Thank goodness my mom retains her sense of humor. Actually, in a lot of ways she’s more childlike than ever. Not just because her mental capacity is shrinking, but because her world has much less stress, less anxiety, less worry. Her natural, fun loving, silly self is beginning to show through, a side I’ve rarely seen. I’m enjoying it quite a bit!
Recently, we were in the car going to eat dinner, and talking about her age. She has the normal aches and pains that beset all of us later in life. “After all, you ARE 79, Mom,” I told her. She says, “79?!?” “How old are you?” she asks. I tell her I’m 46. She exclaims again, “46?! You don’t look 46!” “How old do I look?” “47!” :) Ba dum dum.
A thousand comedians are out of work and you wanna be funny. ;) LOL!
I’m a shopper….and I love it. I love looking at pretty things, even ones I can’t afford, from cars to jewelry to shoes. I love the stores, the lights, the clearance racks, finding a great bargain, checking out a new place and being pleasantly surprised. I love the sense of many possibilities I get when I walk in to a store. Is that PERFECT pair of jeans or handbag or sweater waiting for me in here? I shop secondhand a lot too, which I think justifies the occasional retail purchase. Right? (Wink!)
I ran across this blog on D Magazine’s website, full of tips on what’s happening for the “shop till you drop” crowd. Suffice to say, I know where I’ll be Friday night….mapping out my must-see shopping destinations for the weekend!
And looking for my comfy shoes.
You know what happy people do?
They sing in the rain. They smile in the face of adversity. They pick themselves up after a fall. They see the glass as half full, representing hope instead of the half emptiness of despair. They laugh. They make jokes during stressful moments. They pursue hobbies. They love.
I’m learning. Every single day. A new world awaits!
I’m reblogging this from A Day In The Life of Lunchy. It’s SO heartwarming to see good, caring people out there. It restores my faith in humanity. Thanks to God that Cocoa got to spend her final days with someone who loved and cared for her, like every living being should.
An Open Letter to Jean
RIP, sweet Cocoa! I’m sure your spirit is shining brightly in Heaven.
It’s taken me quite some time to get to this place in life, and I mostly like the person I am. Sure, I have my moments, things get me down sometimes. Who doesn’t? Life is like that, I guess. Hard work, sweat, tears, blood. It hasn’t been all bad, of course. But when things were down….they were REALLY down.
I had an epiphany about a week ago, and then I saw this pic on Facebook. It was like a flashbulb went off in my head. OMGosh….really?
Boy have they got THAT right!
All this time I felt guilty, like I was the one that was wrong, or that something was wrong with me. I thought if I only lost weight, didn’t express an opinion, agreed with everything, they’d love me, finally. But nothing I do, or say, or think can make the people who’ve been bullying me my whole life less poisonous. They are who they are because of their own past, the events and people that shaped them. It’s NOT my fault, and I’m NOT going to take the blame any longer.
I’m done apologizing for being me. I’m done letting the judgments hurt me or make me feel unworthy. I’m done worrying about what people think. From now on, I’m gonna do what I want to do, and to heck with the rest. It’s MY life, right? I wasn’t put here to make anyone but ME happy!
Like my mom always says, “I’m ok, it’s the REST of the world that’s wrong!” Amen, momma!
She opens the door on an empty apartment, shaking off a sudden chill. Looking around, she takes in the billowing curtains. The white wicker sofa. The chair that belonged to her grandmother and which she intends to reupholster….one day.
The kitchen is spotless; pans, pots, utensils all hanging in their proper places. She contemplates making a meal, she’s hungry, but she turns and walks down the short hallway to the bedroom. Undressing, she hangs her clothes in the closet and dons comfy pajamas, cozy and warm. Preparing for bed, she brushes her teeth and hair and washes her face. Thoughts whirl as she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. Meeting him on the street like that was a jolt. She’d heard through friends that he’d gotten married, had a baby on the way. She wonders what he thought when he saw her. Did he see the loneliness she feels? Was the empty shell he saw beautiful? Or empty, devoid of life?
Later, in bed, her dreams are filled with images of their time together. Laughing, picnics, making love, reading the Sunday paper, watching a movie on the couch. She dreams of a time that never came to pass, starting a life together, making a home, starting a family. Why? After all this time, why does the breakup still haunt her?
Parts 1 and 2
This post removed because of family drama.