“You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth.”
― William W. Purkey
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While my friend Emily was visiting her mother, they went for a walk and bumped into an old family acquaintance. "Is this your daughter?" the woman asked. "Oh, I remember her when she was this high. How old is she now?"
Without pausing, Emily’s mother said, "Twenty-four." Emily, 35, nearly fainted on the spot.
After everyone had said their good-byes, Emily asked her mother why she’d told such a whopper.
"Well," she replied, "I’ve been lying about my age for so long, it suddenly dawned on me that I’d have to start lying about yours too."
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My hearing had gotten worse, and ultimately I was faced with a decision: buy a pontoon boat, which I could enjoy all summer, or get a hearing aid. The choice was obvious—to me at least. However, my sisters did not approve of the boat.
One day during lunch with them, I was having trouble following the conversation. Finally I leaned over to one of my sisters and asked what had just been said.
"You should have brought along your pontoon boat," she replied
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We invited some old friends to help celebrate my 40th birthday. My husband went out to buy a gift, and he saw some cute little music boxes. A blue one was playing "Happy Birthday to You." Thinking they were all the same, he picked up a red one and asked the clerk to have it gift-wrapped.
When we sat down to dinner, he gave it to me, asked me to open it and— surprise—out came the tune to "The old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be."
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While on maternity leave, a woman from our office brought in her new bundle of joy. She also had her seven-year-old son with her. Everyone gathered around the baby, and the little boy asked, "Mommy, can I have some money to buy a soda?"
"What do you say?" she said.
Respectfully, the boy replied, "You’re thin and beautiful."
The woman reached in her purse and gave her son the money.
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After a shopping expedition, my friend Gina and I stopped in a local bar for a drink. We hadn’t been seated long when she leaned over and said that four young men at the next table were watching us. Since we’re both thirty-something, married with children, we found the situation flattering. We sat a little straighter and tried to look slimmer and younger.
In a few minutes, one of the men got up and came toward our table. "Excuse me," he said. Then he reached over our heads to turn up the volume on the televised ball game.
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A judge tells the defendant, “You’re charged with attacking your boss with a hammer.”
“You jerk!” yells a voice from
the back of the courtroom.
“You’re also charged with attacking a bartender with a hammer,”
says the judge.
“Jerrrrkkkk!” bellows the same man.
“Sir,” says the judge, “one more outburst, and I’ll charge you with contempt.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” says the man. “But I’ve been this jerk’s neighbor for ten years, and every time I asked to borrow a hammer, he said he didn’t have one.”
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During the last days of my mother’s life, we discussed many things. One day I raised the topic of her funeral and memorial service.
"Oh, honey," she responded, "I really don’t care about the details."
Later she woke from a nap and grasped my hand, clearly wanting to share something with me. As I leaned forward, she said urgently, "Just don’t bury me in plaid."
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I had laryngitis and finally decided to go to the doctor. After the nurse called for me, she asked my age. "Forty-nine," I whispered.
"Don’t worry," she whispered back. "I won’t tell anyone."
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Out bicycling one day with my eight-year-old granddaughter, Carolyn, I got a little wistful. "In ten years," I said, "you’ll want to be with your friends and you won’t go walking, biking, and swimming with me like you do now."
Carolyn shrugged. "In ten years you’ll be too old to do all those things anyway."
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One of the English classes I taught at Deltona high school in Florida consisted of a particularly well-motivated group of juniors. Students felt free to ask questions on any subject that concerned them.
One afternoon a girl raised her hand and asked me to explain all the talk about a woman’s "biological clock." After I’d finished, there was a moment of silence, and then another hand shot up.
"Mrs. Woodard," a student asked, "is your clock still ticking, or has the alarm gone off?"
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When a woman I know turned 99 years old, I went to her birthday party and took some photos. A few days later, I brought the whole batch of prints to her so she could choose her favorite.
"Good Lord," she said as she was flipping through them, "I look like I’m a hundred."
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A few years ago, I opened the invitation to my cousin’s 100th birthday party. On the front—in bold letters—it screamed, "If he’s heard it once, he’s heard it a hundred times. Happy Birthday, Sam!"
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At 82 years old, my husband applied for his first passport. He was told he would need a birth certificate, but his birth had never been officially registered. When he explained his dilemma to the passport agent, the response was less than helpful.
"In lieu of a birth certificate," the agent said, "you can bring a notarized affidavit from the doctor who delivered you."
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Good morning everyboomie.
Yesterday was a great day for going to the creek. It was cool and breezy all morning. Problem was, I stayed out there way too long. I was worn out when I got back, and I know poor Baby was wore out.
It wasn't a great day for arrowhead hunting though. I found a huge chunk of flint that was being worked into a spear point or something, but never finished, and I found another piece that was well worked, but never finished. That's it.
The mosquitos were thick, and so were the snakes. The first snake I saw was a little one, when my face was about two feet away from it. The second one was much larger. I was right on top of him, but he couldn't strike, because his mouth was full of a frog that he was trying to swallow. That happened to me once before when I stepped over a cottonmouth that had half way swallowed another snake, and he couldn't strike me.
I may not be going back to the creek for a very long time. Although......we're supposed to have a bunch more rain in the next week. It would be hard to resist going if we had another flood event.
Oh yeah, there's one other thing about this trip to the creek. Immediately after I saw the first snake, and whacked it to death with my stick, my back started going out on me. Oh joy! I have to be at work at 5:00am, and it's a freight day.
Well my buddy Shane just came over for a short visit. He's moving to Tulsa, because of his job, and he brought me this beautiful little perfect black arrowhead. It's one that he found in our creek a couple of years ago, and he wanted me to have it. That's very considerate, and generous of him. He's the one that got me started at hunting arrowheads.
I've gotta get myself to bed so, have a happy day everyone.
joe
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I'll try and pop by when I can, just to let you know I haven't disappeared. 
Going to sleep now for yet another long day. 
