Have you caught it? You know, Olympic fever.
That marvelous illness that makes us want to set a timer when we run to the mailbox. Awesome. I obliterated my last time by four seconds. Bam.
I’m completely hooked. Yesterday I jumped from our front porch swing and stuck the landing.
Even my 2 ½ -year-old grandson jumps around “competing,” then stops and places his hand over his heart. I guess it’s never too early to practice your victorious national anthem stance. Continue reading
I have a confession to make.
Sometimes I feel, well…old. Tired. Done.
It usually happens when I catch my reflection somewhere and think, Who in the world is that? Or maybe I glance at my hands on the car’s steering wheel and get confused. Surely the rest of me doesn’t look that old!
Rather strange, this aging thing. I mean, really. What’s with the spots on my arms and the droopy eyelid thingy? And let’s not even talk about the weird aches and pains…
Regrettably, sometimes the whole visual thing seeps into my mind and heart and I’m tempted to just quit. What’s the point of learning, growing, striving? Maybe it’s time to put my feet up and let the world rush on by—just flip on the TV and put my brain on autopilot.
I have another confession to make.