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.
Didn't ICE find the illegal aliens who had secretly landed in our trailer parks and ICE shipped them to an El Salvadorian prison? I thought many of the trailer park inhabitants who resisted will be vacationing at the prison, er renamed Cultural Exchange Theme Park, soon?
When the toe heels it may be time for specially fitted shoes. Broken bones, no matter how small, can create or exacerbate other health issues as one ages.
Witchy Woman Yes, I have family nearby. The lake is also across the road. Water is kinda important, eh? A spoonful of coffee grounds just isn't the same without it. Thanks for commiserating with me.
I'm so sorry to hear you're having such a terrible week. I've gone through the float valve thing at my old house in Maine, it felt like forever before they got it replaced. I bought gallons of water to keep my coffee supply steady. I refilled empty jugs for the toilet from the lake. We were lucky it happened in the summer because bathing was at the lake. I can't imagine doing it in the fall with the temperatures dropping. I never asked if your family lives nearby? Hopefully, you can take care of the essentials there.
Very nicely written. I am a big communicator and if more people would put forth a better effort, it would be a better place. Little acts of kindness truly goes a long way. You have identified it well. I can feel your sincerity coming through your writing. I would like to see more of the younger crowd helping or being involved with the older folks. I know my day goes better when someone has said hi or gives a waves.
I don't care for dark British/Dutch humor. Dislike Monty Python as well. Give me a bittersweet French or Japanese movie or a sad Portuguese song. I'm more introspective.
You were very fortunate. I never really fell into anyone's arms.
I need to reassess my needs. My 'romantic' efforts in Thailand had limited success.
Today I embarked upon a feasting tour of Buenos Aires. I'm not much of a helmet fan, but protecting my noggin with one was part of the cost to see this vibrant city up close and intimately via electric e-scooter. I wobbled along the wide thoroughfares smiling and nodding. I returned many a hola and como estas? Spanish is such a beautiful language that rolls and drips off the tongue. Yes, sure there were plenty of impressive edifices to ogle, but I noticed the stupendous, often flowering trees. One immense specimen looked familiar. I'd spied one in my father's British Columbia neighbour's front yard. It's a strange looking evergreen nicknamed the monkey puzzle. If Dr. Seuss had ever designed a tree this would be it. Even within the obvious allures here it's not a pretty tree. For a showstopper the Tipa flaunts yellow blooms and the Jacaranda flashes stunning purple flowers. I admit I may have daydreamed a wee bit as I puttered along. I'm still digesting the furious tangos I witnessed yesterday and the intense energy the performers radiated as they commanded the stage. I've always associated this strong dance with the clutching of a red rose between the lips. My eyelids must have drooped and my steering wavered. One minute I was humming along and the next I impacted with something that pitched me into a stout tree trunk. I had to shake my head because I thought I'd struck a beer barrel forgotten on the boulevard. The guide informed me I'd collided with a drunk stick, and if so Argentinian tree limbs are humongous. He gasped for air as he choked out, "No, this is a Palo Borracho tree. We call it a drunk stick." I smiled weakly and then spit out the red flower caught in my teeth. I'm not certain, but it sounded like several of the pedestrians muttered, "Idiota," as they swerved to avoid me. One or two mimed the universal sign for drinker raising invisible cups to their mouths and I shrugged. I did imbibe the awful yerba mate concoction at one of our stops and I spat out the fernet de Branca. Not my cup of tea at all. People like this black licorice-flavoured Listerine substitute? I may have dented the loaner helmet and grazed my pride, but the alfajores I purchased survived with nary a crumble. This heavenly concoction combines all of my favourites: shortcake base, a caramel filling and cocoanut. With one last glance to assure myself I had not harmed the bruiser of a tree, the scooter wranglers and I proceeded to our final feast featuring a baguette stuffed with chorizo and chimichurri. I GOOGLED the mouth-watering ingredients and I vowed to replicate this tasty sauce /marinade at home. I'm sure I can find fresh parsley, oregano, garlic, oil, vinegar and chili pepper. I waved off the offer of a beer. I was drunk on this entire experience and besides, I did not wish to meet any more trees that jump out at unsuspecting tourists. Its bark left an impression.
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