our conversation was winding down, she interjected that she had had the 'hand experience'.
Not sure what she was getting at, I inquired what 'hand experience'? She related to me the story I had told years ago about how I had put my hand into a sleeve, but that my mother's hand came out. Even today I remember what a mind blowing, utterly shocking day that was. Apparently, my daughter had just had that experience. I posted under Blueberry Pancake Mix daughter her sister's experience.
So, later today I was not really surprised when Blueberry Pancake Mix daughter posted on Facebook that my hand has been coming out of her sleeves for quite a while.
Now, I'm not exactly why these two stories brought me such joy, but they did. I guess it's because I have come to realize I've passed the torch. They (my daughters) are going carry their torches into their growing old stages, with all kinds of shadows from their past. Like, sharing food with their 'starting out on their own', 'money strapped' children, and, accepting wrinkled hands and crows feet. They come from good stock, so I know they will walk the miles ahead with grace, style, wonderment, down right amazement and good humor. Lots and lots of good humor.
Growing old is only a chore or burden if you choose it to be. Growing old is all about attitude.
"Laugh and the world laughs with you,
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing and the hills will answer;
Sigh it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care."
Snippet from Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
"And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?"
Snippet from How Did You Die? by Edmund Vance Cooke
How we grow old is all in the genes, baby, it's all in the genes.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
Hot Cross Buns
Last week when I went shopping my first stop was the day old bread rack. Sometimes there are some pretty terrific bargains there. Lots of breakfast goodies, and some very expensive bread at half price. Boy, do I stock up.
Stopping by there, I discovered a rare treasure...a container of Hot Cross Buns. Yummm. Hot Cross Buns are to Easter, what Fruit Cake is to Christmas. Both, however, seem to be an 'acquired' taste.
I'll eat any kind of Fruit Cake, it's kind of hard to screw up that recipe. Although I do prefer mine to have a good helping of rum in it...not the rum flavoring, but rum...a good, healthy cup of rum. Ohhhhh buddy!
However, Hot Cross Buns are more tricky. Therefore I must confess, I've only had one that was 'melt in your mouth delicious', and that was when I was a young teen and was invited to a friends home for brunch after the Easter Sunday church service. Up to that time I had never even seen a Hot Cross Bun, and only knew about them via the little rhyme
Hot Cross Buns,
Hot Cross Buns,
One a penny, Two a penny,
Hot Cross Buns.
Oh, those buns looked so inviting, all nestled together, just out of the oven. And, they smelled heavenly. Each one had a white icing cross etched across the top. The hostess broke them apart and passed the plate around the table. I debated about taking one, trying one, (should I not like it), would be difficult to dispose of, and further, having it left on my plate could be embarrassing and offending to my friend's mother.
Curiosity, over rode fear and I took my first bite. It was not cake-like, nor was it bread like, it was sort of in between. And it was delicious. Rather than having colored Citron Fruit in it, these had candied cherries and pineapple. Is your mouth watering? Mine is. I could have devoured every single one of those buns all by myself.
Since that first encounter, I have spent most of my adult life trying to find those wonderful Hot Cross Buns. I've found NONE! So far, not ONE to come even close. But, I keep trying.
Don't get my wrong, I 'like' the ones I find in various stores, and will heartily down them to the last smidgen, however, the real Hot Cross Buns continue to elude me. Somewhere...out there...is that perfect Hot Cross Bun...someday I will find you, won't I?
Stopping by there, I discovered a rare treasure...a container of Hot Cross Buns. Yummm. Hot Cross Buns are to Easter, what Fruit Cake is to Christmas. Both, however, seem to be an 'acquired' taste.
I'll eat any kind of Fruit Cake, it's kind of hard to screw up that recipe. Although I do prefer mine to have a good helping of rum in it...not the rum flavoring, but rum...a good, healthy cup of rum. Ohhhhh buddy!
However, Hot Cross Buns are more tricky. Therefore I must confess, I've only had one that was 'melt in your mouth delicious', and that was when I was a young teen and was invited to a friends home for brunch after the Easter Sunday church service. Up to that time I had never even seen a Hot Cross Bun, and only knew about them via the little rhyme
Hot Cross Buns,
Hot Cross Buns,
One a penny, Two a penny,
Hot Cross Buns.
Oh, those buns looked so inviting, all nestled together, just out of the oven. And, they smelled heavenly. Each one had a white icing cross etched across the top. The hostess broke them apart and passed the plate around the table. I debated about taking one, trying one, (should I not like it), would be difficult to dispose of, and further, having it left on my plate could be embarrassing and offending to my friend's mother.
