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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nannamom/day/3-10-2018
Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #2017254
My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum.
I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon.
March 10, 2018 at 10:02pm
March 10, 2018 at 10:02pm
#930381
Creation Saturday! Redefine the Ides of March to your liking and/or personal benefit.


         Beware the ides of March. Yep, I've heard that one before. Let's see, Caesar met his untimely demise by way of an assassination. No, murder isn't my cup of tea, not even the character assassination sort.
         I must admit I Googled today's blog subject. Apparently, this date was considered to be the first day of Spring, and a deadline for settling debts in Roman times. Okay, these are far less deadly than Caesar's fate, unless loan sharks are involved. Nah, I'm not the ultimatum/ threatening type of gal. What would I do with my own private ides of March?
         Hold up. Wait a minute. I can't shake the enforcer image of whacking a debtor in the knees... Isn't this what a loan shark refers to as " knee-capping"? Heck ya, I can think of somebody I'd like to take out at the knees. Well, actually, I'd like to take care of one of my knees.
         The left one is a pain, no really. It fails to hold its fair share of my weight, and it complains constantly. I cannot stand, roll over, or move without twinges, jabs, and stabs provoking me. My best foot forward is a grudging limp. I'm tired of stumbling. I'm tired of not sleeping. I'm tired of aching.
         My ides of March would be a blessed, wonderful, pain-free day. Oh what bliss to experience this for even one brief twenty-four hour period. On this glorious day, I will command my knee to shut up. It will be a no-whine time.


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