Snoozing People

In my quest to enjoy a generally more upbeat and peaceful Facebook feed in 2020, I am spending some time "snoozing" or "unfollowing" some folks. I am not "unfriending" or "blocking." I can go see their feeds at my leisure. But, I am just no longer up to a daily barrage of unsubstantiated political garbage, deliberate unkindness, lack of understanding or tolerance for other races of people, etc. I am not talking about people who occasionally post things I don't care for, but those who post things like this nonstop to the exclusion of much of anything else. 

I want to see cute pictures of your children and grandchildren. I want to hear about the good things that are happening in your lives. I want to celebrate weddings and births with you. I want to be able to pray with and for you if you should lose a loved one or suffer a serious illness. I want to encourage you. And, I try very hard to post something every day that gives you a chuckle or even a belly laugh! 

I love to stay connected to people. Facebook gives me a way to keep up with friends and relatives who live far away. I'm not willing to give it up at this point. There are three little dots at the top right-hand corner of each post. They give you the options to snooze or unfollow. 

You might want to do a little snoozing yourself. 

Happy New Year! 

December Reflections

Just some random musings about this December so far. 

This has been a very tough year for many of my friends and extended family members. So many have lost loved ones, endured illness both physically and emotionally, and dealt with losses of jobs and income. I lost a friend this year at the too-young age of 56. We used to sing together with another dear friend. One of our last performances was of "Hey Santa!" for a company Christmas gathering in Memphis. I heard that song for the first time this season and it was a poignant moment and another realization that I won't sing with Mary again until we meet in Heaven. 

On happier notes, I have had a wonderful time "doing art" with the children at Micah's Mission. These kids are an inspiration and just a joy to be around. We made some really cool picture frames and designed our own gift wrap and Christmas cards. Check them out here:
 https://www.facebook.com/micahsmissionschool/ 

I am about to head out on what has become an annual trip to North Mississippi and Memphis. I visit friends in Water Valley, Oxford, and Southaven. On Friday, I will attend the Christmas Concert of the Memphis Camerata, which includes my friend Teresa. This is always a lovely occasion. 

https://www.facebook.com/Camerata901/

Then I will zoom back home to prepare for our last service of the year at Hermanville United Methodist Church. It has been different this past 6 months with only having services two Sundays a month, but those services have been a blessing, for me at least. I help out at a local retirement home on one of the "off Sundays." These Sundays contain great lessons presented by my friend, Sarah and I love coordinating music and singing with these residents. I come away feeling sufficiently "churched" on those Sundays. The other Sunday, I often spend at home, just enjoying a peaceful morning. I no longer see anything wrong with this.

https://www.facebook.com/HermanvilleUnitedMethodistChurch/

On another happy note, LSU won the SEC Championship! I know that a lot of folks think football is silly, but LSU football has always been a link to my Daddy. I was born at Baton Rouge General at the height of Football season in 1959 while Daddy was getting his Engineering degree from LSU. I was born a Tiger fan. Last time we won the SEC, Daddy was in the hospital, dying of cancer. I bought the SEC Championship hat for him and took it to the hospital where we displayed it on his corner shelf. Seeing LSU do well brings back happy memories of my Daddy and I won't apologize for being extra happy to see how well they have done this season!

December has historically been a tough month for me and my family. But, I am more determined than ever to make it the best one possible this year. I hope you can too. 

Humor

I often joke that I have the sense of humor of an 11-year-old boy. Often, I have come across slightly rude things that have made me absolutely collapse in giggles, but I have been afraid to post them. After all, I am a 60-year-old woman, and one would think my sense of humor would have become more sophisticated over time. Wrong! 

I am not a fan of totally slapstick comedy. The Stooges don't do it for me at all. But, give me Abbott and Costello's "Who's on First" routine and I laugh every time. Old Victor Borge routines tickle me to death. I loved Danny Kaye. Today's profanity-laced, NSFW humor just escapes me. 

The other day, I decided to "out" my unsophisticated self and I posted this picture on Facebook. As of this writing, 67 people had reacted to it. There are obviously more people who appreciate this type of humor than I thought. 

These days, I appreciate anything that gives me a belly laugh. 

I hope you do too. 

Feeding Critters, Part 2

This is my husband's little buddy. He comes up to the step right before the landing of our back doorstep to get his breakfast every morning. At first, he would disappear down his hole and he might not be seen for the rest of the day. 