Curiosity, over rode fear and I took my first bite. It was not cake-like, nor was it bread like, it was sort of in between. And it was delicious. Rather than having colored Citron Fruit in it, these had candied cherries and pineapple. Is your mouth watering? Mine is. I could have devoured every single one of those buns all by myself.
Since that first encounter, I have spent most of my adult life trying to find those wonderful Hot Cross Buns. I've found NONE! So far, not ONE to come even close. But, I keep trying.
Don't get my wrong, I 'like' the ones I find in various stores, and will heartily down them to the last smidgen, however, the real Hot Cross Buns continue to elude me. Somewhere...out there...is that perfect Hot Cross Bun...someday I will find you, won't I?
Who and what does the job?
The picture below appeared on my Facebook home page this morning. I have to say it delighted me.
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I think just about any old woman would agree she can't live without the above mentioned items. However, I would add two more items I think are nice to have on hand for emergencies. The first is '3 in 1 Oil', and the second is 'Vasoline Petroleum Jelly'. They are reasonably cheap...well, at least they used to be, and are great for handling just about anything that squeaks.
On the down side, 3 in 1 Oil, tends to be messy, but with it's new container, and long nozzle I find it easily works the jobs in those difficult to reach places. And while the petroleum jelly can eventually leave behind a greasy grey residue, it does stop those hinges from squeaking. On the up side, they are both perfect for 'small' jobs.
WD-40 on the other hand is great for big, big, jobs. For instance, my garage door developed a squeak that could waken the dead. No kidding, you could hear it going up half a block away. The first time I heard it, I confess it terrified me...I almost jumped out of my skin. At first I ran '3 in 1' along the track, it worked for a day or two, but soon the squeak was back, and seemed louder than ever. Can you imagine, I even contemplated calling a repairman to come help?
This was before Frankie moved in. I'm sure she would have had boundless comments, but useless advise. But, at the moment, I was on my own; so I yanked out my ladder, and set it in place halfway along the door's track, then I grabbed the WD-40, ascended the ladder and gave that track a good soaking end to end...not just once...but after waiting a while, I preformed the procedure again.
Then, I raised and lowered the door until the squeaking stopped. Over the years my repair job has works pretty well...most of the time, except during the winter months when the temperature gets below freezing...then the squeak returns. I've solved this problem simply by not opening the garage door during these months.
Now, on to duck tape....OMG...there has never been a better invention. I use it for ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. Anchoring throw rugs to the floor. Attaching a loose downspout to the gutter. Holding stacked cardboard boxes together to make a cheap bookcase. Seaming the cardboard panels together of my make-shift laundry room. (I didn't know how easy is would be to paint over duck tape.) It even seals off cracks in flower pots...making a waterproof seal. I tell ya, it is truly amazing stuff. Oh, and, I love now you can buy it in colors, and 12x12 inch decorative squares. I've seen ads of women making artificial flowers from the stuff, and decorating old purses with a little pizazz. It would not surprise me to one day find kiosks in malls selling nothing but decorative duck tape and booklets with decorating ideas. I'd buy stuff, I swear I would.
Anyway, when the above picture appeared on Facebook this morning, I realized even with all the technological gadgetry, and engineering wonders some very smart, well educated men...and...women, have come up with. It's us old women with a little tape, and a bit of lubrication that keep the world sticking together, and that keep it from squeaking, too.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Stitch and sew
Well, it's down to the wire...the wedding is next Friday evening.
For weeks I've been staring at the 'Turkey Suit' hanging in my closet. Sometimes I got it out and tried different colored blouses with it, and different accessories as well. In the end, it simply went back into the closet.
Yesterday I drug the suit out and tried to decide exactly how I might be able to salvage it to be presentable. I took the shoulder pads out almost as soon as it arrived. I hated the tacky jacket button, and removed that, too. Since the button was only decorative to begin with, I discovered I didn't need to replace it, the inside snap works great.
When I went shopping on Tuesday I purchased a spool of beige thread just to make sure I had enough to do all the necessary alterations...Today, man, I was a buzz, and ready for action. I began with the sleeves, and turned them under a good three inches, and carefully, very c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y measured each sleeve. (Heaven forbid I should make one shorter than the other). The scary part was cutting off the excess material...what if I need it back??????
