Moving on....

A friend and I have talked about what we would be like when we are old. Some days, I really feel "old", but that is usually self-inflicted by over-doing it in the barn or yard or whatever. By "OLD", I mean OLD... in our 80s or 90s.

What will we be like?
So often we see older folks, nicely dressed, maybe a little scatter-brain or forgetful, who are dignified and mannerly. Oh sure, there is the occasional crazy old coot, but for the most part, the old folks you see in public are "normal". This will most DEFINITELY not be me!

I am getting to the point where I really don't care what other people think of me. They either like me for who I am or they don't. I have REAL friends, and the ones that aren't real, I don't need. They are a waste of my time.

I am finding that life is getting much shorter, much faster than I expected, and surprise!!! There aren't any do-overs. So I find myself not caring if someone likes me or not. I intend to be who I am.

I will wear sweat pants and t-shirts that clash because I just came in from the barn and didn't want to get my "good" clothes dirty. Mike says I look like a frump. Ok... I look like a frump. People of Walmart - here I come!!

My hair will be pulled back in a ponytail because I didn't feel like running an eggbeater through it that morning. I will most like have hay and perhaps bits of manure in it. I'm ok with that. I can take a shower before I go to bed.

I won't need to wear "Granny Pampers" - I can go in the barn. I might need help getting back up, but at least I won't have to worry about whether or not I make it to the house. If I DO wear Granny Pampers, they won't be like everyone else's. I will get a Bedazzler and bling those babies out!

My walker or wheelchair will have a hot pink bicycle flag, a clown's horn, and pink sparkley streamers like they put on bicycles. Because I can. I will wear shorts and a tanktop that show my white chicken legs and my arm flab. My comfort is more important than whether or not "its gross". I will just be gross.

Since I will be gross, I might as well warn you that I will belch, fart, and pick my nose without a tissue. I will probably swear and say embarrassing things. I figure if I live to be 90 years old, I have earned the right!

The road is long and dusty, and I bear the scars of my stumbling. Oh yeah, I will have earned the right!