However, Mr.Chipmunk must have decided to read The Hobbit. He now comes back a couple of hours after his breakfast looking quite pitiful. So, Bill began feeding him a "second breakfast." At least he does not seem to expect lunch! The total sum of what he gets is about one walnut half. After that, he seems content. 

Of course, if the neighbor dogs see Bill go out and feed the chipmunk, they begin barking for THEIR treats. And, usually, my husband obliges with the doggie treats we keep, although we have no dog of our own. 

When we went to Seashore Assembly last week, I was too sick to want to do much of anything. So, I sat and watched the squirrels and the water. Bill, wanting to see how close the squirrels would come to us, bought a jar of unsalted peanuts and began feeding THEM too! I am sure that, given time, they might even eat out of Bill's hand. 

Maybe I need to start a "Go Fund" to help cover the cost of all the nuts my husband feeds any available critters.

Bill, the critter feeder. 

It has a nice ring, don't you think? 

The Big 6-0

The Birthday week countdown has begun. Yes, I said birthday WEEK. I plan to celebrate (at least a little!) every day this week. 

Yesterday, my brother and sister took me out to breakfast for my annual siblings' birthday gathering. I expected to see THEM. I did NOT expect to see my friend, Teresa, (from Southaven) who had been cleverly hidden by another dear friend who is known to most everyone these days as "Granna." I am told my squeal was heard even outside the confines of the restaurant! Teresa has been hard at work attending school to learn medical coding. I had no idea that she would be able to come down for the occasion. I told my family not to do that for my next milestone. I will be so old, I might have a heart attack and drop dead!

I was also treated to the most amazing lemon bars that I have ever eaten and they are GLUTEN-FREE! I will definitely be stopping at Butter, A Louisiana Bakery, next time I am in Monroe. Thanks to my sister, Tammy, for finding this place and agreeing to make the sacrifice of sampling items so I would know what was good. Tough job, but someone had to do it!

The only thing I did not get was a picture with my brother and sister. My brother had a pressing event to get to after my party. A young friend of his was turning the big "4" and he left my party to attend hers. 

I guess I'm ready for the old rocking chair now. 

And maybe a nap. 

Hospitality

The other day I was thinking about my favorite great-aunt. Aunt Emma Lee has been gone for a number of years, but I still miss her. 

My grandmother would take me down to Kentwood, LA every summer to stay with Aunt Emma Lee. I would play with my cousins and visit with all the other great-aunts and uncles while I was there. And, usually, our stay would involve at least one big meal with as many of the family present as could be there. 

Aunt Emma Lee was the most amazing cook and hostess. She had reared 4 boys, all of whom had played football, and she knew how to cook for a hungry crowd. My mouth still waters when I remember her delicious chicken pot pie. It would literally melt in my mouth and I can't remember a time that I didn't ask for seconds. 

Most of all, Aunt Emma Lee was a gracious hostess. I never went to her house where I was not offered food and drink and a comfortable place to sit (preferably in the porch swing). Aunt Emma Lee loved having company and bent over backward to make sure everyone was taken care of. 

I don't have the crowds of people coming to my house, and I don't do much cooking from scratch anymore. But, true to my deep Southern roots, if you come to my house, you are going to be offered a cool beverage, something to eat, and the most comfortable place I can find for you to sit. 

Just let me know you are on your way. 

Pizza

For the past few years, I have had to be fairly gluten-free. Fortunately, gluten-free products have become more available, so I have been able to adapt to this regimen without too much hardship. 

The exception to good, gluten-free food has been pizza. I have tried a couple and found them sorely lacking. Since I tasted my first pizza at the Dog and Suds in Vicksburg, it has been my all-time favorite food. I have missed pizza quite dreadfully and I thought that this would be something off my list forever. 

Enter Billy's Italian Restaurant! They began to advertise a cauliflower crust pizza. Picky eater that I am, I was skeptical at first. But, I finally decided to bite the proverbial bullet and try the thing. 

Oh my! What bliss! The crispy crust was practically indistinguishable from any thin-crust pizza! I was instantly in pizza starved Heaven! It is not something I need to do every day, but it has been such a treat to be able to enjoy "real" pizza once again. 

Thank you, Billy's! 

Rocks

I began painting rocks as I waited to see what Hurricane Barry was going to do. Ever since Katrina, I get pretty anxious when a storm is coming my way. And I do best when I can find something to do with my hands. 

I used to watercolor during these times, but due to neuromuscular and nerve issues, I no longer have the kind of control necessary to watercolor the way I want to. I do collage, but I do not have the space to continue to make and store this kind of work.