Once I was happy with the snip-snipping, and the pin-pinning, I began the hand-hand sewing. It has been a long, long time since I did any hand stitching, and I was not happy with the crude results, so three times, I un-stitched the first sleeve (thank goodness I had the foresight to buy a new spool of thread). I guess sewing is sort of like learning to ride a bike, you don't forget, you just have to practice to get the skill back. It took most of the afternoon, but, the sleeves were finally done.
Boy, was I a pooped puppy? You better believe.
Should I tackle shortening the skirt?
I had nothing better to do. Why not?
I throw on the skirt and give an eyeball as to how much I think I'm going to have to turn up the skirt. Ignoring the fact I looked like a turkey, I gave definite, sincere, serious concern to where the new hemline should be. I then, put in some pins, and returned to the mirror. The new line hit exactly at the middle of my knee, right at the bend. Good choice.
Again, I was troubled, I had to whack off several inches of fabric...once gone, I cannot 'undo' the cut. Bravely, and very, very carefully, I measured, folded fabric and pinned. Over and over until I had circled the skirt. I went back to the mirror. Hey...not bad...my legs no longer looked like drum-sticks but actual human legs. Whooo, hooo.
By now it was dark out, I'd not eaten, and I was exhausted. Eating was a far more important project than sewing...so I carefully folded the skirt, gathered my sewing supplies, and put them all on the footstool next to the sofa. I can't tell you what I ate, but after, I can tell you I contemplated finishing the skirt.
Frankie, who had been a silent observer all afternoon gave me a raised eyebrow, and stern expression. "Don't even think about it. You are waaay to tired to sew that skirt tonight.?"
For a few minutes I contemplated her input. I knew she was right. I'm already cranky. On the other hand, I can hear my mother..."You should never sew on Sunday, because when you get to heaven you will have to take out all those stitches with your nose."
Well, I do have several days left to finish this job, oh what the heck, I know I'm going to sew on Sunday...taking stitches out with my nose...how hard can that be?
For weeks I've been staring at the 'Turkey Suit' hanging in my closet. Sometimes I got it out and tried different colored blouses with it, and different accessories as well. In the end, it simply went back into the closet.
Yesterday I drug the suit out and tried to decide exactly how I might be able to salvage it to be presentable. I took the shoulder pads out almost as soon as it arrived. I hated the tacky jacket button, and removed that, too. Since the button was only decorative to begin with, I discovered I didn't need to replace it, the inside snap works great.
When I went shopping on Tuesday I purchased a spool of beige thread just to make sure I had enough to do all the necessary alterations...Today, man, I was a buzz, and ready for action. I began with the sleeves, and turned them under a good three inches, and carefully, very c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y measured each sleeve. (Heaven forbid I should make one shorter than the other). The scary part was cutting off the excess material...what if I need it back??????
Once I was happy with the snip-snipping, and the pin-pinning, I began the hand-hand sewing. It has been a long, long time since I did any hand stitching, and I was not happy with the crude results, so three times, I un-stitched the first sleeve (thank goodness I had the foresight to buy a new spool of thread). I guess sewing is sort of like learning to ride a bike, you don't forget, you just have to practice to get the skill back. It took most of the afternoon, but, the sleeves were finally done.
Boy, was I a pooped puppy? You better believe.
Should I tackle shortening the skirt?
I had nothing better to do. Why not?
I throw on the skirt and give an eyeball as to how much I think I'm going to have to turn up the skirt. Ignoring the fact I looked like a turkey, I gave definite, sincere, serious concern to where the new hemline should be. I then, put in some pins, and returned to the mirror. The new line hit exactly at the middle of my knee, right at the bend. Good choice.
Again, I was troubled, I had to whack off several inches of fabric...once gone, I cannot 'undo' the cut. Bravely, and very, very carefully, I measured, folded fabric and pinned. Over and over until I had circled the skirt. I went back to the mirror. Hey...not bad...my legs no longer looked like drum-sticks but actual human legs. Whooo, hooo.
By now it was dark out, I'd not eaten, and I was exhausted. Eating was a far more important project than sewing...so I carefully folded the skirt, gathered my sewing supplies, and put them all on the footstool next to the sofa. I can't tell you what I ate, but after, I can tell you I contemplated finishing the skirt.
Frankie, who had been a silent observer all afternoon gave me a raised eyebrow, and stern expression. "Don't even think about it. You are waaay to tired to sew that skirt tonight.?"
For a few minutes I contemplated her input. I knew she was right. I'm already cranky. On the other hand, I can hear my mother..."You should never sew on Sunday, because when you get to heaven you will have to take out all those stitches with your nose."
