Anything could happen when you’re Bex and feeling goofy. Muhhahaha!
I have an abundance of flavor pouches for my water. I am seriously over-doing the water.
I found a $5 shirt at Dollar General, and darned if the thing isn’t the most comfy, but nice looking shirts, I have ever worn..color me surprised, but I think I have a new favorite.
I am getting that “Spring cleaning itch again” this cannot be good.
I am getting interesting insights into my baby photo…
“I think it’s quite funny that the expression on your baby photo is an expression you still make to today when you are thinking things over lol”
I am going to dye my hair AGAIN….being old sucks..but I kinda like it, in a weird way. It means I survived stuff and now can practice getting away with being an ornery old person, just like the famous poem says.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me,
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals,
and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired,
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells,
And run my stick along the public railings,
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens,
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat,
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go,
Or only bread and pickle for a week,
And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats
and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
And pay our rent and not swear in the street,
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me
are not too shocked and surprised,
When suddenly I am old
and start to wear purple!
I wrote my own respectful nod to this poem years ago,
When they say I am too old for laughter
I will braid my hair into two long plaits
and put lavender sprigs in between them
to lighten up my winsome heart
and bring fresh air to my earlobes.
I will dress in cotton thin as skin
and thread a length of ribbon across the bodice.
To celebrate my woman’s breasts
and bring forth thoughts of tender romancing.
I will race my feet down the hillside
and feel giddy from the threat of tumbling
head over heels into the scent of wildflowers
and bring forth joy that rides the air like sunlight.
Though, my hair is threaded with grey,
and my stomach sticks out somewhat rudely.
I will pretend, for just this day, that I am a maiden still
and encourage my spirit to embrace its beauty.