So, I decided to try painting rocks. I figure small ones can be used as paperweights, and larger ones can be put in flower beds or used as doorstops. I use what is called "patio paint" and I add a coat of varnish so that they can live outside. 

My 90-year-old friend, Ruth Gay loves to go with me and put these little rocks in planters, small landscaped areas in front of local establishments, and special ones by mailboxes for friends and family. We are careful not to put them where they might interfere with mowing or be a hazard to anyone. 

I was a little hesitant to put the word out about my rocks on the Vicksburg Facebook page. I was a bit afraid that folks might think me crazier than I already am. But, I have not only received positive responses, but I was also invited to join a "rock group" on FB where people paint and hide rocks around town to be taken and "re-hidden" elsewhere. I will definitely be joining in this fun! 

Happy rock hunting!

I'm a Survivor

I'm not going to go into all the things in my life that I have survived. To quote Sweet Brown "Ain't nobody got time for that!" 

For a while, I allowed myself to be a victim. I refrained from living my life to the fullest because I was afraid that something else would happen. 

Therapy taught me to be assertive. It taught me to stop feeling sorry for myself. I was getting nowhere seeing myself as a victim. 

I also learned how not to continue to be a victim. I began to walk away from people and situations that were no longer healthy for me. This is still difficult for me at times, but I am able to recognize hopeless situations more quickly. And I choose not to beat my head against a wall trying to stay in them. 

There was a time when the last word I would have used for myself was strong. 

But I am a survivor. If I am knocked down, I will get up.

I am strong. 

Learning

In two months, I will be 60 years old. Preparing to hit this milestone has been a cause for some reflection about how I want to live the rest of the time I have remaining to me. I am especially mindful of the fact that so many loved ones, especially my mother who died at age 57, were not afforded the luxury of growing old. 

One of the things I have learned it that is it OK to walk away sometimes. Being retired, there are very few situations that I cannot walk away from if they become toxic, tiring, or unrewarding. 

As a person with multiple chronic illnesses, my energy is severely limited. I remain constantly chagrined that I cannot do a quarter of the things I used to. I have to set my priorities with care and put my energy where it can do the most good for me and the things I care about. 

There are some new chapters that may be coming up in my life soon. I may have to turn some pages to embrace these new adventures. 

Mean Girls

Long before this movie came out, there were mean girls. Almost anyone can look back at her high school or college days and remember at least one girl who was just nasty. 

Lately, on my Facebook feed, I have been getting someone in my "you might know" section who was that "mean girl" in HS. I don't remember ever doing anything to this girl which would warrant her behavior towards me. But, for some reason, she hated me. She was also ugly to some other students, and even some teachers. Back then, I just tried to give her a wide berth and stay out of her way. 

Since high school, I have heard bits and pieces about her over the years. I don't think she has had the easiest life. I feel sorry for her now. 

Now that I am older and far removed from my high school days, I am able to wonder what was going on in her life to cause her to strike out in such a hateful way. I may never know. I do know that I am not going to "friend" her on Facebook. At least not at the present time. She may have turned into the nicest person. I just don't know. 

Maybe someday I will feel like reaching out. But, today is not that day. 

Recording

Years ago, I made a recording of some show tunes at a little place located in a Nashville mall. It was not a super professional job, by any stretch, but it was fun. My family and friends seemed to enjoy the CDs I gave them and I felt like I sounded OK.  

Cue trying to record again 20 years later. Twenty years of reflux, allergies, asthma and a neuromuscular disorder. Not to mention 20 years of AGING have taken more of a toll than I realized. 

Over the years, I have tried to take care of my voice. I have stopped singing for months at a time when vocal problems arose. I have tried to maintain good technique. I don't smoke or drink. I have been realistic about lowering my repertoire as the years have gone by. I still practice daily. But nothing can totally stave off the effects of age and illness. 

I have been reading about how other singers have dealt with aging voices. Opera singers change roles or retire, pop singers take things down a step or two and encourage more audience participation in concerts, etc. It all has to do with being realistic, I suppose. 

I don't think I am ready to hang up singing just yet. There is a big difference between singing a song once in a church where a slightly off note might be heard once and hopefully forgotten in the grand scheme of things and on a recording which might be listened to over and over. My sound engineer assures me that his tools can mitigate factors that I am hypercritical of. 

I just have to make peace, as most singers do, over time in one way or another, with the voice I have now as opposed to the voice I had 20 and 30 years ago. There is a saying that time marches on...all across your face! Well, time also marches on...all across your voice! I will learn to be happy with both! 

