Name this Blog Entry…I Can’t!

Have you ever seen a possum up close, nasty mouth wide open and growling…or hissing? (I’m not sure how to describe the sound it was making.) It’s a scary sight I hope I never see again but I suspect I will. Last night Levi was in his dog pen when he started barking like his world was on fire and I ran out to see what was going on. Usually it’s just a rabbit on the other side of the fence but this time I found him barking at a possum he had cornered and all that separated them was two feet of ground and a couple of empty flower pots. I tried to grab Levi’s collar but he dodged me and darted around to my other side and took up the turf war again. Finally---after a lot of chasing and me worrying that the possum would bite me or the dog---I was able to latch on to Levi and herd him into the garage. I didn’t know I could move that fast! The rest of the night Levi begged at least ten times to go outside only instead of me letting him out the back door to his pen, I hooked him up on his leash and took him out the front door which, of course, wasn’t what he wanted. I didn’t dare say “no” because that would be the time he’d actually have to poop and he’d punish the carpeting for my refusal to let him out. 

From scary creatures in nature to gentle creatures. This week I went to the Butterflies in Bloom Exhibit at the sculpture garden. It’s the third time I’ve been invited to join my youngest niece, her two daughter-in-law’s and her four grand babies. One of the babies is five-six months old and I was surprised she was able to focus on a dozen butterflies at a feeding station. Her eyes were huge, her tiny mouth formed a perfect “O” and her little legs were kicking a mile a minute. She was strapped into one of those carriers on her mom’s belly and it was too bad her mom couldn’t see the baby’s face. They don’t allow strollers into the tropical conservatory where the butterflies are and the two with our group were the first two parked in the stroller area. When we came back out there were easily two dozen. These young moms in my family sure were impressive as they juggled the needs of babies and toddlers. Diaper changes and nursing for the babies and potty breaks and healthy snack times for the toddlers. 

From babies to old ladies. Sorry if calling myself and others in my age bracket “old” offends anyone. Well, actually I’m not sorry but I have been told by several people that the word “old” is an insult and referring to myself as old or elderly doesn’t fit a septuagenarian. Ya, sure. Accepting our ages and the stereotypes that go with whatever age bracket we’re going through at the time can be ego deflating. But be honest here, many of those stereotypes are based on facts. 

When Don turned 50 he was dreading his birthday and he got on a kick where he’d tell waitresses that he just turned 60 and he’d ask them if that qualified for a senior discount. These waitresses knew us as regular customers and they would reply variations of, “Wow, you sure don’t look your age!” After joking back and forth Don would admit the truth and we’d all have a good laugh. This went on for several weeks around his birthday until one day we went to a state park where the girl taking the money at the entrance didn’t know us. After Don pulled this fishing-for-compliments routine, the girl looked Don squarely in the eyes, gave him the senior discount day pass and handed him his change. The look on his face as we drove away was priceless and that was the very last time he pulled that joke. (If you think you’ve heard this story before, you did. Back in 2013 I wrote about it. See, I’m living up to the stereotype of old people repeating themselves.) 

Boy, did I get off track from writing about having brunch with my Gathering Girls pals at the Guy-Land Cafeteria. I was there by myself a few days before, early in the morning, and I was reminded of why I coined that name for the place. I was outnumbered thirty to one. It would be impossible to figure the ratio of men vs. women at our brunch, though, because we were there 3 ½ hours (!) while others came and went. (Don’t worry, there were always plenty of tables free. Two of us worry about things like that and about not taking up tables that are bigger than our needs...while one lady in our group thinks we’re crazy for caring about stuff like that.) And get this: we ate twice and joked about staying a few more hours and having dinner, too. In our defense, we had to stay that long because we got off to a slow, doom-and-gloom start before for we got to the silly, belly laughter banter that is our signature, get-together mode. All’s well that ends well. Now, if only I could come up for a name for this blog entry! Can you? ©