Over on fifty|fifty vision I’ve been experimenting with one line memoirs. It came from the idea of six word stories, which lots of people (starting with Hemingway) do so well. Not surprisingly, I can’t seem to contain myself to six words. But give me a few more, and it’s a fun ride through my overactive and need-for-immediate-results imagination. My piece for fifty|fifty is more midlife memoir-ish. Here's a different take, all in first person, based on what’s happening right now.
This morning I slapped myself. In the face. With my purse strap. My inability to get out of the house unscathed astounds me.
I have not missed an episode of Survivor in 28 seasons. I am not convinced that should be a point of pride. Or even admitted to others.
Sitting still, very still, is good for you. Please tell my husband that sitting on a bike only counts if you’re not moving.
It is truly unfair that one’s children move away at the precise moment they become interesting adults, stop mocking their mother, and start making their own money. Coincidence?
Salted caramel makes sense. Low fat cheese, not so much. Not sure about rose wine. Decaf coffee, not in the conversation.
Boy, there are some stupid people in this world. And sometimes they are all living in my own head.
A man sat next to her and said, “Don’t freak out, but I am going to take off my leg.” And that was only the beginning of my youngest daughter’s most recent adventure.
That woman who comes into the gym all cute and sassy, with a tight booty and shoulders that rival Michelle Obama’s? The one who hops on the treadmill and starts running backwards? Yeah, that wasn’t me.
How can something as simple as a a whiff of honeysuckle can give me so much pleasure?
It was a relief to discover that something was indeed broken, and the broken part wasn’t me.
I keep my Obama sticker on my car to annoy those who don’t have hope. Also to remember change takes time.
My favorite description for everything ridiculous, jumbled, and never-ending is “it’s like a clown car.” It works for my brain, my closet, my calendar, and obviously, my car.
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