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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. |
| You've decided that someone's got to find Bigfoot (or Nessie), and it might as well be you. How will you go about it? Do you find them? If so, how does the meeting go? I must admit the huge foot prints I discovered in the forest piqued my curiosity. They appeared to have been pressed into the ground with bare feet. I could clearly see the impressions made by large toes and an equally large instep. No animal I knew could've made those tracks.. They were impressive. I asked questions of my neighbours, and they convinced me that Bigfoot had been prowling about. According to their folk lore, this creature towered as high as some trees, and it preferred to hide amongst them too. It sported a muscular body covered in long, unkempt hair. No one seemed to know what this creature liked to eat. What did it hunt, or harvest? Could it be lured, and tempted by a certain something? If I wished to meet Bigfoot, I believed I needed a strategy to arrange a meeting. I decided that Bigfoot just might enjoy the allure of sugar. Many of us like it, so why not him? My plan involved leaving delicious cupcakes in a clearing. Nearby, I'd set up a motion-sensor camera capable of shooting whatever discovered the baked goods. The first sets of pictures were far from definitive. They were blurry in fact. Whoever snatched the cupcakes failed to make a photogenic impression. Over time, okay, the space of a few weeks, I baked many of those treats. Crumbs were scattered throughout the clearing, but they did not form a clear trail. Clumps of hair also mingled with the crumbs, and hovered in the breeze. More of the out-sized foot prints marred the earth. Bigfoot seemed to be lingering, and developing a taste for sweets. I had to be patient. It takes time to build an addiction, and a dependence. Bigfoot became a sugar junkie. He learned that what he craved would be available at the same time every day without fail. As he gorged, I found I could camouflage my self in the bushes and watch him. I even managed to snap photos without the aid of a noisy flash. Finally, I felt ready to reveal my presence to Bigfoot. While he savoured a particularly decadent chocolate cupcake, I stepped out from my bush, and snuck up on him. I reached out and tapped him on the shoulder which involved me standing on tip toe. He shrieked, spun on his heels, and gaped open-mouthed at me. I smiled and waved, but he startled. The last I saw of him, he was skedaddling as quick as a deer through the trees.. Bigfoot found me to be scary. |
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