Restorative soup in your sleep

 
Yesterday I was not feeling well.  I was yearning for my mother and some of her homemade chicken soup.  
 
Of course I didn’t feel like doing anything but napping on sofa while Netflix droned on the 7th ridiculous season of Gray’s Anatomy – fortunately I couldn’t hear It over Rebel’s snoring beside me on the sofa.  (This series started off with promise but collapsed into an embarrassing almost laughable soap opera.. I watch it for chuckles.)

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Cure for curmudgeons

 
As I continue waging the battle against aging, the thing I fear most is becoming a crotchety old curmudgeon who likes nothing and tells everyone he or she knows about all their dark views. Yes, women can become curmudgeons too and there is some evidence it is showing up in my daily interactions.
 
To wit: I toured a beautiful home in Tennessee recently which was picture perfect. Truly. We hadn’t gotten out the door good when we began listing all the tackiness we could spot.  “Could you believe they had an ashtray in the coffee table – An ashtray for Pete’s sake!” 

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