Well, I do have several days left to finish this job, oh what the heck, I know I'm going to sew on Sunday...taking stitches out with my nose...how hard can that be?
Friday, April 5, 2013
Are you the party to whom I wish to be connected?
Okay....I'm a bad, bad person. I think I blogged not long ago how frustrated I was getting with the National No Call List folks, because I was being inundated with all sorts of calls, from early in the morning going well into the early evening.
Starting Monday of this week. Rather than letting these nuisance calls go to my message center, I've actually been answering the calls...and I've been mean, angry, rude, and insistent that I be removed from their calling list immediately. Otherwise, I will report them to the National No Call List Folks, and there will be Hell to pay. I think a couple of times the person on the receiving end of my 'pick-up' had to make a quick run to the bathroom when I was done with my rant, because I sensed I scared the 'you know what out of them'.
Honestly, for years I have tried to be nice to the folks making these calls, and I've spent quite a bit of time taking surveys, listening to spiels, saying no to carpet cleaners, and politely insisting I don't need auto insurance. I realize they are just trying to make a living.
However, over the last several years, I've come to believe, these folks hate their job, you can tell by the lack of enthusiasm in their voice...because they know 99.99% of the people they call are going to say no to whatever it is they are selling. As a result it was harder and harder for me to be nice in return and I simply stopped picking up the phone.
For a while the National No Call List actually seemed to work.
However, over the last couple of weeks I have been inundated with nuisance phone calls. I have been letting them go to voice mail. In the evenings I check to see from whom the calls were coming. Most of them start with the letter V, with a bunch of numbers after them. There is never a message so immediately I've been deleted the call. Yesterday as I was flipping through the numbers I discovered an actual phone number appears seconds after the V number so, when I got another V call today I let it go to my messages and then called the number back. Imagine my surprise when I got a message in return. It said and I quote "this number does not accept incoming calls". Seriously...no joke...I could not leave a message.
What????
This number V does not leave me a message...the telephone number associated with the V number does not accept calls...is this the ultimate oxymoron or what??????? Seriously, think about it. The world's gone mad.
But, here's the thing. Apparently, miraculously, my being a bad, bad person is starting to pay off. Today I have had only one phone call and this has caused me to ponder. Do all telemarketers work from a single list, and is it generated on some kind of inter-related/ telemarketers Internet connection? So that as I started to speak to all these people they did indeed remove me from their Internet connected list, and by so doing, am I eventually going to disappear from the list all together?
I can only hope, I can only hope.
Starting Monday of this week. Rather than letting these nuisance calls go to my message center, I've actually been answering the calls...and I've been mean, angry, rude, and insistent that I be removed from their calling list immediately. Otherwise, I will report them to the National No Call List Folks, and there will be Hell to pay. I think a couple of times the person on the receiving end of my 'pick-up' had to make a quick run to the bathroom when I was done with my rant, because I sensed I scared the 'you know what out of them'.
Honestly, for years I have tried to be nice to the folks making these calls, and I've spent quite a bit of time taking surveys, listening to spiels, saying no to carpet cleaners, and politely insisting I don't need auto insurance. I realize they are just trying to make a living.
However, over the last several years, I've come to believe, these folks hate their job, you can tell by the lack of enthusiasm in their voice...because they know 99.99% of the people they call are going to say no to whatever it is they are selling. As a result it was harder and harder for me to be nice in return and I simply stopped picking up the phone.
For a while the National No Call List actually seemed to work.
However, over the last couple of weeks I have been inundated with nuisance phone calls. I have been letting them go to voice mail. In the evenings I check to see from whom the calls were coming. Most of them start with the letter V, with a bunch of numbers after them. There is never a message so immediately I've been deleted the call. Yesterday as I was flipping through the numbers I discovered an actual phone number appears seconds after the V number so, when I got another V call today I let it go to my messages and then called the number back. Imagine my surprise when I got a message in return. It said and I quote "this number does not accept incoming calls". Seriously...no joke...I could not leave a message.
What????
This number V does not leave me a message...the telephone number associated with the V number does not accept calls...is this the ultimate oxymoron or what??????? Seriously, think about it. The world's gone mad.
But, here's the thing. Apparently, miraculously, my being a bad, bad person is starting to pay off. Today I have had only one phone call and this has caused me to ponder. Do all telemarketers work from a single list, and is it generated on some kind of inter-related/ telemarketers Internet connection? So that as I started to speak to all these people they did indeed remove me from their Internet connected list, and by so doing, am I eventually going to disappear from the list all together?
