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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 9th Write about the mythical or science fiction creatures/beings that could actually exist. Imagine a world where there was definitive proof of their existence - how would life be different? Imagine a mythical creature as a beloved, pampered pet. Of course, as a caring steward I would take this magnificent creature for walks in which he stretched his mighty limbs, inhaled pure, fresh air and cavorted at his leisure. I'd decline any undue exertion on my part and choose to venture forth upon my pet's broad shoulders. Oh, what a commanding view I'd enjoy from my lofty perch well above the tree tops as we gamboled. Neither of us would be unduly bothered by mud, dust, pot holes, or the like. Sure-footed describes my amiable companion. To my great relief, this beast would never wish to visit an emporium that shampooed him, cut and styled his fur, manicured his nails, and more. His idea of pampering would be a refreshing dip in a lake, or an exhilarating scrub under a waterfall. Yes, he twitches a back leg in ecstasy when I scratch just the perfect spot. He moans in delight when I rub his ample belly. His heavy tail thumps against the ground when he is enjoying a jolly mood. Sometimes, he rolls about in the sun-warmed grass. Unlike canines and felines, he does not feel compelled to sleep snuggled against me in my bed. Curled up on the floor before the fireplace is comfy enough for him. Not often does he request a pillow, but occasionally he slumbers under a large quilt. Why not? We call it creature comforts. As a reasonable fellow, he dines upon anything really. Whatever I'm eating suits him. No special diet, or food restrictions hamper his appetite. He doesn't like to throw his weight around, but if he wants something how could I deny him? With his bulk, he can help himself and if I'm being honest, I admire this independence. He is not waiting for me to serve him, or remember to refill a bowl. Together we experience treks to remote locations. He is so much stronger than a pack mule. He has this unbeatable skill suited for rough camping. I've yet to coax a campfire to life before he does. His name should be fire-starter. Alas, one big awkward inconvenience mars our getaways. Most pet fanciers accept the unpleasantness of 'poop, stoop and scoop' as an unavoidable necessity. How shall I put this? My enormous fellow necessitates the back-breaking use of a shovel. No matter how I approach it, it's still 'gag and bag.' Naming my unique creature may prove difficult. Not just any old moniker will do. Nothing cutesy. Something masculine, strong. Sigh, I love my dragon what's-his-name. Perhaps, he'd prefer I call him Darryl, or Dave, or Doug, or Drew. |
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