I didn’t get out much today. Instead I watched the satellite tv installer work his magic from the quiet of my back porch where I snapped this picture. I call it, “My Biggest Fan.”
©2017 by Leslie Noyes
Tag: blogging
Hip to be Square
Aging sucks, but as I’m frequently reminded it beats the hell out of the alternative. This past October I celebrated my 60th birthday. Six decades on this earth have taken a toll on my body. I’m no longer the svelte, lithesome broad I once was. And everything hurts.
My ankles hurt, my thighs hurt, and my hips seem to be stuck in neutral. I’m okay as long as I move forward, just don’t ask me to pivot or cha cha. Damn, I miss cha cha-ing.
A Facebook pop up advertisement (amazing how they pick up on my personal needs) prompted me to check on exercises designed to ease those frozen hips. Apparently, if I could stretch my hip flexors, I might achieve full range of motion. I could once again cha cha.
I turned to Google, and this stretch was the first thing to appear under “hip flexor stretches.”
Honestly. I can’t cha cha and they expect me to do this? I tried. Lord knows I tried. Studly Doright walked in during my attempt and laughed so hard I would have slapped him if I could’ve gotten up off the floor.
I’ll be in the whirlpool tub if anyone needs me.
https://g.co/kgs/oXQ3m7
Peace, people.
Call Me
Call me, she urged, then felt her skin flush red. Had she really batted her eyelashes coquettishly?
Out of character, out of her league, but her outrageously raging hormones won the day. Even now,
Decades later, she cringes at the memory. Hoping at least that he’s forgotten her flirtatious
Demeanor. Maybe someday she can laugh at her fumbling, mumbling attempt at seduction.
Oh girl, she laments, Whatever possessed you? Age brings wisdom, but ponders regrets.
Tallahassee Museum with the Grandkids
My daughter and her family arrived at our home last Wednesday after driving straight through from their home in Illinois. The three grandkids slept much of the way, but their parents needed naps upon arrival.
Poppa (Studly Doright) entertained four-year-old Harper, while Garrett (14), and McKayla (12), accompanied me on some not-so-exciting errands so the house would be quiet for the “old folks.”
After the parents awakened I suggested we take the crew to the Tallahassee Museum, which is really part zoo, part zip-lining adventure, and part historical site. I’d been before, but Studly hadn’t, and none of our guests had ever visited this gem.
I’m always so nervous that my suggestions won’t go over well, and this one didn’t get off to a promising start. Harper balked at the entrance and had to be coaxed to continue, but after a cold lemonade and a bit of time on the playground equipment, she was all smiles.
Poppa decided that he and Garrett should give the tree-to-tree adventure a try, and the two of them set off to be fitted for harnesses and given instructions on hooking on to the safety lines. Poppa came to regret this quest, but Garrett took to the trees like a duck to water. 
Somehow I forgot to take photos of the wolves, foxes, and birds of prey, but I remembered to have a good time.
Peace, people!
Snapshot #129
An ahem, friend shamed me into discarding my vanity and sharing a photo of me without makeup. Please note the cute haircut after poking fun at my naked face.
I call this one, “Jennifer Aniston has Nothing to Worry About.”
Roadblock
I came home from my Saturday morning errands to find this turtle blocking my path. She was in no hurry to let me pass.
The Struggle is Real
Fresh ideas for blog material are coming to me at the steady pace of molasses in mud, which is to say they’re not coming at all. I know the key here is to just write, regardless of whether anything printable results.
The truth is that my head is in a muddle. Everything I write feels like it’s something I’ve written before. I know I’m not the only one to feel this way. After all one of the original bloggers put it so eloquently:
The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9 KJV
I know how to remedy this situation. A week at an all-inclusive resort ought to do it. I’m sure that’s what the Preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes did–booked himself into an exclusive place in Arizona and enjoyed a nice deep tissue massage and followed it up with a 90 minute facial. Seven days of clean eating and meditation cleared his mind and he was able to finish the book.
I’m open to sponsorships.
Titles Without a Tale
Every now and then I have a flash of an idea that turns into a title for a poem or story or expository piece for this blog. Sometimes these ideas pop fully blown into my head leaving me to type as fast as my fingers will allow. Sometimes I have to coax them along to fruition. Sadly, often these ideas go no further than the title stage.
I’m still suffering from some mental lag brought on by a combination of travel stress and daylight savings time. Nothing other than the desire to nap, snack, and repeat has manifested itself into my brain in the past two days. So I went to the place where titles go to percolate or expire–the dreaded “draft” folder.
Here’s one. What was I thinking? Wine must’ve been involved. And maybe paddles. Wink, wink.
Well, I guess this next one might’ve gotten a bit sticky….
And the age old question didn’t awaken my muse.
Here are a couple of ideas that so far have gone nowhere.
And maybe I could combine these next two.
Fellow bloggers, do you do this? Keep a file of “might work” titles?
Some of these need to go in the trash file. But not today. Today I’m feeling desperate.
Peace, people!
Mourning
Come, bring your flowers,
Your condolences, the
Awkward and the eloquent.
Bring offerings of food,
And sincere expressions
Of loving concern.
Those I love have lost
A husband, a father,
Grandfather, and friend.
A life well lived,
A loss deeply mourned
With grace and faith.
Early on Friday morning our son, Jason, texted us the sad news that his father-in-law had passed away. We’d known that “Jamie” had been battling terminal cancer, yet the news still hit us hard.
We never had the opportunity to meet Jamie, but Jason loved him, so as soon as we heard of Jamie’s passing I hurriedly packed a bag and headed west towards the town of Hemphill, Texas.
Even in the midst of her grief Jamie’s wife, Fran welcomed me into their home. She and her daughters, Pam and Liz (our daughter-in-law) are, separately, forces of nature–strong, beautiful, and independent. Together they are the best kind of formidable. I went thinking I could be of some help, but soon learned that these ladies had everything in hand.
I know they will have hurdles to overcome in the days ahead, and they are in my prayers. But I won’t waste any time worrying about their coping abilities.
My brain keeps trying to formulate a tale around Jamie. While I didn’t know him I feel like I have an idea of the kind of man he must’ve been. Maybe one day I’ll have the right words. He deserves the right words.
Peace, people.
Pardon the Interruption
I am way behind in writing fresh material for this blog. Normally there are two or three pieces queued up and ready to go, but I’ve spent the past four days driving to and from the Texas hill country. I don’t know about you, but I find it difficult to drive and write simultaneously.
Briefly I toyed with dictating posts into my iPhone, but apparently I do not speak distinctly. Eliza Doolittle in her pre-transformation period might’ve fared better than I. The “Rain in Spain” refrain should become part of my daily repertoire. Or not.
Not only have I fallen behind on writing, but my inbox is chock full of unread emails from bloggers I follow and also from Nigerian princes who wish me good health and promise great financial rewards for just a moment of my time. Hopefully I’ll get to catch up on all the opportunities now that I’m home.
I look forward to getting back into my groove, but for now, I’m just going to rest.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 