I had a great response to yesterday’s blog about aging. Lots of views. Lots of visitors. And a good number of comments. Really interesting comments. We had good conversations. But me thinks there are those among you who may think I’ve caved.
Succumbed. Given up. Given in to getting older. Accepted it. Admitted defeat.
Moi? Are you kidding? Nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing.
Yes, I’m getting older. I’ll cop to that. How can I not? It’s true. It’s a fact. Happens to the best of us. But that doesn’t mean I have to take it laying down. None of us do. So I decided a Part Two was in order. A sequel, if you will. Because there’s something you should know about me. I don’t give up easily.
Let’s begin at the beginning. When it comes to aging it is my belief that regardless of what’s going on in your body, getting old is all in your head. My mother was proof of that. She had incredible joie de vivre. She loved life. She never allowed the number of years she’d been on this planet to define her. She was defined by her spirit, her zest for living. In her mind she was ageless.
Her attitude is best described by this Satchel Paige quote: “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you was?” As far Continue reading →
Getting older is not something I dwell on. I can’t entirely avoid it like I could even four or five years ago, but it’s not constantly on my mind. Thankfully, because if it was I probably would have stuck my head in the oven long ago. But yesterday Michelle, over at The Green Study wrote a thought-provoking post on aging.
She was talking about some changes she’s noticing. Not that she’s old, by any means. But like the rest of us, time’s marching on.
I’ve got to say until the last year or so I didn’t really notice myself getting older. It’s amazing what we can block out of our minds, isn’t it? Well, okay, I agree, it’s hard not to notice some things. Like menopause. But I know young women with crow’s feet and laugh lines. And even grey hair.
Look at Anderson Cooper. Yes, I know he’s a guy. But he’s still young and his hair is pure white. That’s my only point here.
Where was I anyway? Yeah, there comes a point when your memory starts to go. DON’T PANIC. It doesn’t Continue reading →
Do you like your name? Do you think it ‘fits’? You know, does it suit you? Does it feel like you? When you hear someone call your name do you automatically think, “Yeah, that’s ME.” I only ask because first names were the topic of yesterday’s WordPress Daily Prompt.
In case you’re wondering, I do not. Like my name. Never did. I feel misplaced in it.
My given name is Frances. Definitely not me. Too unimaginative. Too formal. Too prissy. Too straight. Too straight laced. Too prudish. Too serious. Too strict.
No disrespect intended, by the way, if your name is Frances. This is just how I feel, given my particular personality.
The other reason I’m not crazy about it is, despite the difference in spelling, whenever I hear it, I immediately think of Francis the Talking Mule. Don’t have a clue who I’m talking about?
He — yes I know that because males spell their names with an “i” instead of an “e” — was a mule celebrity, featured in seven
Now here’s a mind twister for ya. “If you could switch blogs with any blogger for a week, with whom would you switch and why?” Neat, huh? Well, I can’t take credit for it. That was the subject of yesterday’s WordPress Daily Prompt.
Makes you think, doesn’t it?
I thought about it on and off for a couple of hours. Which blogger would I like to change places with? I follow more than a hundred WordPress bloggers. As in, I get an email whenever they/you publish a post. So as you can well imagine, I had a lot to ponder.
The more I thought about it, the more difficult it became to make a decision. Or to even get close to one. Continue reading →
Just last week I wrote about the challenge I gave myself about ten months ago. Specifically, starting a blog, this one in fact, where I would write something new everyday, for a year. At the time I had no purpose other than to see if I could do it. If I’d stick with it. If I’d be able to come up with an idea to write about each day.
Thinking about it now, I’m not sure why I thought daily writing was a challenge I needed. I’ve spent my entire career in the advertising industry. Where I wrote copy every day. Not that I do now that I freelance, though.
Even if I did, this (blog), of course, is somewhat different. It’s not copy I’m writing here. There are no clients involved. I’m not selling any products or services. But what’s really different is, with the blog I’m not writing in
No, this isn’t a story about Joan Rivers. In fact, until this very moment, I hadn’t realized I’d stolen her line. “Let’s talk”. Didn’t she used to say that? I don’t think she uses it anymore, so hopefully there’ll be no royalties involved.
I mean it in a totally different context anyway.
My version has to do with yesterday’s WordPress Daily Prompt: The Next Big Thing. The question for us to answer was, “What will the next must-have technological innovation be?”
“Envy is the most stupid of vices, for there is no single advantage to be gained from it”. Honore de Balzac
I love this quote. I totally agree with it. There is nothing to be gained from it. And as far from perfect as I am, I cannot think of a single instance where I’ve been jealous of anyone. Ever. I don’t care if you are richer. If you’re prettier. If you’re thinner. If you’re taller. If you’re smarter. If you have a handsome husband. Perfect kids.
It matters not if you have a larger house. A faster car. Nicer clothes. Whiter teeth. Deeper dimples. A smaller nose. Blonder hair. Bigger breasts. A tinier waist. More bling. More friends. Fewer bills. Less debt. More credit. A better job. A bigger office. More assistants.
Don’t expect me to worry if you have more talent. More opportunities. More recognition. More fans. More followers. More success.
My eyes may be green, but I don’t have a jealous bone in my body.
Jealousy is not in my nature. Frankly I think it’s a waste of time. And effort. And energy.
Yesterday I wrote about the goal I set for myself when I started this blog. The author of Book Peeps, a WordPress blog I follow, commented. When I responded to her comment, I talked about how my career in advertising, an industry where ‘ideas’ are what we sell, has taught me how to find inspiration.
She then wrote back, suggesting I make that the subject of another blog post. Here it is.
It’s interesting. Whenever I tell anyone I blog each and every day I get the same reaction. “I wish I had your discipline”, is one. And the other is, “I don’t know where you get all those ideas”.
Obviously there’s nothing I can say or do to make you, or anyone else, a disciplined writer. It’s something you have to do for yourself. You either are, or you aren’t. My contention is, you have to want to do it. Whether it’s
It feels like I’m becoming addicted to the WordPress Daily Prompts. Nothing wrong with it. They offer up some terrific ideas. Like yesterday’s. “Goals”. When you started your blog, did you set any goals? Have you achieved them? Have they changed at all?
How could I not write about this topic?
Of course I set goals when I decided to start this blog. Well, ONE goal, to be precise. But it’s a WHOPPER! A goal is its whole reason for being.
My goal was to write every single day for a year. 365 days. Every twenty-four hours. Fifty-two weeks. Twelve months. An entire annum. Day in. Day out. Week days. Weekends. Holidays. Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall. Rain or shine. In sickness and in health. Come hell or high water. Without fail. No days off for good Continue reading →
Normally I probably wouldn’t have used yesterday’s WordPress Daily Post as inspiration for a story. “Bittersweet Memories”. “You receive a gift that is bittersweet and makes you nostalgic. What is it?”
It is a bit too melancholy for me. But I was at the hospital volunteering when I read it; and it instantly conjured a memory for me.
When my mother moved to Toronto she knew no one, other than me and my closest friend. When I was growing up she was a hospital volunteer. It was always something she enjoyed doing, so she told me she planned to do it here, as well. It would not only give her something to do, she figured it would also be a good way to meet people. So she signed up for two days a week, Mondays and Tuesdays.
She moved here when she was seventy-five. By the time she turned eighty, she’d made quite a few good friends. I wanted to make her a party. Eighty is, after all, a milestone. She didn’t want a party. She said she’d prefer to