Stashes of Boomer Stuff
As you know, I’m a Boomer-aged chicka. Don’t even ask me my age. I’m living free and easy, retired from a fabulous career and feeling great.
Most days.
But more and more, I’m plagued by age-related issues. There is an aphorism I used to think was silly: “Old age isn’t for sissies.… ...
What do you do when you can’t sleep, Constant Reader?
It’s a decidedly female dilemma, something hormonal and related to cortisol levels. A physician once explained the phenomena to me: that the mid-afternoon stress level is mirrored twelve hours later, at 2:30 a.m.… ...
“I wasn’t there. I didn’t know her. I left nothing behind.
I gots to be careful because I’m swinging my leg out with each step, to avoid stepping on the raggedy hems of these dang bell bottom pants. They’re jeans I got at a second hand store, and I’ve already had two ancient hippies, recognizable because they still let their freak flags fly, offer me a small fortune for them.… ...
Corollary good advice for me: sniff around extensively, gathering all the clues and facts, before digging in…
Hide bones everywhere ’cause you’ll never know when the snack imperative hits!
What advice appeals to you, Constant Reader? Do you have a dog?… ...
“Cleveland Rocks”. “Magic Carpet Ride”. “American Girl”. “Ride My SeeSaw”.
What do these rock anthems have in common?
Many things, Constant Reader, many things. And, all of them memorable validations to me… Our Father wanted us to be there, despite a ticket snafu 😉 (but that’s another block post, a miracle to be believed)