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!
September 11th Prompt What were you doing 20 years ago today? Of the events that transpired, what memory stays with you, almost haunts you? Twenty years ago? Wow, now that's a significant amount of time. Where was I? What was I doing? Well, I was far from the horrific destruction, snug in my home, until the glaring news' reports jolted my small, Canadian town awareness into hyper-drive. At that long ago time my youngest had just started Grade 12 and we were immersed in all things high school. In fact on that specific day she posed for memory photos. I was busy reorganizing a new year of Girl Guide activities and preparing for the local fall fair by polishing my craft entries. My two eldest were in and out working at their jobs.My career as a personal support worker hummed along. Basically, I multi-tasked as usual. Oh, and my eldest grandgiggle had just turned four months old. My mother phoned me to order that I turn on my television and see the emerging terror for myself. I remember not completely comprehending what the cameras were recording in real time. My mind preferred to believe that it was a staged bit of movie magic / manipulation. It had to be smoke and mirrors, too much smoke, special Hollywood effects, right? Tall buildings were not intended to be struck and destroyed, right? I paced and worried about strangers miles from my safe haven. How could this happen? Why? Sure, the United States bordered my country, and New York is at a physical distance, but it was still too close to home. Canada shares more than that border and some common geography with our neighbours. Americans and Canadians alike presumed they were free to prosper and cherish their families. No one could foresee such brazen brutal attacks. What still haunts me? Those images of soot-stained, stunned, vacant-eyed New Yorkers stumbling along streets of rubble and framed by billowing smoke are etched in my memory. New York resembled a war zone and it was mind-boggling. The smouldering remnants of the towers were a stark reality. I also remember with bursting pride the outpouring of love and support my fellow Canadians from Newfoundland provided to the many diverted flyers sent there because all flights were cancelled. No one had ever envisioned a mass influx of frightened American travellers, yet citizens stepped up to help. Those Newfies are my heroes. They selflessly sheltered and comforted. They made the best of an unprecedented emergency. I suppose the least any of us can do is remember. Far too many people died on 9/11 and those deaths were violent, unspeakable atrocities. That attack pales in comparison to those beloved victims. Their lives matter and they shall never be forgotten.
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