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 |    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. |
| PROMPT March 17th Pretend that you have found a four-leaf clover that will bring you extraordinary good luck for exactly one day. Write about your lucky day. I groaned and rolled onto my backside. The large, scraggy mutt that had knocked me to the ground nuzzled my cheek and panted in my ear. With some effort, I pushed away his slobbering tongued head before he drooled all over me. As my vision cleared, I noticed a loose shoe lace and I reached to re-tie it. Adding to my ringing ears, a whine caused me to wince. I stomped my foot in hopes of shooing the clingy dog. Lifting my foot, the greenery I'd crushed sprang up save for one wee sprig. My nemesis sniffed it and I reacted by snatching it out of his reach. Imagine my surprise to be clutching a genuine four-leaf clover. Had I found the ultimate good luck charm? Were my fortunes about to improve? My first thoughts urged me to protect the talisman, so I reached into a pocket. Just in time, I felt the new, ragged tear. With exaggerated care, my fingers searched a second pocket and deemed it sound. Withdrawing my empty hand, a damp nose grazed it. I swiped my skin across a pant leg and flung out my arm with a command. "Go! Get away!" The mutt cocked his impressive head and stared. I struggled to my feet brushing dirt and leaves from my clothing. Forgetting why I'd been in the park, I stumbled towards the street. Glancing over my shoulder, I glimpsed my hulking furry shadow. I quickened my step, but he kept pace with me. Why did he insist upon following me? Without stopping, I lurched off the curb. Something struck me from behind and arms flailing I thudded to the pavement. Horns blared. Tires screeched. Voices screamed and shouted. A rough tongue swabbed my face and I forced my eyes open. A mass of matted fur lay across my heaving chest. "Sir? Sir are you all right?" "You sure are lucky mister. That cab just missed you." "You must have a horse shoe, or a four-leaf clover in your pocket. That was a close call." "I saw it with my own eyes. Your dog jumped up and knocked you down. What is he, an Irish Wolfhound?" With shaking hands I ruffled the warm form protecting my body. The darkest brown eyes I'd ever seen stared into my own bewildered ones. Had this canine chosen me? "Hey, what's your dog's name? I'd like to shake his paw." My voice rasped, "Lucky, his name is Lucky." |
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