What is it about the seventy-plus generation and packing for a trip? How many suitcases full of bathing suits and light summer wear does one need for a month.
Kegs Keg-like bellies
Dress-commando Dress-Spanx (please)
Pick up lines Pick ones teeth or nose
Not a whole lot has changed since I was in college—other than my waistline—but that’s another story.
At the end of last summer, my two sons “flew the coop” and took up residence in dorms. Strangely enough, though I thought their departure would decrease the general upheaval in the house, quite the opposite occurred.
I like dogs, all kinds of dogs, except “biters” and those with saliva on their molars. The “biter” phenomenon is very evident in small yappers.
My trainer is waiting for me; the sweat begins to accumulate under my arms. I have a tank top on, so in this case, it runs down my side. I am not sure what I have signed up for, but I know that a 50+ year old women in pants that fit like a sausage casing generate looks, and I don’t mean good looks.
The “Big One” hit Seattle during the winter of 1991, we were unprepared, and unfortunately the weathermen had not predicted the storm. Three trees crashed onto our house leaving a gaping hole, actually not a bad thing as we needed a new roof. Though I must say, living in an unheated home had its disadvantages. Because of this event, Craig was determined that we would never be without power again. Picture the refrain from, “Gone with the Wind”, when Scarlett O’Hara says; “I will never be hungry again”, it was something like that, only I don’t even sort of look like Scarlett…
I’m tired of getting lost in Genoa, and the pigeons eat my breadcrumbs as fast as I drop them. The life of a Genoa shut-in doesn’t appeal to me either so I have a new system for getting around town. Actually its pretty much the same system I used in Seattle before Craig installed a GPS in my car.
A group of 15-year-old girlfriends discussed where to meet for dinner. Finally, they agreed to meet at the Dairy Queen next to the Ocean View restaurant because they had only $6.00 among them and Jimmy Johnson, the cute boy in Social Studies, lived on that street.
Each summer, I endure parental purgatory and attend my children’s swim meets at the Gregory Seahurst swim pool in Burien. Swim meets tend to be long (3-4 hours) and SLOW. Let me just say they are on par with, “watching paint dry.
