Memory? What Memory?

This blog was originally posted in 2012…

I can’t really say my memory is not what it used to be because mine has always been pathetic. Some people are fortunate enough to recall childhood memories, such as who came to their ninth birthday party. I don’t even remember being nine, let alone a party. It’s gone – completely obliterated from the deep crevices of my gray matter.

Since my past has shaped the person I am today, it would be nice if I had a tad more recall. Bits and pieces of my life may be buried in the corners of my mind, but they’re stuck like Super Glue and not about to budge. For some, just mentioning a name or word from the past is all it takes to release the floodgates, and their memories spill out with perfect recall. Those people annoy me.

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It’s the Little Things

The older I get, the more I treasure the little things that, in my youth, I wouldn’t have given a second thought. Now don’t get me wrong; If you’re considered young and are reading this, you likely have no idea what I’m talking about. But if you ask me, enjoying the little things is one of the few perks of aging.

Now that I’m 70, I find I don’t sweat the small stuff like I did in my youth, aka, back when I had collagen and nary a gray hair. I barely recognize myself today from when I was 40, and not strictly by looks, although there’s that too.

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Christmas Tidings

Well, Christmas is in the rear-view mirror now, and I, for one, am not terribly sad about it. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not a humbug. I love Santa, the decorations, the classic Christmas movies I’ve watched for the last 50 years, etc. But what I’m not so keen on are crowds, traffic, people in a hurry, having too much to do and not enough time to do it. But unfortunately, I can’t blame anyone but myself. Hi, I’m Janet, and I’m a procrastinator.

Every year, I say I’m going to start earlier with my shopping and online orders. Never happens. I always think I’ll begin baking no later than December 1st. Nope. And that, my friends, is the crux of the matter.

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Abra Cadabra: The Disappearing Kitten

 This was first posted way back in July, 2013

I went to church on Sunday.

Now don’t get me wrong. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but to those who know me, it’s practically a miracle. You see, I haven’t been to the Big House in a couple of years. I used to be one of those holiday church-goers. You know the type; we attend for Christmas and Easter. Then it got to where I only appeared for weddings and funerals. But I’m relatively certain last Sunday wasn’t a holy holiday and nobody I know died or got hitched.

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The Death of Me

Hard to believe I wrote this in 2013, but there you go. Skip and Oliver are still with me, along with eight other pets who have also almost caused my death at one time or another.

I adore my pets, but I have little doubt they’re going to be the death of me.

Skip, Nellie & Callie
Skip, Nellie and Callie
Oliver
Oliver

You see, they’re determined to trip and kill me. You wouldn’t think animals would have a sinister side to them, would you? Well, I’m beginning to wonder. It can’t be a coincidence that it keeps happening, can it?

If you have animals, you know what I’m talking about. In my pets’ attempt to either get my attention, race me wherever I’m headed, or stick to me like glue because they adore me (yeah, right), I rarely make it through a day without avoiding a face-plant or near-death stumble.

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