I can only hope, I can only hope.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Where did the time go?
It seems I lost two blog days. How in the world did that happen? I guess I've been 'puttzing' through life with my head up my (you know where). I'm trying to recall how I spent the last two days.
Let's see. Oh, yeah, Tuesday I went shopping with my neighbor. First time in a long time she was able to have the car on a first Tuesday of the month which just happens to be Senior Discount Day at our favorite store. So, guess where we went? It was a lovely time.
After the debilitating time I had with my outing last week, I definitely took one of my anxiety pills before leaving the house Tuesday. Since I don't take them often, by the time I had the groceries put away, I was sleepier, than Sleepy, in that old Fair Tale. Zorro does not do well when I leave, (maybe I should give him a pill, too)I decided to snuggle with him for a while. I puuuffed up my pillows, got comfy, and immediately fell asleep. I never nap...never. Hours passed. What the heck. Well, so much for Tuesday.
Wednesday...hmmm? Right! I made a quick check of Facebook, and e-mail. Then since it was Bible Study day I spent the morning dusting, vacuuming, and cleaning the bathrooms (gotta keep up the facade I actually give a crap how my house looks). After study, I fixed myself a game hen for dinner, and contemplated whether I should go out and spread newspapers down in my extended garden to kill the grassy areas, and prevent the growth of plants where I don't want them. Contemplating took a couple of hours, just long enough for my game hen to roast. I think you call that procrastination.
I ate.
More contemplating.
I heard it is supposed to rain over the next several days. I KNOW I NEED TO GO SPREAD THOSE PAPERS. Some time ago I bought several bags of the pine pellet cat litter specifically for this job. It expands in size when it gets wet, and I knew if I put the papers down, and scattered the cat litter on top of it, I would not only be killing the grass; the litter, once expanded would prevent the papers from blowing around.
Hmmm. Rain...paper...litter. Rain...paper...litter. Dang it seemed like a tedious
job. Besides that, it was now pushing 7 P of M. Dangity, dang, dang. I know this is the perfect time to do this...shoot.
So, I do.
This morning, with great excitement I throw open the drapes. I'm thinking it will be wet, the robins will be singing their rain song, and all will be right with my world.
Guess what? No rain yet. Now I hear there could be twenty mile an hour wind gusts related to the coming rain. Oh dear, what if the wind arrives first. The litter will not have expanded and become heavy, so the slightest breeze will blow it off the papers. And those papers will blow...well, God knows where.
I'm in a pickle!
Come on rain!!!! You can start any time now.
Speaking of pickles. I wish I had bought some Tuesday. A dill pickle sandwich on rye toast sure sounds good. Sigh.
Let's see. Oh, yeah, Tuesday I went shopping with my neighbor. First time in a long time she was able to have the car on a first Tuesday of the month which just happens to be Senior Discount Day at our favorite store. So, guess where we went? It was a lovely time.
After the debilitating time I had with my outing last week, I definitely took one of my anxiety pills before leaving the house Tuesday. Since I don't take them often, by the time I had the groceries put away, I was sleepier, than Sleepy, in that old Fair Tale. Zorro does not do well when I leave, (maybe I should give him a pill, too)I decided to snuggle with him for a while. I puuuffed up my pillows, got comfy, and immediately fell asleep. I never nap...never. Hours passed. What the heck. Well, so much for Tuesday.
Wednesday...hmmm? Right! I made a quick check of Facebook, and e-mail. Then since it was Bible Study day I spent the morning dusting, vacuuming, and cleaning the bathrooms (gotta keep up the facade I actually give a crap how my house looks). After study, I fixed myself a game hen for dinner, and contemplated whether I should go out and spread newspapers down in my extended garden to kill the grassy areas, and prevent the growth of plants where I don't want them. Contemplating took a couple of hours, just long enough for my game hen to roast. I think you call that procrastination.
I ate.
More contemplating.
I heard it is supposed to rain over the next several days. I KNOW I NEED TO GO SPREAD THOSE PAPERS. Some time ago I bought several bags of the pine pellet cat litter specifically for this job. It expands in size when it gets wet, and I knew if I put the papers down, and scattered the cat litter on top of it, I would not only be killing the grass; the litter, once expanded would prevent the papers from blowing around.
Hmmm. Rain...paper...litter. Rain...paper...litter. Dang it seemed like a tedious
job. Besides that, it was now pushing 7 P of M. Dangity, dang, dang. I know this is the perfect time to do this...shoot.
So, I do.