Preaching Station

As of today, Hermanville United Methodist is no longer an official "church." We are now what is known as a "preaching station." 

Over the past two years, we have lost key members to death, moving, and, sadly, to other churches. Our membership was already small. We simply could not financially continue to support the salary and retirement of an assigned pastor with only 7 official remaining members.

So, we will be meeting twice a month. The messages will be given by guest speakers and ministers. This will be a new experience for the people of Hermanville UMC. We don't know how it is going to go. I am praying and hoping for us to be able to stay together as a church family in some fashion. 

When I think of this situation, I think of this song. I hope our preaching station really helps us to realize that WE are the church and that we can continue in this new form. Prayers appreciated. 

I am the church! You are the church!
We are the church together!
All who follow Jesus,
all around the world!
Yes, we're the church together!

The church is not a building;
the church is not a steeple;
the church is not a resting place;
the church is the people.

The Gift of Love

As I was looking through some hymns recently, I came across this one and the message really spoke to me. The Gift of Love is an old traditional tune. The first lines are in the photo at left. The verse ends with:
"But have not love, my words are vain, as sounding brass, and hopeless gain."

Some of the best performances I have ever witnessed were by people who did not have a "slick" speaking or singing delivery. But, I could tell that they truly loved what they were doing and who they were doing it for. 

Conversely, I have been to performances (speeches, concerts, etc) where it was obvious that there was more ego than love involved. Some of these performers seemed to no longer love what they were doing or who they were doing it for and it shows. No matter how polished the performances, there is an element missing. When I can't feel any true enjoyment on the performer's part, he or she has lost me. 

I know we can't all love what we do all the time. I get it. But, if we consistently can't do what we do with love, maybe it is time to find another line of work. 

The song continues. 

Last Words

Sometimes, out of morbid curiosity, I will look up the Facebook page of someone who has recently passed on. Often, there will be the tributes from loved ones lamenting the loss of the departed. 

Sometimes there will be posts visible that were written by the deceased. Or how they describe themselves in that brief bio that shows up in the "About" section. 

A couple of times recently, I have been shocked at the profanity-laced offerings I found. And it made me think: If I were to die, what would I want my last Facebook post to be? A hateful comment putting down an entire race or class of people? A piece of unsubstantiated gossip? Name calling of people on the other side of the political aisle? Once it has been posted, someone has seen it, even if one chooses to remove it at some point. 

Facebook may very well be the lasting repository of your last words. 

What would you want them to be? 

Congenital Myopathy

After years of being misdiagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis, this is what the final verdict was a number of years ago. My symptoms can sometimes mimic MG to a startling degree, so the misdiagnosis was not really surprising. 

Since I retired, for the most part, I have been able to keep the symptoms (muscle weakness, difficulty swallowing and speaking, some breathing difficulty, and my right eye closing) under control. As long as I get the rest I need (and I need more than the average person!) I can manage. Sometimes I feel pretty good. Other times, not so much. 

This week, I got a refresher lesson on what happens when I push too far. I made it pretty well at the Annual Conference of the Mississippi United Methodist Church on the first day. I was able to get up at 4:30 and begin the process of taking my meds in the prescribed order, getting breakfast, etc. I got there by 7 to get a handicap parking spot and went in to begin the day.  By almost 5 PM, when the day session was to end, I was getting tired but made it home. Things that I don't really think about, like trying to balance sitting on my walker or in an unsupportive chair make a difference, as my muscles have to work harder even to sit. 

The next day, I could tell I was weak, but I needed to get back to the conference for the voting portions of our agenda. By the time I got there, my right eye was nearly closed and I was shaky. I got through the morning session and most of the memorial service. After that, I had to holler "Uncle!" I had just enough energy to get home and collapse in my chair. This morning, I knew better than to push it further. 

I get a fair amount of "Well, we are tired too!" from other people. There is a difference. For many years, I could push through "tired." But now, I can't push through congenital myopathy symptoms. Not safely, anyway. 

Since Hermanville UMC will no longer be a "church" after the end of June but will be a preaching station, I will no longer be a voting member of our annual conference. I will miss seeing the friends I have there, but in a way, it may be a blessing. 

The body has spoken. And it is saying "no." 

My Best

When I was growing up, my parents never asked for perfection in my school work. They just told me to do my best. I can't say I always did that, but, for the most part, I tried. Being part of groups like choir and band instilled in me a sense of wanting to do my part so that the whole was as good as it could be. 

