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.
I'm getting a huge dose of sand swallowing here today. It's very windy here in the desert. It feels like glass cutting your skin. I didn't last long outside. I watered and came immediately back inside.
I'm glad you're joining us, dinner and drinks will be quite relaxing tonight. Apparently the Aussies don't drink as much tequila as the Mexicans do on Cinco de Maya.
Gosh sorry you missed the train. I hate it when that happens but you are here now. Yippie! ha ha poor Opal. I knew one girl named Opal and she had an October birthday like me.
I would've never guessed you to be an adrenaline junkie, Sandra. Way to go girl. I agree swallowing salt water isn't refreshing. As a child I loved swimming in the ocean, as an adult I think about all the stuff dumped it in.
You have lovely memories of your library. You must have lived close enough to go on your own. I loved my local library too. I went on Saturday morning with my dad.My favourite books were Little Women, What Katy did, Heidi, and any Dickens books.
Happy 10th WDC Anniversary, SandraLynn Team Florent!! I'm sorry I can't battle alongside with you, dear Florent. Go forth and go well! You are doing excellent!
March 23rd PROMPT: What is the best way to spend a rainy afternoon? My first instinctive response would be to stay home and hunker down with a good book or two. Ignore the rain. You cannot prevent it anyway. Why would you want to be soaking wet? Stay dry and comfortable reclined on a couch, or that special piece of furniture, the recliner. Lose yourself in a developing plot line. Search for the bad guy / woman. Curse their nefarious actions. Scale soaring mountains, or race through crowded city streets. Applaud the heroic efforts of the good guy / woman. Savour the described scenery. Puzzle over cryptic clues. Bake something, anything. May I recommend cookies. They are a bit more labour-intensive and the reward is in indulging. Tea pairs well with them. I suppose my ideal rainy day could be described as nesting. Stay put and practise domesticity. I have not always followed my own advice. One time, hubby and moi, son and daughter-in-law, youngest daughter, plus two grand giggles visited a zoo during a summer rainstorm. Let me emphasize the rainfall. We did not experience a sprinkle, but a down pour. Some may have been inclined to say a deluge, or a monsoon. At any rate, we were soaked and squishy. Our flip-flops squeaked. My son admonished his daughters to stay out of the puddles. This proved impossible. Puddles lurked everywhere. Walking created splashes. Water dripped down our faces. Our clothing clung to us. We were beyond damp. We chose not to hurry our tour. We meandered. We oohed and awed. Surprisingly, we did not battle crowds as we strolled and stared. The zoo inhabitants seemed to revel in the rain. Birds spread their feathers as if showering, all while squawking, whistling, trilling, and singing. Lemurs swung through branches playing tag. Hippos wallowed in the mud. Big cats rolled in the fresh mud. Deer and bison stomped and stretched. Perhaps they enjoyed the water and viewed it as a respite from the humidity. Have I mentioned the sounds of rain? It plips, plops, drips, splorks, drums, pit-a-pats, plunks, , splats, and more. It's sad to say, but I believe I'm past my puddle-stomping days. Those glory days when the whole idea was to test the depth of a puddle with your boots no longer exist. No more squelching muck for me.
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