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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. |
| Upsy daisy, oopsy daisy, parental murmurings from my youth. I suspect I heard this more than most children due to my proclivity to fall. Gravity and I battled constantly. To my puzzlement, I also heard descriptors such as ass over tea kettle and two left feet. Nothing surprises me anymore, or figuratively knocks me off balance. Today, I learned June eighth is Upsy Daisy Day. Okay. Really? A special day to commemorate the act of losing command of your motor functions? An occasion for klutzes to celebrate? A time to compare bruises and share 'war' stories? Well, in a nut shell, no. Upsy Daisy Day is a chance to take stock of what makes you grateful and puts a smile on your face. Positivity is the main focus. No negativity is permitted. Be happy. Turn that frown upside down. ( I've heard this simple platitude a few times and I admit I chose to glare which is technically not the same as a frown).Let a smile be your umbrella. (This is all well and good, but in the real world actual rain does pelt down and what protection does a grin provide?) It takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile. Maybe. Don't all muscles deserve a workout? Smile and the whole world smiles with you. Yes, I've found this to be true the majority of the time. It costs nothing to share a smile. It usually triggers a mirror response and is thus contagious. A smile knows no language barrier. When I'm out and about I always have a friendly smile ready to give away and mine shines brighter when it's been returned. Undeniably people exist who refuse to make eye contact. They stare at the ground, or they gaze off into the distance. Sometimes, they speed up to avoid a meeting, or they abruptly change course. The ones who pretend not to notice me make me laugh. I recognize a brush off , the reluctance to engage. Don't fret, I will not force my smile down your throat. Yes, you have a right to remain 'smileless.' And also true, smiling non-stop demands commitment and not everyone is ready to receive one. I do understand that circumstances collude to foil / thwart happiness. The down, miserable times exist without a doubt, but for the most part they are temporary. Gratefulness has an opposite. A frown, scowl or whatever is the opposite of a smile. How can we appreciate contentment without recognizing discontent? I wonder how people would react if I said to them, "Upsy daisy." I'd expect some sort of a reaction if only a direct glance, or a startled expression, or a 'bah humbug.' Do parents offer a 'upsy daisy' to reassure their children? You're okay. You stumbled, but you can get back up. Here, do you need me to help you? See, you can stand and walk again. I'm right beside you. Chin up. Let's try this one more time. Surely no one would argue that adults also crave reassurance. Adulting is not easy. It's a messy, exasperating, infuriating, frustrating, exhausting, grey-hair-sprouting, under-eyes-bags, wrinkle-inducing, weight-gain multiplying, worry-toting, endless responsibility. I know it's so much more than this and not everything about adulthood is depressing. There is the freedom to make choices and attempt new ventures. We can opt to smile. We can stop to notice others and acknowledge their existence. We can assist and share. I am grateful for this. Upsy daisy. |
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