"The caterpillar ate through one nice green leaf, and after that [she] felt much better."
Had a dream that I cried in. Woke up crying. Still prone to tears. The healing process, she is a slow and slippery one.
I'm sure after breakfast and coffee I'll be okay.
I'm going to head to callahans_place and post the following:
Today is what would have been my sister's 29th birthday.
This kind of thing is what makes me look at birthdays differently. Lots of people - women, especially - look at birthdays with dread. They see it as getting older, and getting older is something that should be fought tooth and nail. The irony is, fighting the aging process seems to age you quicker.
What I see birthdays as is a celebration of being alive and kicking for another year. Making it around the sun again. Experiencing things that makes life worth living.
I remember when thirty was the milestone for 'getting old'. Nowadays it's just the beginning of adult life. And forty is supposed to be the new twenty, whatever the hell that means.
I'll be thirty-one in a couple of weeks, and I don't represent it well I'm afraid. I don't act it - ask anyone who knows me. On good days, I don't feel it. Other than an infestation of gray hairs - thanks, GrannySee - I don't look it. If I could present myself at an age that I better represented - somewhere in my mid-twenties, perhaps - I don't think I would. Just because I'd rather impress people than misrepresent myself.
Not that I wouldn't have teased Twiggy mercilessly about being a year away from thirty. Because she didn't look her age, either.
So. Here's to having birthdays. It sure beats the alternative.
I'm sure after breakfast and coffee I'll be okay.
I'm going to head to callahans_place and post the following:
Today is what would have been my sister's 29th birthday.
This kind of thing is what makes me look at birthdays differently. Lots of people - women, especially - look at birthdays with dread. They see it as getting older, and getting older is something that should be fought tooth and nail. The irony is, fighting the aging process seems to age you quicker.
What I see birthdays as is a celebration of being alive and kicking for another year. Making it around the sun again. Experiencing things that makes life worth living.
I remember when thirty was the milestone for 'getting old'. Nowadays it's just the beginning of adult life. And forty is supposed to be the new twenty, whatever the hell that means.
I'll be thirty-one in a couple of weeks, and I don't represent it well I'm afraid. I don't act it - ask anyone who knows me. On good days, I don't feel it. Other than an infestation of gray hairs - thanks, GrannySee - I don't look it. If I could present myself at an age that I better represented - somewhere in my mid-twenties, perhaps - I don't think I would. Just because I'd rather impress people than misrepresent myself.
Not that I wouldn't have teased Twiggy mercilessly about being a year away from thirty. Because she didn't look her age, either.
So. Here's to having birthdays. It sure beats the alternative.