Easter Sunday approaches, and I’m the last person to get all preachy, but I was thinking about my faith and how it has been the guiding force in my life. Christ suffered the most horrible death imaginable, and we treat him and his Father like some kind of celestial Santa Claus with magical elves.
I figure I spend about an hour a day searching for things I’ve misplaced. The Land of Lost Stuff is exactly like a black hole, sucking in tax receipts and dog leashes, bank statements and earrings,and all the other important material bits and pieces of life we put down somewhere but can’t find when we want it (“Wasn’t it just on the toilet tank?”).
Apparently I’m not alone since it’s estimated the average person loses up to nine objects everyday. Commonly misplaced items includes the cellphone, keys, sunglasses, purse, umbrella, bank card, tablet, documents and wallet. I can’t find my tax return from last year, but have a drawer full of grocery receipts from 1978.
It’s official. I’ve gone and lost it. My mind that is. It just up and left me all of a sudden and I’m still reeling from the feeling.
It started when a friend of mine from California came to town for a visit and I invited her over for lunch. Since she’s way out on the west coast, she hasn’t gotten wind of my culinary disasters and didn’t even hesitate to accept my invitation the way my local friends do.
Get back in your box Baby Boomers! How dare you try to escape.
One of the greatest challenges Baby Boomers face as we age is how to dress ourselves without looking frumpy or like a wrinkled teenie bopper with tattooed legs (if you’re lucky enough to have spider veins).
It is like finding buried treasure when we actually stumble upon a pair of jeans that fit properly, or a pair of high heels you won’t tumble off of and break an ankle. Wearing matching ace bandages on your ankles is a prudent idea whose time has come. (This also makes people think you are athletic.)
Is it just me or does it seem as if men suffer from hearing loss 10 times more than the women in their lives? That’s certainly true of the men with whom I associate– including my two sons who habitually complain of not being able to hear out of whichever side I’m sitting on.