As I grew older and went into the working world, I was not the perfect employee, but I did always try to do my best from day to day. When I was given any freedom in my work, I tried to make it a better place, more organized, and a little happier, if possible. 

When I was forced to retire when a neuromuscular condition became too difficult to compensate for, I began to do some volunteer work as I was able. Again, even with volunteer work, I wanted to do my best. 

When I first read this scripture, it really stuck with me. Even now, in my volunteer work in my church and with other organization, I take it to heart. I want to give my best. 

"Servants, do what you’re told by your earthly masters. And don’t just do the minimum that will get you by. Do your best. Work from the heart for your real Master, for God, confident that you’ll get paid in full when you come into your inheritance." Colossians 3:23 

What's My Line?

Recently, I wrote about watching,  To Tell The Truth on Buzzr TV. Well, I ran out of those episodes and fortunately stumbled on another great game show from the 1950s. 

What's My Line?  featured a panel of 4 celebrities, a moderator and a guest whose occupation had to be guessed by the aforementioned panelists. There was also a "mystery" celebrity on each show. These were quite well known at the time and the different ways these celebrities disguised their voices to help evade detection was hilarious. 

The collection of episodes that I stumbled upon were from 1955. The panel was comprised of Dorothy Kilgallen, journalist, Fred Allen, comedian and radio host, Arlene Francis, actress and talk show host, and Bennet Cerf, one of the founders of Random House publishing. I was not familiar with any one of these except for Arlene Francis. It was quite refreshing to see intelligent, well dressed, well spoken, and polite people on my television screen! Another thing that struck me was the fact that these people did not seem to be terrified of looking their ages. The women were not overly made up, receding hairlines were not combed over, and reading glasses were put on as needed. John Charles Daly, the moderator, was a distinguished journalist who looked as if he was having the time of his life hosting this show, which he did for 17 years. 

The guest's occupations ranged from that of an elderly lady who would dive into a barrel of water for a local grocery store, to a man who played the back end of a horse in Vaudeville, to the first commissioned male nurse in the US Army. 

My husband will even watch this show with me. Now that we have watched Buzzr's collection, I have found more on YouTube. It is just as much fun to watch today as it must have been back when it aired (before I was born for the most part). If you want an escape from the realities of today, check out What's My Line?.

Tornadoes

Fortunately, no houses actually blew away, but there was quite a bit of damage last Saturday as not one, not two, but THREE tornadoes hit my small city of Vicksburg, Mississippi. 

For the most part, we have really been spared in the tornado department since the big one hit in December of 1953. I would think that one would be headed right for us, only to have it go above us or dissipate before it got to us. And, believe me, I have been thankful for that. And I am beyond grateful for the fact that no lives were lost this time. 

It looks like we might be in for another round of bad weather and possible tornadoes tomorrow. Everyone be weather aware and do what it takes to stay as safe as possible. We can replace the homes and businesses. We can plant more trees. What we can't get is another YOU.  

Petty

Alas, I am not talking about this guy (RIP Tom Petty). I am talking about petty people. Is anyone else tired of this seemingly endless attitude? The "If things don't go my way, I am going to take my toys and go home." mentality? An automatic reaction of spitefulness when faced with a decision that does not go in one's particular favor? The "I am going to do what I can to sabotage your efforts" frame of mind? 

I know I a guilty of this sometimes. In today's world, it can be hard not to be petty. Difficult not to react to circumstances. And, sometimes, occasions practically scream for a less than gracious response. The hard part is making the effort to rise above the urge to be petty. There are days when I fight the urge more times than I like to admit. 

Faced with a show of pettiness from someone else, I have to make a choice. And I pray that my choice is this:

To Tell The Truth

March was a very difficult month for me. My friend Mary Alice passed away from cancer at age 57. A few days later, my 64-year-old stepbrother died after being severely burned while at work. Add normal stresses of multiple health issues and chronic fatigue and I had gotten to the point where I could not really focus on much of anything. 

As I was surfing my FireTV for something mindless to watch, I came across some 1961 episodes of an old game show. To Tell the Truth, was a favorite of my mother's way back when. I can remember watching it with her as a child in Russum, Mississippi. Tom Poston, Kitty Carlisle, Orson Bean, and Peggy Cass were regulars by the time I was old enough to remember the show. 

