How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

Greetings and salutations to all who deem this worthy of your time...

Brought up Sep 15, 2012

Bits & Pieces... and a Possible Why

First, Connie dear, I will swipe a photo of me, gag, in the dress after I finish here, if the Wee One allows. Otherwise, I will message you her name so you can check them out at your leisure. The two of you would probably hit it off: you are roughly the same height (short!), I believe you fall into the same age bracket (just hitting our stride), and are wrestling with all that entails (as I recall when we first met, I believe you were a brunette. Love the blond, by the way).

As to everyone else, thanks for coming back from time to time. Holly, I always love hearing from you. Punk, all goes without saying, bud. If it happens to be your first visit, and this is the first of my entries you are reading... A- What took you so long? and B- Read a few of the old ones. This one may not reflect what I usually have to say.

Now, down to the bits and pieces. It's been an odd week. Hum... Let me see. Oh, well, a week ago today, the WW aka BFF made her commitment to whom from now on I will refer to as the SO (Significant Other), a great guy I love to pieces already. She also delivered her youngest into the unknown life of a military wife. A lot of changes for the BFF, thus changes for moi as well. Hum, let's see, books from the girl brat; did that. Am now reading "On writing" by my fantasy man Stephen King, and laughing my ass off, crying my eyes out, and learning that I am on the right track with my writing.

Oh, yes, one of kitties left us last night. Not in the way I would have chosen. He was a sweet little fella, and I will miss him. The boy found his favorite of the little ones squashed on the road. I was out of trash bags, so while I ran to the store, the boy scooped up Charlie, left him on the shovel, and and scampered off in his hot rod (that I was informed last night isn't as fast as he would like. Something about replacing the header, and possibly having something done to the engine's computer. Picture confused expression and head scratching there). Mom had to slide the poor little guy into the trash bag, tie it up and put him up out of reach of the neighborhood dogs. The boy buried him sometime early this morning when he returned home. It's odd, but I deliberately held myself back from getting attached to the kittens. When one pooed in the bathtub, I had no trouble putting them out side, knowing what could happen. I fed them, cuddled them, but for the first time, I kept my heart at a distance. I'm not sure if that is a good thing, or a bad one. I have caught myself getting a tiny bit icy sometimes lately, and don't like it. I guess to be a fully functioning adult (yuk, yuk, yuk), one does have to learn not to wear their emotions on their sleeve.

For the third weekend in a row, we will be seeing my worse half. He delivered near the BFF's and made the end of the reception last weekend, and is delivering about 60 miles from here today, then heading home until probably tomorrow night or early Monday. I hope he gets here in time to drag him off somewhere to watch Bama stomp the Razorbacks, but not holding my breath on that one.

Let's see... What else. Oh, the BFF informs me that it is possible to get a cell phone working by hitting it and swearing when it is acting a fool. (Next time, hon, POCKETS work much better than the bra for transporting electrical devices on long, sweaty walks. Just saying)

Speaking of walks. Today, I walked for 40 minutes. If my calculations are correct, and I am walking a mile in 20 minutes, then I walked 2 miles this morning. Good timing, as today marks 50 weeks of walking with out missing a day. I have struggled through rain, mornings so cold I thought my lungs would freeze, and humidity so stifling I could hardly breath. Not bad for an old biddy staring down 50, just daring it to try upsetting me. That number approaches much faster than I like, but it is still just that: Only a number. The bod may have occupied space on planet Earth for that number of years, but the brain still thinks it's maybe 12 at times, and possibly 30 when it is trying to be 'Adult.' I refuse to let a number dictate my true age, okay?

Guess there is a why after all. Why do we have to hide our emotions to be considered 'adult' anyway? And who the hell made that rule? They can kiss my flabby, saggy, far from perfect caboose if they don't like my version of adulthood. The day I stop letting people know how I truly feel, somebody shoot me. And when I act my bio age for more than an hour, ever, I hope someone has it on video. It will be a record for me, and something someone can show as proof that it did happen. Because, baby, the farther I go down life's path, the more I realize, life is meant to be enjoyed, not just counting the days until the dirt nap.

Comments

+ Add a Comment

Be the first one to make a comment on this post.