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.
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!
WWAD-what would Andre do! Maybe he could get a 3D-printer, make bracelets with WWAD on them and sell them on the side.
We get our dogs braided rope toys to chew on and use dental sticks to help clean their teeth. Perhaps Andre would enjoy a nice braided chew rope, and if someone would make a banana flavored dental stick, he could use it for a swizzle stick in his drink and chew on after he downs it.
My grandgiggles now ask if I'm wearing bubble wrap when I venture forth for a meander/walk/stroll. I thought a clumsy monkey could be conceivable and that he'd be told the same thing I am. Be careful. What is that? Accidents happen, to me any way.
QueenNormaJeanGreeneggs&vegham You win! I've never been shot at, well, not directly. I once experienced the back window of my car being shot out as I drove along a highway. I believe it was a hunter's errant bullet. I wrote about us accident prone people. I refer to it as O.U.C.H. I believe I intended that to mean Our Unique Clumsiness Hurts. We create our own writing material.
Oh come on - I've had so many weird accidents - last one I swear I tripped on a feather. Broke 2 bones in my hand, cast for 4 weeks and now I'm going to see the doctor tomorrow. Cannot move the blasted hand at all.
Car accidents, been shot at, blew my knee getting into a truck. falling down drunk and waking up looking like a prize fighter when I had to go to a family funeral. I've had a few good ones.
I'm the accident-prone one around these parts - although most people would guess my most-used word falls into the "swear" category, it's actually "ouch."
Years back I dated a lady who was extremely accident prone. On one occasion she caught her dress pocket on a door handle as we exited the theater. She ripped her dress open, buttons popping off all over. Another time I stopped to pick her up for a dinner date. As we were exiting her apartment, she remembered her purse and rushed back in to grab it. She slipped on the floor and slid into the table, chipping her front tooth. On yet another outing while viewing some antique mining equipment, she climbed up on a big dump truck for a picture. She decided to jump down, but had caught her shirt on something and ripped it off!
What is the most useless skill you have? The most valuable? "Are you watching, Nanna? Did you see that?" I look up at Emily, nod my head and reply in the affirmative. She stares back and awaits some clarification. She wishes me to critique and praise her efforts. I murmur her speed took away my breath and she made the cartwheel look easy. I also praise her hard work and persistence, mentioning I could never execute such a bold move. With a grin, Emily cartwheels across the beach sand kicking up a cloud of dust. "What about those ones? Were they good? I ran and hopped for these ones. Mom doesn't let me do them at home." I again agree that she is talented. I'm impressed. I clap my hands and salute her. Satisfied, Emily runs off to the swings and for a few minutes there is silence. "Nanna, Nanna. Look at this. 'Member I never did this before? See? I don't fall now." This time, my seven-year old grandgiggle hugs a pole with her arms and legs and slides to the ground. She is correct. The summer before, she forgot the hug manoeuvre and always plummeted, hard. Next, she traverses the length of a horizontal metal pole, hand over hand. In the past, I held her wiggling torso up and supported her weight while she swayed along. Emily and I both 'see' her increased strength and we both beam with pride. Emily entered this world as a preemie, born in October, yet due in late January. She never finds it amusing when I marvel that she was the size of a pencil. I do add, the length of a new pencil, not a used stubby. After almost two months in the NICU, our girl arrived home for Christmas eve. Every milestone, every achievement is a victory. She is tiny, but determined. The above are cherished memories. Emily is now fourteen and a half. She can and does roll her eyes as only a teenager can. Sometimes, I am treated to the 'you're-kidding-right?' stare. She doesn't intimidate me. Her father tried those moves on me as did his two sisters. I am impervious, perhaps that is one of my skills. Another skill I possess is the ability to live in the here and now, in the moment. I spend time observing, listening, and participating in Em's life as well as that of her older sister, Syd and the newest grandgiggle, Alexandra.
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