A Day in the Life of the Ladies

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Arise and shine!

 

So, today I was inspired to create a photo journal entry to show you guys what a typical day looks like for me.  Actually, this is not the first time I’ve done this.  Some of you may remember a similar post that I did a few months back called “Everyday Randomness.”

Believe it or not, that post proved to be quite popular-hence my decision to see if lightning will strike twice on the same blog!  LOL!

And so….

Here’s a typical day for Lady G:

Ok, no lies, it wasn’t really typical since my daughter, L’il Miss Lady J, was out of school for fall break.

But please rest assured knowing that Lady J and Lady G had quite the interesting day 😉

Here’s how it unfolded:

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A quick stop at Fresh Market.  Lady G’s mother used to love this place; she liked all of the delightful aromas that tend to waft through the store.  Lady J and Lady G sampled the fruit infused water; they were not that impressed.

 

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They were, however, impressed with this little seafood salad smorgasbord:)

 

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And with this vibrant floral display
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Lady G was captivated by the wine selection. Lady J was…. NOT!
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Moments later, Lady J concluded that desserts were much more fascinating than wine.
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After completing their tour of Fresh Market, the two ladies proceeded to take a scenic ride to the Land of Elsewhere.
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Be aware that Lady G and Lady J are HUGE fans of Halloween.  That said, no September or October day trip would be complete without them taking a peek at creepy things.
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The ladies also enjoyed other sensory delights! 

Ahem…May I have your attention for a moment in order to share a couple of quick stories?

Thank you 😉

While shopping, Lady J and Lady G met a noblewoman who shared that she had been to Paris, France nine times!

Hmm… I sense that you are wondering what prompted this confession.

Well, it seems that she overheard the ladies talking about their dream to go to Paris someday.  Such being the case, the dear gentlewoman decided to encourage the two to keep that dream alive.

Her parting words to the ladies were, “Tell God your dreams and keep your hearts open; then you can do anything you want to.”

One thing’s for sure, magical advice seems to follow the ladies wherever they go!

Not convinced?

Farther up the road, the two ladies came upon a cashier  Duchess who wore the most glamorous makeup!  She also sported a shiny rhinestone headband with matching diamondy earrings!

Naturally, the ladies complimented this exquisite specimen on her beauty.

As one might expect, the cashier Grand Dame, who was about 70 years old, replied, “Thank you!”  But, she went on to say, “I always dress up because there was a time when I couldn’t…you know, between taking care of my sick husband and father…I find that looking good makes me feel good.”

Magical advice?

Indeed!

Shall we proceed?

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Even the most proper Lady must attend to certain mundane duties 🙂
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Upon arriving home, Lady G decided to retire to her ‘Magic and Creativity Chamber.’
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Ah…but then she began to feel a bit lunchy!  😉
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Nightfall!  Lady G and Lady J prepare for a sky gazing session!  It’s one of their favorite past times! To their delight, in the Southeastern sky, The Harvest Moon appeared! Sadly, LadyG did not take a picture of the moon as she has found that I-Phones are inadequate for capturing such majesty.
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Alas, the Dragon of Ragweed has decided to slay Lady G.  Notice the tired eyes and dark circles. Oh well! Time to take some Benadryl.  Good night!

 

 

Such is the magical life of the ladies!

😘💋

 

Ron’s Time Tunnel: The Loveseat Part I

LOVESEAT

The tragic thing about Gramp was that, as she grew older, her memory started to fade; not her long-term memory. She never forgot those old stories but she did forget my name sometimes. During her latter years, I had ventured off into the “wild blue yonder” of the United States Air Force and only returned home twice a year at the most; so it wasn’t entirely unexpected that she would forget me. When I would return home on leave and knock on her door, she would open the door to, what for her, must have seemed a familiar face; but one she could not, for the life of her, recall a name for or where she recognized it from. She would greet me at the door; smiling that gold toothed smile, and welcome me warmly into her home. I could see the questions and confusion peeping through the smiling brown eyes, but she was too kind and polite to ask outright, as might have a less genteel host, “Who are you, and what do you want at this hour of the night?”

Eventually, after having offered her “uninvited” guest a “co-cola” or a glass of water and a seat on the worn, familiar sofa or one of the two, “Naugahyde” recliners lining three of the four walls of her quaint domicile, she would eventually get around to asking, albeit apologetically, “Now, who did you say you were?” To which I’d answer, “I’m Ronnie, your grandson; Fletcher’s oldest son”; being careful not to let any impatience, frustration, or sarcasm seep into my tone.

Then her brown eyes would flash with recognition and a smile would slowly spread across her kindly, golden toned face as she would chime, “Oh yes, you’re the one in the Army?” “Yes Gramp”, I would answer, not bothering to correct her on which branch of the military that I served in. It didn’t matter. I was home, here was Gramp and old stories were sure to be on the evening’s agenda. Anyway! In Cuthbert—my home town—everyone who was in the military was in the “Army”, as far as the citizenry was concerned.

The following story, entitled “THE LOVE SEAT” took place as I was visiting a friend’s mother in the nursing home. I sat in the “TV” room/lobby and waited while the Nurse’s Assistants changed my friend’s mother’s bed. As I sat on the LOVE SEAT I met a lady who reminded me of my Grandmothers; Nancy (Raytakka), Mollie, and Annie. Please enjoy THE LOVE SEAT:

     I never got her name, but as I sat there on the small “love seat” in the dayroom of the nursing home, or “Healthcare and Rehabilitation Center”, as some nursing homes are now called, she came and sat down beside me. She held her big red purse close to her chest with a white-knuckled grip that I’m sure would have caused me a degree of pain, had we shaken hands. She held that purse as if it contained a million dollars, or her life’s savings. She held it as if she believed that loosening her grip would have allowed the purse to just grow wings and fly away.

