Each year at Thanksgiving I’m reminded to begin the endless search for a journal for the New Year in which to record my brilliant, yet somewhat jaded, reflections. This year I bought a plain ole black book which I think was designed to be an artists sketch book…significant I believe, since I will use it to sketch out the life I’ve been chasing for more than 60 years. (and haven’t yet caught).
Apparently so if you watched the news yesterday. Women all over the country were whining about these unsolicited gestures that “bombard” them while walking city streets. Oh pity the abomination!
Well, weh weh, you cry babies. Stand tall and savor the satisfaction of knowing someone appreciates the way you look. I mean why else do we spend hours on our hair and
As long as I can remember I have been searching for something just beyond my grasp. If I had a good hair day, I wanted a great hair day. If my bathroom floor was shiny and clean, I wanted it to be made of marble.
Several people have asked who my models were for the front cover of my book “Love, Laughter & Losing my Keys.” Well, they are my best friends for five decades including from left Norma Clark Atkins, yours truly who is high on Ensure – seriously, that’s what we are drinking (or was it a Cosmopolitan, I forget) , Brenda Wiygul Chambliss, and Marie Portera.