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.
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!
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."
Do I admit to a 'hidden' character quirk? Would it be considered peculiar? Shall I confess all here in a WDC blog? Could that oddity be my penchant for answering a query with a question? Okay, enough of the stalling tactics. Okay, I admit I like to watch people. I don't consider myself a creepy stalker. No harm is intended. I've yet to disturb anyone, or cross the line into voyeurism. Nothing is criminal, but then again I haven't consulted a legal expert. I prefer the term keen observer for my proclivity. The beauty and simplicity of it is that it requires no special gear and can be executed anywhere. All I need is my eyesight and a comfortable spot to perch upon. I am never hidden, yet most of the time I blend into the background.Unobtrusive is my motto. Stare, watch,observe, but never ogle, or leer. Perhaps I should qualify my actions. Stare may be too strong a word and misconstrued. I glance. I notice. Maybe I study? I remember nothing creepy. The point is to see people in their natural habitats going about their business, not spook them into unpleasant retaliatory encounters. So many sites exist for my people-watching. In the hustle and bustle of an airport I sit with my head on a swivel only blinking when absolutely necessary. Airport denizens, crawlers, scrabblers fascinate me. All manner of nationalities and clothing parade past me. It seems almost exotic with the rainbow colours blurring and the different scents wafting through the air. I marvel at the heads regally supporting turbans and the figures swishing, gliding in flowing robes. I whince at the women teetering atop tap-tapping heels. I wonder about those rushing with a cell phone glued to their ears oblivious to their surroundings. I gape at a man sauntering in a torn, scruffy pair of jeans with his rear assets exposed to everyone. There's a thrum that never dims. Voices rise and fall. Snatches of conversation swirl and entangle. Footsteps pitter, patter, clomp, and stomp.Garbled intercom messages intrude with buzzing static. For real action in motion I often plunk my derriere on a beach. Not everyone passes their time broiling in the sun. It's entertaining to observe the grandmas' attempts to keep pace with their grandchildren.Without excusing their 'advanced' years, stubborn grammies gamely splash in the water, or thrash as needs must. They flail and teeter aboard paddle boards, or struggle valiantly to pull themselves into giant inflatables risking life and limb in the process. The many ways children choose to move their bodies amazes me. They skip. They hop. They shuffle. They stomp. They twirl. They tip-toe. Their boundless energy is effortless. On a sandy beach next to a sparkling lake kids radiate joy. They soak up the sun, roll in the dirt, and absorb water while screeching, whooping and shouting.It's a people-watcher's paradise. Quirk? Shmirk. I suppose I'm easily amused.( 485 words )
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