Ramblings

For years, we've all heard the saying about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks. I have never really subscribed to this philosophy, whether it be used about dogs or about humans that are set in their ways. As someone who inevitably worked as a trainer in nearly every type of job she ever had, I like to believe that there is often a way to get one's message across. Heck, even The Lunatic is able to learn, although lately this female canine has also found that sometimes things just make themselves apparent to her seemingly spontaneously. Man, The Lunatic is a wordy one, isn't she? It's difficult to believe that one of her high school English teachers told her that her term papers were too succinct and suggested that she take a creative writing course to allow more words to flow freely from her pen, isn't it?

I guess what I'm thinking at the heart of it all is that like a fine wine, or maybe a stinky cheese, sometimes we get better with age. Case in point - many people's behavior as grandparents is far different than it was as parents. They've seen and done a lot, so they're not as excited about a kid getting covered with dirt or eating a few cookies. Although I'm still the Second Meanest Woman in the World, I've mellowed out a bit. Most of the time this pleases me, but there are moments when I get disappointed about this. Just when I'm approaching the years when I can get away with being a cranky old lady, I'm getting slightly softer as I age. And I don't mean in my head, I'm still tarp as a shack.

Of course, it's not just my meanness that softening. My arms and legs and heinie are getting mooshier, too. And what's up with the whole hair thing? A few years ago, I decided to let my hair go, and let it grow. It's now long enough to accidentally, or on purpose but that ain't happening, tuck into my pants. But where the heck did it all go? When I was younger, it was so thick that it would take all day to air-dry. Now when I use the smallest size of hair band to tie it up, I can wrap that little sucker around my ponytail about eighty-seven times. Last evening I tried to console myself by saying that at least one part of my body is thin. Yes, you're right in guessing that these words of consolation really didn't work.

Something that definitely hasn't changed is my love of food. Boy, did Liz and I have some delicious food when she was here. And some lousy stuff, too, but life is like that. I have a tendency to go through phases where I just can't seem to get enough of a certain type of food, But lately, some of these morsels are losing their charm. Who would have ever imagined The Lunatic losing her love of potato chips? Or butter flavored popcorn? And horror of horrors, the other day I realized I no longer have a desire to eat bacon. Yes, I seem to have lost my taste for meat candy. I want green beans instead. Or big fat cherries. Or dried mango. I don't know, let's give it a week or two and see what happens. Maybe by then, I'll be ready to order Chinese food again. Or an Italian ice. Or maybe a baguette.

Random thought: I recently learned that a post-menopausal woman can continue to have hot flashes for 20 or more years. Ain't that a kick in the head?

***************************************************************

The Tip Jar:

As always, I am happy and honored to write for you. It brings me great joy, and I hope that it gives you joy and/or food for thought. If you'd like to support the cause, please visit:

https://www.paypal.me/TheLunatic