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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. |
| July 2nd Prompt: Mood rings of the 70's? What if people could actually see your emotions like an aura of colour surrounding you. Would you try to mask it, display it, or something in between? I'm moving as little as possible today. I believe I am melting. Breathing is an effort. I'm certain witnesses would attest to me glistening and yes, there's a sheen to my skin, but it is most definitely not a glow of serenity. My mind is in a muddle, a stupor. The rest of me is listlessly languishing in a puddle of perspiration. It's too damn hot! My clothing is damp and sticking to me. I am steaming, roasting, beyond over-heated. Okay, I admit it. I sound petulant. To prove my point I'd really like to stamp at least one foot and jut out my lower lip, but that would require too much physical exertion. What should I do? I suppose I could summon the energy to stumble down the sun-drenched road to the beach. If I must, I could force my heavy legs to carry me. What's a bit of burning sand? Despite the relentless sun I could wade into the refreshing lake water. It betrays me though as it reflects the sun's burning intensity. Sunscreen? My skin refused to absorb it as I slathered it everywhere. I'm sticky and slick with this sun marinade. I trudge out of the pull of the lake. The smothering heat is a heavy blanket I cannot shrug off. That sunscreen fails to deflect the sun's piercing rays, but it attracts sand. My aura is gritty. I'm barely able to muster a glare, a glower and we all know it takes more muscles to frown. My aura is bordering on grouchy, tetchy. "Stay away. She's 'tetched' by the humidity. That one's under pressure. She's gonna blow!" I kinda miss the snow. No really. I can layer up and bundle for that. I have stripped and the only layer remaining is my skin. It absorbs and traps heat. Oh great, I am trapped in my own skin. It's too hot to think. Do I project an aura of resignation? Am I repressed, suppressed, stressed? Heat wave? It did not wave hello. It slapped me. It pummeled me. Worse, it wrapped itself around me in a crushing, unrelenting, ever tightening bear hug. Ugh, did I mention I felt over-heated? |
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