This morning, with great excitement I throw open the drapes. I'm thinking it will be wet, the robins will be singing their rain song, and all will be right with my world.
Guess what? No rain yet. Now I hear there could be twenty mile an hour wind gusts related to the coming rain. Oh dear, what if the wind arrives first. The litter will not have expanded and become heavy, so the slightest breeze will blow it off the papers. And those papers will blow...well, God knows where.
I'm in a pickle!
Come on rain!!!! You can start any time now.
Speaking of pickles. I wish I had bought some Tuesday. A dill pickle sandwich on rye toast sure sounds good. Sigh.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Mmmm, mmm, mmm
My, oh my. I'm having a gigantic battle with myself this morning. It is so grand and glorious outside this first day of April. My mind, soul and younger self wants to be outside working.
Now that my decorative wall is complete, I want to get out there and move the plants from the planter I want to dismantle. But, my hip still hurts some, and common sense tells me it is a bad idea to be out shoveling. What to do? What to do?
Today I would sell my a-fore mentioned soul to the devil to be in my thirties again.
I never ever worried about breaking a bone, and sore muscles never bothered me, so working out doors has never seemed like work. Physical labor, especially outdoor labor was always fun. Ahhhh, communing with nature. Creepy crawlies, dirt under my fingernails, wet, stained sweat-pants, or even wet stained knees...I devoured all of it. Oh, and the fresh air and sunshine...couldn't ever get enough.
Now though, I do worry. Especially the part about breaking a bone. What if my foot slips off the edge of the shovel and I lose my balance? What if I break my hip? An ankle? A leg? Should I finally make a decision to purchase one of those necklaces to wear around my neck? Really, has it come to that?
Bummer.
I suppose, I could simply go out and sit...but then my conscience would bother me because I know I want to work...Oh...I ever so badly...want to work. I was talking with my cousin on the phone last week, and we both decided it would be much better if we were all born old and grew young, and then contemplated how that would work. I suggested we would all spring to life, from inside humongous pea-pods. Dah, dah!
Maybe we would all start out at some preplanned age...let's say 100, yeah, we'd be achy, and pain-y, and maybe even feeble, or sick. But every day, week, month and year, we would get younger, stronger and healthier. Now, let's pretend we have all
the memories, we ever had, as we had learned them the way we did growing up
from a baby...but we could have 'do overs'....wow....
And...
I think I will leave this particular blog on that note. I'm going to ponder that today. Would I actually do "do overs"? I don't know...my life's been pretty darn good.
Question is, will I do my pondering while I'm shoveling dirt and moving plants, or let common sense take over and go sit in the sun whilst pondering...Oh the puzzlement.
Now that my decorative wall is complete, I want to get out there and move the plants from the planter I want to dismantle. But, my hip still hurts some, and common sense tells me it is a bad idea to be out shoveling. What to do? What to do?
Today I would sell my a-fore mentioned soul to the devil to be in my thirties again.
I never ever worried about breaking a bone, and sore muscles never bothered me, so working out doors has never seemed like work. Physical labor, especially outdoor labor was always fun. Ahhhh, communing with nature. Creepy crawlies, dirt under my fingernails, wet, stained sweat-pants, or even wet stained knees...I devoured all of it. Oh, and the fresh air and sunshine...couldn't ever get enough.
Now though, I do worry. Especially the part about breaking a bone. What if my foot slips off the edge of the shovel and I lose my balance? What if I break my hip? An ankle? A leg? Should I finally make a decision to purchase one of those necklaces to wear around my neck? Really, has it come to that?
Bummer.
I suppose, I could simply go out and sit...but then my conscience would bother me because I know I want to work...Oh...I ever so badly...want to work. I was talking with my cousin on the phone last week, and we both decided it would be much better if we were all born old and grew young, and then contemplated how that would work. I suggested we would all spring to life, from inside humongous pea-pods. Dah, dah!
Maybe we would all start out at some preplanned age...let's say 100, yeah, we'd be achy, and pain-y, and maybe even feeble, or sick. But every day, week, month and year, we would get younger, stronger and healthier. Now, let's pretend we have all
the memories, we ever had, as we had learned them the way we did growing up
from a baby...but we could have 'do overs'....wow....
And...
I think I will leave this particular blog on that note. I'm going to ponder that today. Would I actually do "do overs"? I don't know...my life's been pretty darn good.
Question is, will I do my pondering while I'm shoveling dirt and moving plants, or let common sense take over and go sit in the sun whilst pondering...Oh the puzzlement.
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