I decided to watch the first episode, just for kicks. It was quite a hoot to see a young Betty White, Johnny Carson, and Don Ameche. This show was just the ticket for mindless entertainment and some laughs during a difficult time. Most of the contestants were very well coached and fooled me at least half of the time. Even the commercials are a hoot, especially the ones for Anacin and Dristan. This one cracked me up. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmk6kCNRCo0

If you need a dose of mindless fun, go check out, To Tell The Truth on Amazon Prime Video and see if you can tell who the REAL __________ is! 

"The"

*Rant Alert*

This quote by Bob Goff has really resonated with me this week. Especially the first line. GOD MAKES PEOPLE. 

If we truly believe that the good Lord made us all, then people are people. Plain and simple. At least to me. 

Recently, I have experienced a number of folks saying things that I have found offensive. I am not the kind of person who is offended by everything, but this bugs me. 

It's using THE to describe groups of PEOPLE. 

One person refers to PEOPLE who are LGBTQ as "THE Gays." Another did not want to go to a certain place because of "THE Blacks." I hear this all the time. THE Jews. THE Muslims. THE Mexicans. Since I have dear people in my life who are LGBTQ, Jewish, Black, Muslim, and Mexican I simply don't like hearing them referred to as "THE" anything. 

How about using PEOPLE instead of THE? PEOPLE of the Jewish faith. PEOPLE from the Middle East. PEOPLE who are LGBTQ. 

People are people. 

Spreading Calm

Yesterday I was at my local pharmacy when an elderly gentleman walked up fuming because they did not have his prescription filled in the time frame they promised. 

I could see that the pharmacy staff was absolutely swamped. His particular prescription required a call to another party and the pharmacist just had not had time to make that call. The gentleman sat down near me to wait some more. I could tell that he was not a happy camper. 

So, I decided to engage him in conversation. Soon, he was no longer fretting about his medicine as he told me about his late wife, his children, his jobs, etc. I was able to keep him talking until the pharmacist could finally make the call (and was put on hold for several minutes) and had his prescription ready. 

Many people do not realize that most of the delays in service in a retail environment have little to do with the staff on the floor. The corporate office only allows so many hours for employee scheduling. It is usually not enough, especially in the pharmacy. 

I actually find myself trying to spread calm quite a bit when lines are long and people are impatient. Or when their orders are wrong in a restaurant. A smile and a bit of conversation can diffuse situations that could get ugly. Fussing is not going to make a line move any faster. If someone appears to be in a tearing hurry and I am not in any kind of rush, I let them go ahead of me. A little kindness can go a long way. 

Back to pharmacists, they have one of the toughest jobs that I can imagine. Not only are they tasked with filling prescriptions, but they often have to call doctors, give flu and shingles shots, and go out on the floor to help customers decide what they need for a particular ailment. Often there is only one pharmacist on duty with only a couple of techs to help. They have people at the drive-through window, the consultation area, the drop off, and the pickup section. And everyone wants their medicine yesterday! 

So be kind to those pharmacists and other people who serve the public. And if you can help someone else be kind, do that too. It's worth it. 

Lookin' Good

One of the most recent things on Facebook is the "How Hard Did the Years Hit You" challenge. Participants are encouraged to post their first and current profile pictures side by side. 

Most of my friends have been on Facebook for around 10 years. Without exception, they look better in their current photographs. At least to me, they do. Even with a few extra wrinkles and/or gray hairs, everyone looks more relaxed. The smiles are more genuine. 

There are things about getting older that transcend mere looks and it shows in these photographs. There seems to be more wisdom in the facial expressions. More acceptance of life as it is. More of a "this is how I look now and that is OK with me" vibe. 

I remember some commercial for hair coloring back in the '70s that featured the tag line "You're not getting older, you're getting better." 

Believe it. 

Eyeglass Chains

I just ordered this eyeglass chain from 220PennyLane on Etsy. 

I seem to remember making fun of little old ladies who wore eyeglass chains when I was a kid. I seldom saw the ladies who wore them actually take their glasses off, so I thought they were just another piece of jewelry. And quite often worn on top of too many other baubles. 

Alas, time has caught up with me. I find myself taking my glasses off dozens of times a day. Despite my expensive prescription for progressive lenses, I can often see some things much better by removing my glasses and squinting. Often, there is no good place to put my glasses as I juggle them and whatever I am trying to read at the same time. So, this evening, I decided to give in to "old ladydom" and buy an eyeglass chain. I searched Etsy until I found one I liked, and reluctantly pushed the "buy now" button. 

No drugstore faux metal chain for me. If I am going to do this, it will be in style. 

Sixty IS the new 40, right?