She sat down and immediately began an unsolicited conversation with me. I don’t know what made her choose me. Maybe I just looked friendly to her, or maybe I reminded her of the son who’d deposited her there in the “healthcare and rehab” and then forgotten her. Maybe this was her seat and it was I who was trespassing, or maybe there was just nowhere else to sit. I had not looked around, prior to her arrival, to see if the latter was the case. She whispered to me in a surprisingly strong, raspy voice, considering that she was a small-framed lady, with not much else covering her brittle bones except the thin, blue-veined, cream colored skin of a Black lady, through whose blue veins much Caucasian blood flowed. “You know I’m 92 years old?” she rasped. “What?” I’d replied in surprise.

“She gets around well for one so aged” slid a thought through my mind…

Please come back next week  for the conclusion to “The Loveseat”

Foxy Lady…Maybe?

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This post is dedicated to all foxy ladies everywhere; if you are a woman that means you!

“Yes honey, I was a fox back in my day!”

This is a picture of me from 20 something years ago.  I have a good handle on the year because I was a couple of months pregnant with my son.  You might remember him from one of my Sunday shout out posts.

Anyway, from time to time, I find myself telling the young’uns about how much of a fox I used to be.  Oh yeah, then I usually have to define ‘fox’ –lest they think I’m talking about a small woodland creature.

But just to be on the safe side, let me be clear, a “fox” is a good looking woman.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, I was telling you about my tendency to talk about having once been a fox.  Well baby one day after bragging about my former fox status, I caught myself thinking, “Why in the hell am I saying that?”

Or in other words, what matter does it make?  Or better yet, WHO GIVES A DAMN!

So what if I  ‘used’ to be a fox!  Whether that was the case or not, it is of absolutely no consequence at this point in time.

And so…

What about now?  Well,  I’d argue that all you former foxes need to unite with me and together we can work on accepting this whole aging thing. Come on!  We need to redefine what it means to be a “fox.” Let’s start by learning to love our graying hair and puffy eyes.  And while we’re at it, let’s start to treasure that eternal belly roll that many of us received from giving birth.  Don’t get me wrong, we should get and stay in shape for wellness purposes-first and foremost!

Hell that pudge ain’t going nowhere so long as folks believe in the myth of spot reducing-But I digress!

By the way, this isn’t all about looks!  It is my belief that our new ‘foxiness’ REQUIRES us to cultivate important traits like kindness, warmth, joy, wisdom, tenderness, generosity, loyalty and reverence for God (how ever God looks to you),mankind, and nature.

Once we are done accepting and cultivating all of the above, we must envelope our new selves with  LOVE.  I am not kidding !  This is real talk!

And now…let us go forth foxy ladies!  We’ve got a new generation of real foxes to raise!

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Foxy lady now:  Me laid bare-No makeup and no filters

 

 

 

Ron’s Time Tunnel: Halley’s Memories

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Halley’s Comet travels on an elliptical path throughout our solar system. Its journey carries it from; a close encounter of the hottest kind with our own roiling star; to the blackest, most frigid corners of the solar system. It makes this journey about every seventy-six years. Its closest approach to old Sol is called perihelion. It’s at this point of its sojourn that this ghostly apparition makes itself visible to the, astronomically challenged, human eyeball. Since 1066, human eyeballs have witnessed this apparition twelve times, thus establishing a pattern. This pattern is how we know, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the comet will be back to see us again in the year 2061…or not. What if, somewhere out in the farthest, darkest, coldest reaches of our solar system, something happens; some disaster of epic proportions befalls our friend? How would we know? Well we wouldn’t know, would we? At least, not until the year 2061 arrived and, old Halley was a “no-show”!

Newton tells us that for every action, there is an “equal and opposite reaction”; the opposite action of perihelion is aphelion. Halley’s travel through the aphelion phase of its journey is like; you’re riding through the “hood” on a dark, cold, and stormy night; without a cell phone! Anything could happen, right? And, the absolutely horrible thing is that no-one would know until, after a period of time—hopefully not too long—someone noticed that you were missing. “Poor Halley, he was such a good boy; so reliable; so punctual, and now he’s gone” I can hear the “Street Committee” saying. “Lord have mercy; what happened to him honey? His future was so bright!” they’d buzz.

Some memories are like Halley. I experience them often. I experience them more, and more as I ascend the creaky, unsteady, and decaying staircase of life. Sometimes, just as quickly as a thought or an idea surfaces from the murky depths of my mind, it’s gone; just like that! Those of the hoary head; those above me on this stairway tell me, “Don’t worry, its only natural; we’ve all experienced what you are experiencing now. Just keep on climbing and learn to make notes and lists!” Well, I’ve learned to take their advice, but what happens when, even before I can grab a pen and paper, the idea or thought is gone; fleeing as if on eagles’ wings. Even worse, sometimes I succeed in making a note or list before the thought takes flight and then…forget where I placed the list. Oh Heavens! Where in dickens do these thoughts go? Oh memory, where art thou? What’s memory? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. Thou blossom is beauty to me yet thou thorns prick me sorely and what leaks thereof are my thoughts and ideas. O, be kind hither.

Where do these things go? Are they like old Halley on its elliptical journey through the solar system; travelling to cold, unknown depths and eventually, returning at dusk of a warm spring evening, like the fireflies that sprinkle the spring night with their tiny lights? Will they travel to parts unknown, returning to me some night, as my head rests on my pillow and sleep flirts playfully with my eyelids? Yes, perhaps that is it! After all, there have been times when, after giving up on retrieving a particular memory, it returns. It just pops up, seemingly out of nowhere! “Where have you been little thought?” I ask, but it holds its dark secret close to its vacuous heart; leaving me to ponder its trip to aphelion!