An Accident Waiting to Happen

I’m an accident waiting to happen. No lie. I’ve been physically active all my life so it’s bound to happen that I’ll have my fair share of injuries, but come on! I have had my fill, thank you very much. It would be nice if my guardian angel started doing her job a little better, don’t you think?

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not putting all the blame on her, mainly because I’m guessing my guardian angel is my mom. But I’m beginning to think she’s having too much fun in Heaven to pay the necessary attention one requires of their guardian angel. After all, my dad is there (the love of her life), her parents, her brothers and sister, and all of her friends. No doubt she’s a bit distracted.

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What I Learned At The DMV

Because I tend to procrastinate with things I hate to do, I did exactly that on Monday. What is that, you ask? Well, I turned the big 7-0 last week, so of course I waited until the last possible minute to get my new license photo taken.

I stupidly tried to get an appointment online but my computer practically laughed in my face. The earliest I could get in was late August. So I did the next best thing — I signed up online to reserve a place in line. I was G-031 so 11 people were ahead of me. When I became number six in line, I headed to the Novato DMV.

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Whirlpool Sucks. And Other Things I Learned this Week

  • Never ride your scooter on the freeway in a tank top when you’re 62 years old. And when you have upper arms that, on a good day, flap around like fish out of water. Add whipping winds while you’re scooting at 50 mph and what you get is slapped silly by your own arms. I tell you, it’s not a pretty sight. Soon you’ll find yourself riding down the freeway with your arms pinned close to your sides so as not to cause a pile up when motorists look on in horror.

flappy arms

Okay, I changed my mind. Maybe my arms aren’t so bad after all

  • Do not attempt, on a Wednesday, to push your 153 lb. sister in a wheelchair DOWN Sacramento Street in San Francisco, especially after receiving the wrong directions to your destination. You will be on your heels the entire journey, mimicking one of those barefoot water skiers, in your attempt to prevent your sister from careening down a steep city street like Steve McQueen’s car in the movie, Bullitt. Now don’t get me wrong; what goes down must come up. All 153 lbs. UPHILL, in a wheelchair.

Bullit chase

Pretty much like this

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When it Rains, it Pours

You know that saying, when it rains, it pours? Turns out it’s true. I estimate for the last few months I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop because the hits just keep on coming. Suffice to say, the other shoe has dropped.

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What Causes Me Angst

There’s one day each year that causes me immense angst, almost as much as having to endure those singing Jardiance diabetes commercials. Consequently, I’m inclined to make myself a lemon drop to dull the pain. Or better yet, a martini, sans the olives. I don’t want anything in my glass taking up valuable vodka space when it’s really needed. And I really need it every April 15th.

If you live in America, you know exactly what I’m talking about: TAX DAY. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining about paying my taxes. I’m perfectly happy to pay what I owe. Well, maybe that’s going a bit too far. Let’s just say I pay what I owe. It’s figuring out what I owe that’s the issue.

For this I blame my CPA, or should I say the woman who WAS my CPA. Each year, well before April 15th, she sent me a folder with a list of questions about that year’s finances. I sent it back, she did her magic, I subsequently paid her then said, “See ya next year!” But there was no next year because she actually had the audacity to retire a couple years ago.

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