fluMMoxed and wanderinG: February 2009

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Monday, February 23, 2009

LiTTle old PeOpLe

I love little old people.

Pause here for verification:
To all the little old people who might read this, PLEASE do not take offence. You might think that I am some young arrogant punk, but I am not. I am half way to being a little old one myself. Granted, I will probably be a big (fat) little one, but I say little because I have already started the shrinking (height) process.
That being said, I shall start again.

I love little old people. They are cute, sweet and can have many interesting things to share. My dad was a little old one, which is saying something because he was larger than life when I was young.

Little old ones have many endearing qualities and mean much to those whose lives they touch.

But what about the old ones who are just plain petulant? Just because they have lived a long time it does NOT give them the right to say or act how ever they want. I am sure that being crotchety is just a side effect of old age, but is being rude? I wonder why they always seem to be concocting games out of making you feel bad and inadequate. As if their comments, tongue lashings, or pity filled looks weren't enough. Being made to feel defective some how... Is this the high goal that keeps them in the running for the inconsiderate award of the day?

And, is it just me or are the sour old ones a bit (word revise) a LOT on the over sensitive side? Offending them easily by just a look. Any look will do, a smile mistaken for a smirk, a wink mistaken for rolling for the eyes, and how about a blank stare. Those are the best as they can be interpreted in so many different imaginative ways!

Sometimes I feel like an old one in training. Having to pick and choose whom I shall model my old age after. The can't complain, up beat, and content group or the annoyed, brooding, and resentful group. I hope and pray that I end up in the first group, but just in case I don't......My apologies to all of those whom I shall step on later!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

As the tears stream down my face

My heart tears in two

It struck me just now, in the middle of trying to compose this poem, that one doesn't truly comprehend how many times in ones life the heart can be shattered.

Some times it hurts so bad that one feels physical pain. This strikes me as odd.

Today was a good day. The kids and I had a great dinner and time together, but late at night when all is still, I miss my husband. We are apart for the moment, and because I am missing him I think it amplifies my quandary.

I like that word. I love the sound of it.

Quandary: A state of perplexity or uncertainty, esp. as to what to do; dilemma.

Quandary: A state of difficulty or perplexity; doubt; uncertainty.

Quandary: a situation from which extrication is difficult especially an unpleasant or trying one; "finds himself in a most awkward predicament

Quandary: state of uncertainty or perplexity especially as requiring a choice between equally unfavorable options [syn: dilemma]

Naturally I don't particularly enjoy it's meaning.

I am able to find some solace in the warmth of the purring cat that sits upon my feet.

I often wonder what a cat thinks? What would it be like to be a cat? I do love my cats, I have two. To run about at night, nap when ever they feel like it, to be pampered and loved unconditionally, and to be served their food upon demand. Of course vet visits, car rides, and dogs are most likely their biggest quandaries.

I guess that just goes to show that all of God's creatures have quandaries from time to time.