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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 7th Prompt: What do you do when you are out of inspiration or ideas? Sandy sighed as she sat down. No, no Sandy dropped to the cushioned bench, coarse material scratching her bare legs sticky with July humidity. Sighing, she sipped a reheated cup of coffee. Out of the corner of her drooping eye, she noticed a blur of brown, striped fur. Oh, it's a chipmunk. Wait, is that George? He certainly doesn't need a caffeine kick. Look at him scamper. Up and down, he bounces through the tall grass. He boing-boings. I wonder if he'd share some of that exuberant energy. Sigh. Sandy stares off into the distance, eyes unfocussed. With a start, she considers today's blog prompt. What should she write? What could she write? Clenching her weary eyes shut, she wills her mind to relax.Memories float to the surface and swirl 'round and 'round. Snippets of recent conversations bob. Laughter glints off the sparkling stream. Alexandra smirks, eyes dancing. Well, she can't help that she's a cute distraction. Hearing a rustle, Sandy glances out the open window. George is back and seeking something in the dried leaves. She muses about his tail, or lack of a tail. Where did it go? Does he search for it? Miss it? Is he considered impaired? Perhaps George did not enter this world with a tail. Maybe he's an anomaly. Did he suffer the separation of his tail during a bold, high stakes raid? Ouch! Did a quick steel trap sever his tail missing his exposed neck by centimetres? Could a door have pulled it out as he wriggled to freedom? Did a panting, snarling predator only manage to taste a hairy tail? Oh, if only you could stop and share your life story with me George. Wait, did a farmer's wife cut off your tail with a carving knife? No, I suppose not. George, George would you bring me some inspiration please? I can barter. Sorry, I do not have peanuts, but I can offer you some shelled unsalted almonds. By the way, how do you stuff so much into your cheeks? Does that bulge cause discomfort? Ack, I'm stalling. Is that what I do when I'm seeking inspiration? Drat, I've dropped the pretense of speaking in the third voice. Okay, yes this me. It is apparent that I procrastinate. I am easily distracted. My mind wanders off leash. Double drat! My coffee is cold... again. |
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