Whew. My first run in with the bard and I lived to tell the tale. I did not even stink up the place. I could tell from the faces of the audience that they were enjoying themselves and actually understanding the words that were being pulled from my ass to my mouth (I did the…
Okay, slightly North of toe. Earlier this week I had a brain MRI – don’t understand the results one bit, but at least they found something rattling around in my punkin’ head; waiting to hear from doctor whether I should be worried or not. (AND I HATE WAITING.) Today, I had a colonoscopy and an…
Michigan – April 16, 2026. Weather. Okay, I found that old book with instructions on how to build a big ass boat. Now would someone kindly tell me what a cubit is?
Holy crap. Seriously. Most people my (advanced) age are on some form of Medicare. However, my husband is still working (that’s what happens when you marry a sweet young thing) and we have private insurance through his work. And of course, every year, his company looks at, and sometimes changes, the health insurance choices. In…
Believe it or not, I don’t always have a scowl on my face. Sometimes, something sneaks up on me and makes me smile.
At least, our front yard is. Remember last year, which a good proportion of was spent dealing with the township putting in a storm drainage system (to help the people who live in the back corner of our neighborhood who were having a lot of flooding issues)? We lost 3 huge oak trees out front? …
When I was scheduled for my first (treadmill) stress test, the nurse took one look at me and said (or at least thought loudly), “Oh hell no.” Fast forward a few weeks, and I’m at the hospital for a chemical-induced stress test. They are so cute there. So worried about my modesty. What modesty? I’m…
Those who truly know me won’t argue the point; but just to be clear – my mood swings can rival those of any 2 year old. I had a boss who referred to me as Terrible Ter (yes, I asked him to stop and he did, wise choice Mr. Dynda). When I am hungry or…
Yes. It’s natural. No. I don’t know why my fat old lady hair has decided it’s time to have a party on my head.
Our fat cat Berta just keeps ringing up the bills. A couple of days ago, I’m ready to go to bed and Berta is not in her usual place near the hallway (so she can monitor any chance to be fed). Instead, she’s in the kitchen, sitting there. She doesn’t come when I call her. …
Thoughts from a Fat Old Lady 