(Postmarked 1996. Seven year old Weronika is 21 years older than she was when she sent this. Thank you some more, dear Weronika. It's one of the sweetest memories from my Postcrossing days.)
I feel old today. No. I'm allowing myself to feel old. Old, and happy, and chomping at the bit. Not sad, depressed, or lonesome. Am seriously considering milking all to the last drop. *wink* Self-indulgence isn't always a bad thing you know, so I'm feeling all of 92-crowding-up-on-93 while my birthday isn't until next spring. Maybe getting a head start is a good thing; I'll know how it feels when I get there 'cause I'm practicing.
I imagine that I know how this little kitty feels, only there's a good probability that I am addicted to the hot water bottle. How else could I have burned myself until I blistered--yet again--and couldn't tell the difference between the pain from the old surgery site and fresh burning? None of that changes the fact that I must rest the pained spine, shoulder, arm . . . Brain? No pain, no gain, my ass. Stupid people say such foolish things, and even foolisher people believe them. Besides, I am no martyr. Martyrs die young. I'm old. Older. Wiser. Alive. And in need of more great blog posts to read while I heal. The blisters have to be healing since they itch like crazy. So, this is me taking an Old Person Day. Days. One-handed typing is frustrating. Wow! JC brought home so much mail! Gotta go. TTYL.
"A fundamental concern for others in our individual and community lives would go a long way in making the world the better place we so passionately dreamt of." Nelson Mandela
I believe this is part of what the ladies at the LWA tried to act on and encourage us to do. I'm all in.
Happy Nelson Mandela Day! Thanks, Olivia.
Write more letters! You never know when someone might really-really-really need a bunch.
I'm off to wallow in mail.
P.S. How bad did I feel? I missed the season opener of Game of Thrones! And I don't need a shoulder-arm to watch HBO!