The shoes I want, but can’t have

The shoes I want, but can’t have

A sensible shoe is the direction I seem to be going towards.  I can’t believe I wrote that.  My aching back and knees are now the forces behind which shoes are best suited for me.  My heart is telling me to wear those gorgeous gladiator knee length; multi-buckled flat sexy sandals (see the picture).  My back and knees are telling me that a little heal is needed as well as some arch support.  That sounds so “retirement plan” and I’m nowhere near retiring.  I’m just getting started…aren’t I?

Loving the Fog

Loving the Fog

The “To Do” list is very long and needs my attention. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do… But… I don’t care. I’m pleasantly in a fog. A glorious fog that rolled into my life. The same kind of dense fog you might wake up to along the coast of Maine. The billows of damp mist that rolls onto the coastline. The kind that feels cold, wet and humid. The kind of fog that immediately curls my untamed mane and dampens my skin.

Oh, to be like a chala roll

Oh, to be like a chala roll
That’s when I witnessed her awful, disrespectful behavior. Lady Number 48 started to ask for her foods with such words as, “Gimmie…, or,  I want…,  or,  Get me…, or, That, that
Then she used sentences like, “I don’t want that if it’s not fresh. I said I wanted this, not that. Don’t bother, that’s gross, Gimmie more of that nowGet me something else now.”

Un… Measure Measurement

Un… Measure Measurement

The Marathon was the great measurement of the ultimate run. Then the Triathlon was the measurement of the greatest combination athletic event. Now it’s the Ironman Extreme which is the greatest physical measurement and challenge. I wonder what the next great challenge will be or the next great measurement of the human challenge. Maybe it will be an opposite event?

How’s about running so far back in time you go from the present into the past. Let’s call this “The Run-Back in Time Has-been Marathon.”

I’ve Yet to Love Him, But I Do

I’ve Yet to Love Him, But I Do

I ask myself this question, how does this person finish our…sandwiches?
It’s nothing you can try to understand; it just is. Where did we meet? How did I know this person before? How does s/he understand what I’m about to say? Why is there so much connection without any connectivity? Is this a soul I’ve known before? It’s got to be more than what it is. But….there’s no known history.

Suzanne's article on The Suburban Magazine May 29th 2015
I’ve Yet to Love Him, But I Do