It's definitely weird,
and it has a wicked sense of humor.
On Tuesday of this week, July 17th, Time
frisbee'd another birthday to me, and I am now 60.
Now how stupid is that?
And why is it that while my outside is definitely 60,
my inside still thinks it's 25? Or, sometimes, 12.
Heck, I haven't yet decided what I want to be when I grow up.
Whatever I decide, it better not take too many years of schooling.
I'm just sayin' . . . .
What about you?
Does your inside match your outside's age?
For me, saying "I'm sixty" just makes me want to giggle.
Of course, this brings me closer to my ultimate plan.
If I am lucky enough to reach 80, I am going to claim to be 100.
'Cause when you are 100, you can pretty much do
whatever you dang well please, and people help you do it.
And I'll start smoking. So there, Surgeon General.
Who's going to bug a 100 year old lady to quit smoking?
No pictures today! No time -- leaving now to work
at the antiques mall. The heat wave has broken here -- hallelujah! -- Cass