Birthday Debriefing

As my faithful followers know, yesterday I celebrated my 61st birthday. It was a good day, but it got off to a rocky start. Rather than go into the painful details, I’ll just give you the bullet points.

  1. Due to the possibility of a hurricane hitting our area we cancelled plans for a weekend visit to Amelia Island.
  2. We’ll still have to pay for half the price of the room we cancelled because the hurricane didn’t enter into the picture until past the cancellation deadline. Thanks booking.com. Grrrr.
  3. My favorite convenience store was out of diet Dr. Pepper, so I had to do without my must have caffeinated beverage. To coffee drinkers, that would be like starting your day without coffee.
  4. Whole Foods couldn’t make me an iced chai latte because their chai delivery was late.
  5. The damned hurricane changed direction. I don’t want it to impact anyone, but since we cancelled our reservation and still have to pay for one night, how dare it not hit here?
  6. I had lunch at a table by myself while watching various groups of women engaged in pleasant social discourse. Dammit! It was my birthday.
  7. All became right with the world when I enjoyed a spa treatment at Aveda.
  8. Studly Doright lost his golf match, but played well.
  9. I received tons of birthday greetings.
  10. I don’t know how to make the bullets stop.
  11. Please help.
  12. Guess I’ll just say, Thank You for Reading. If you made it this far, you might need to get a life.
  13. Peace, people.

The big kid is me way back in the day. The cute kiddo is my adorable cousin on her first birthday. The man is my beloved Grandaddy.

Conundrum

I roused myself from bed fairly early Monday morning, showered, drank a couple of cups of coffee, and did my best to look presentable before leaving Doright Manor on a minor shopping expedition. On most days my efforts at self beautification are wasted, and I leave the house looking, at best, like a third generation homeless woman on a epically bad day. 

On this Monday, though, the stars were aligned, the makeup gods full of good will, and I looked really good for a 59-year-old grandmother. Dare I say I was glowing? I blew myself a goodbye kiss in the mirror and took off in search of items Studly Doright wanted for his new diet. (More on that in a future post–if I don’t kill him first.)

 

No, this isn’t me, but if you squint and pretend then it’s almost me.
 
While pushing a cart around Whole Foods I stooped to pick up a can of cranberry sauce from a bottom shelf and felt my back suddenly go “squitch!” I winced in pain and attempted to stand up in the throes of a full blown muscle spasm. Abandoning the cranberry sauce I crab walked to the checkout and paid for the things in my basket. 
 
Again, not me.
 
My face must have reflected the squitching going on in my lumbar region because the lovely young cashier found someone to carry my groceries to the car for me. Truly sometimes age and its accompanying pains have their perks. 

Once in the car I thought in my practical self voice, “Go have a massage.”

My vain self answered, “But, but, your makeup looks so good today! You know that only happens once ever decade or so.”

For a heartbeat I listened to my vain self. Thank goodness I decided to go with practical me, but for a heartbeat I was faced with the ultimate conundrum: Is it better to feel good or to look good? In a perfect world I could do both.

 

This is what I think I look like when getting a massage.

 
This comes closer to the truth.
  
Peace, people!

Surprise and Grace

A couple of days ago in the restroom at Whole Foods I noticed that the person in the stall next to me had on the same Sanuk sandals that I was wearing. So, of course, being the chatty person I am I said, “Hey! Nice sandals!” Silence ensued.

Well, what did I expect? What kind of person starts conversations between bathroom stalls? Only crazy people, right?

I finished my business and left my stall to wash my hands. The other person came out of theIr stall and gave me a shy smile. That’s when I realized that she was a he in transition. No wonder s(he) didn’t respond–probably didn’t want to freak me out, and for that I was grateful.

Now I’m an open-minded person, but even so I must admit that the presence of a man in the women’s bathroom caught me slightly off guard. I hope I didn’t let that show on my face.

We exchanged smiles, and I reiterated my admiration of our common good taste in sandals. “Oh,” she said, “Don’t you love how comfortable they are?” 

I agreed wholeheartedly. She noted that we had similar toenail colors, a pretty coral. Awkwardness dissolved. 😊

She was not a beautiful woman, physically speaking. Her poor face showed the ravages of hormonal changes, no doubt brought on by painful injections. But, she was dressed in this crazy colorful, stylish dress and non-matching turban, and as we left the restroom, she walked slightly ahead of me–head held high, a wiggle in her walk, fierce. 

And I thought, “Yes! You go girl!” 

Peace, people!

Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale

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I believe Whole Foods has a new marketing approach. It works like this: Station a really good looking younger man in front of the beer cooler section. Have him look slightly perplexed. Unsuspecting older women will be sure to ask if he needs a hand. 😜 Then he’ll say, “Oh there it is! You really should try this. It’s an ale aged in Kentucky bourbon barrels.”

Let’s face it, the guy might’ve said, “You really should try this. It’s a monkey’s butt aged in peanut butter,” and I’d have purchased it.

Yes, I bought an exorbitantly priced four pack of this stuff because the guy was ridiculously cute. Thank goodness, it’s really quite good.
Well done, Whole Foods, well done.

Peace, People!

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Ok, this wasn’t him, but I’d buy whatever he’s selling, too.