I meet a girl and think she is lovely.
I assume she's about 6-8 years older than I am.
I discover she is my age.
Folks, IT'S HAAAAAPPENING......! I am beginning to look older than I feel inside. And although I know I'm still a spring chicken, my internal monologues are beginning to sound like the things I used to hear older, graying people say:
"My wrinkling skin sure does belie my perky soul."
"This body of mine ain't got nothin' on my youthful spirit."
"How did my body run ahead and age like this, when my soul hasn't aged a day?"
There is nothing to do about this but grieve. And buy eye cream. And plug my ears when my friends talk about being middle-aged (is 29 middle-aged?! It can't be...) And look forward to heaven.
2. My family does not think this is the cutest dog they ever did see.
"Its eyes have been photoshopped; those are human eyes," one of them said. "That thing is disturbing," another said. "Sarah. Ummmmm. Hmmm."
Someone call the optomotrist. My family needs glasses.
3. This is one of my favorite pictures of all time. Notice the looks of unabashed delight etched on our four childish little faces as we whiz down Splash Mountain for the first time.
Our faces. You guys. The fear. The panic. The thought that life may soon be over. This picture makes me howl with laughter. Actually, it makes everyone in my family howl with laughter. We love texting it to each other periodically.
4. My friend mentioned "heckleberries" in a text last week. As in, "What the heckleberry?" I wondered, what is a heckleberry like? I think it must taste tart and zippy and come in all sorts of colors — purples, blues, reds, yellows, depending on where it grows. And it grows everywhere. The mountains of Colorado, the plains of Minnesota, the streets of New York.
Also, I think it is a mischief-inducing berry. Take care when eating heckleberries; you never know what they'll tempt you to do...
Hmmm, what else do we know about heckleberries?
5. My autocorrect keeps turning "heckleberries" into "huckleberries." I used to love huckleberries, but I I have not eaten them in 20 years. The last time I ate huckleberries I was with Jake Long up in Indian Heaven. For hours we laid in a huckleberry patch swallowing fistfuls of berries while our siblings filled their berry-picking buckets nearby. We ate until our fingers were stained purple and we had no appetite for lunch. Or dinner. Or huckleberry pancakes the next morning. It turns out eating buckets of huckleberries can make a kid feel really sick. That week I vowed I'd never eat a huckleberry again. But a heckleberry, well, that's another story.
6. Last week, at the Valentine's Day dinner the boys prepared for us, I got photobombed. That is, I made the mistake of leaving my phone unattended on the table. Three minutes and 300 photos later (I do not exaggerate), I retrieved my phone. But you don't photobomb Sarah J. without receiving retribution. That is, you don't photobomb me with at least 5 of those 300 photos being posted for all the world to see.
Robert Carter, you're a selfie bomber extraordinaire.
7. Happy Thursday, everyone! The weekend is aaaaalmost here!
© by scj