Since the black runt (Pippa, this name for you is used only in love), Maggie’s life has changed dramatically. Although I was only three when Sarah was born, and don’t remember it well, and I felt the same way. Kind of left out.
My aide (who comes four hours morning) and I have been taking Maggi for walks. So she can have some Pippa-free time. The walks have gotten shorter. Maggie is eleven.
This is our usual route: down Garretson, our street, to the elementary school, probably a quarter mile, and back. Although the runt has aged her, Maggie still enjoys sniffing every bush and tree.
This picture was taken Friday. The air was crisp and it was probably 65 degrees. It had rained the previous night, and as you can see, things are extremely pretty afterward. You can’t see Big Bear Mountain, but it’s now covered with snow.
I complain about California, but I guess it beats blizzards in January!
Sarah claims that I need to watch more “age appropriate” shows. To her, that is anything on Bravo. I have absolutely no interest in any of the “Housewives” shows. She signed me up for a contest in which you watch “The Bachelor” and follow brackets. Her boyfriend was in first place last time I talked to her. In all fairness, Sarah doesn’t actually buy into any of those shows–she finds them purely entertaining.
I think the whole premise of the show is nauseating, but I was keeping an open mind. Sort of. When I watched on Wednesday (what did we do without DVRs) I couldn’t believe it. These seemingly intelligent women throwing themselves at basically a stranger. Claiming they were “soulmates.”
The episode was two hours long. Needless to say, the second hour was left unseen. Give me my “Code Black,” “Pure Genius,” or “This is Us” any day.
If I’m an old lady, so be it. I’m a happy old lady.
Today’s prompt: frail. My first thought was old people.
Isn’t it funny how your perception of “old” changes as you get older? I’m 33. When I was younger (maybe 5 or 6) 33 was the age when you got gray hair. I’m 33 and still have all of my blonde hair (I have good genes, Dad is 58 and just went gray a few years ago, and not completely). Mom is 56. Sorry parents, but to younger Erin anybody in their 50s was ancient.
This woman has moxie. Kudos. Courtesy 2bp.blogspot.com
I’m currently in my room and I have the TV on. I’m listening to XM radio on Dish Network for inspiration for this post. It’s set on 90’s on 9. The current song is “You Learn” by Alanis Morissette from ’95. I remember it like it was yesterday, although I was in seventh grade. That was over twenty years ago!
To a 5 or 6 year, I should probably be graying, just like I thought at that age. But I guess when it comes to getting older, you have to listen to that little voice inside of you—not your graying hair or creaky joints.
As you know, I am enrolled in Poetry 101. It’s been a challenge (that means you, odes), but I have enjoyed it. Thursday I did a limerick (if you want to read it, it’s my last post) about my disdain of math. It was so much fun! Because of that, I have decided to write another couple.
My pooch’s name is Maggie.
She often gets shaggy.
Still, she looks so pretty, but
My dad calls her Haggie.
We also have Wayne.
To walk is really a strain.
My sister got him dog grip socks,
But too bad he can’t use a cane.