“What did I just say?”

 

(A true Minnesota story…)

This is what happens when 18 zillion inches of snow fall to earth in the autumnal days of October…and foolish you go outside even though your wife tells you “Don’t do it…”

So yesterday I was sitting here writing and looking outside my patio doors and the birds were flying past like it was a damn freeway during rush hour.

I was busy…writing…so I didn’t get up to investigate. I would have failed miserably as an investigative reporter…

THIS morning I walked over to see if any of the 18 zillion inches of snow had melted (some had) and I happened to look down…and saw a broken sprinkler head…except it wasn’t a broken sprinkler head…

It was a robin. Deader than a door nail. It’s little feet pointed straight up. Wings slightly fluffed. Red breast looking almost alive… I couldn’t see his head…under the snow…I hope.

So now I know why all the birds were flying by my door yesterday…it was a “fly by funeral”.

Today…like just now…I saw one robin walk stoically by my window heading for the dead robin…which was out of my current range of sight. It was a female robin. Perhaps this was “the wife”.

I know just what she said as she looked down at his little dead body… maybe even pecking his cold, frozen corpse for emphasis…

She said, “I told you not to go outside…but noooooo....you had to get one last worm before we left for Texas.”

Is there a moral to this story? Yes. She’s always right…

P.S. I was going to attach a photo of Mr. Dead Robin (not that I could actually do this with any semblance of professionalism) but chose not to…since after looking again at Mr. Dead Robin…I don’t think there actually IS a head. You’re welcome…

Have a a nice day…

A single girl’s journey from Pizzazz to Fizzle…

THEN

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I was remembering the other day, how it was when I was young, legal and single and still living at home with my parents.

They were my best friends, so I saw absolutely no reason to give my hard-earned money to complete strangers for the privilege of living in some crappy apartment…where I would obviously have to clean, cook and do my own laundry.  I wasn’t an idiot.

Anyway…I remember many, weekend nights I would come home from some trendy bar…after drinking, dancing and smoking cigarettes for hours with my girlfriends.  Don’t judge me…it was the early 60’s–even my doctor smoked…and that was during my yearly check-up!!

As the night would wear on, I always hoped the cute lead singer of the band was smiling at me…I don’t believe that he ever was…but still…

Soon I would be just a little tipsy….okay, okay let’s just say I was intoxicated.  (Drunk is such a harsh word.)  The bar was closing and it was time to leave.

Since it was the weekend, I didn’t have to get up and go to work the next day.  Blessing.

One of my friends (the one who didn’t drink…or drank much less than the rest of us) would drop me off at my home.

I would ever so quietly unlock the door, open it, slip off my shoes and softly meander into my bedroom where I would fall carelessly onto my twin bed.  “Good Night Moon”

Many…most times:  No removal of clothing. No pajamas.  No face washing or teeth brushing.  No pillow fluffing.  Just a silent prayer that the  bed hadn’t been moved during the day, since by now my eyes were closing.

Bedtime ritual for slightly inebriated single girl of the sixties…accomplished!!

Ta Da!!!!  (No drum roll, please.)

NOW

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Age:  No longer young.

Weekend nights, I actually start thinking about ‘going to bed’ a couple of hours before I actually ‘go to bed’.

I can’t believe I just wrote that.  That is so embarrassing.

You know…I had a long (really long) list of nightly chores that I now do every night before I go to bed and then go to sleep.  I was going to share that list with you…so that you too could join me on this fun trip down memory lane…but it was so boring that I decided to scrap that idea.

Suffice it to say…Old age sucks.

THEN was better…MUCH better…

Have a nice day…

 

 

Interesting little observation of mine this morning.

I turned 76 today…thank you, thank you.  Good wishes received and appreciated.

HOWEVER,  as I flipped to the Isaak Asimov’s Super  Quiz in the morning newspaper…my eyes flicked over to the obituary page where I saw a photo of this lovely looking woman…who was unfortunately now dead.

She was 72.  My cup of coffee paused on its way to my mouth.

Then I glanced around…just very casually…nothing too deep here…and I discovered that  there were about 3 or 4 other people…now dead…who were at least 4 or 5 years younger than me.

Jesus H. Christ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN?

Have a nice day…

P.S.  I wonder what the “H” stands for in this time honored swear phrase.  Henry?  Horace? Holy?  See?  This is what happens when you age and approach death.