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 |  My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| PROMPT September 16th I know you've done it. I know I have. Tell us about a time you were inappropriately dressed for the occasion. Most of the occasions I celebrate require casual dress, nothing high-falutin' or fancy-shmancy. I did remember to don a floor length white gown for my wedding, but I never was too keen about the lace veil. I felt it was over the top and unnecessary. I've always disliked hats, headdresses and the like. Was it appropriate? I'd argue no, but Mom insisted. She muttered the word tradition. I absolutely vetoed donning white gloves. That was a non-starter. In my mind only butlers wore white gloves, or members of the military, specifically Navy and Marine personnel I believe? I don't make it a habit to wear black to funerals. Is that inappropriate? I prefer colour and black is not a staple of my wardrobe. Speaking of funerals... I rarely step out in dresses or frocks. I'm a jeans and t-shirt gal. Seven years ago, my Mom died unexpectedly and I scrambled to shop for a dress. Yes, I admit, it was an ill-conceived attempt to placate her contemporaries and a handful of traditional relatives. Entering a church should be done in a dress and not jeans. Not many of the store offerings appealed to me and I settled for whatever I could find. During the funeral service and the delivery of my eulogy I had to rise to my feet several times. I was front and centre to a packed house. Did I mention I'd recently undergone knee surgery and refused to wrestle with panty hose because the fresh scar still felt sensitive? The mourners saw my whiter than white legs marred by an angry red slash. I could deal with that. What I had not anticipated was a hemline that rode up every time I stood. Yep, I'd purchased something akin to a mini. Not to worry an aunt seated behind me in the pews made it her business to tug down my dress. As she later laughed she'd covered my ass-ets. Oh and as an homage to my mother who loved to wear bracelets I chose to wear her silver charm bracelet that day. When I stood, when I walked, when I breathed that darn bit of jewellery tinkled, but in the hush of the church it sounded more like clanking. It also liked to snag things. Copious hugging is a bereavement staple and that bracelet latched onto many sweaters and jackets. After my eulogy I crossed to where my youngest sister was seated in a front pew to embrace her. Yep, I snagged her hair. That charm bracelet qualifies as inappropriate, right? |
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