Granny's gone and done it again

[cherrynberry]

I am just plain tired, no matter how much i sleep. It's frustrating.

I feel the same some days. Was so busted from the SF trip I slept for a good two days before doing anything productive. Really should fix my sleep schedule

 

[Granny Hatchet]

At what age does middle age leave and you are considered old?

 

[pertnear09]

Just seen on the news that there has been 18 river drownings in California since April because of all the mountain snow melting. They said it's also dangerous to swim because of the hypothermia factor. Never swim alone.

 

[Cynthia12]

What does it feel like to be old?
The other day, a young person asked me: - What did it feel like to be old?
I was very surprised by the question, since I did not consider myself old. When he saw my reaction, he was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question. And after reflection, I concluded that getting old is a gift.
Sometimes I am surprised at the person who lives in my mirror. But I don't worry about those things for long. I wouldn't trade everything I have for a few less gray hairs and a flat stomach. I don't scold myself for not making the bed, or for eating a few extra "little things." I am within my rights to be a little messy, to be extravagant, and to spend hours staring at my flowers.
I have seen some dear friends leave this world, before they had enjoyed the freedom that comes with growing old.
-Who cares if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 in the morning and then sleep until who knows what time?
I will dance with me to the rhythm of the 50's and 60's. And if later I want to cry for some lost love...I will!
I'll walk down the beach in a swimsuit that stretches over my plump body and dive into the waves letting myself go, despite the pitying looks of the bikini-wearers. They'll get old too, if they're lucky...
It is true that through the years my heart has ached for the loss of a loved one, for the pain of a child, or for seeing a pet die. But it is suffering that gives us strength and makes us grow. An unbroken heart is sterile and will never know the happiness of being imperfect.
I am proud to have lived long enough for my hair to turn gray and to retain the smile of my youth, before the deep furrows appeared on my face.
Now, to answer the question honestly, I can say: -I like being old, because old age makes me wiser, freer!-.
I know I'm not going to live forever, but while I'm here, I'm going to live by my own laws, those of my heart.
I'm not going to regret what wasn't, nor worry about what will be.
The time that remains, I will simply love life as I did until today, the rest I leave to God.
Lunyta — in Oldsmar, Florida.

 

[cherrynberry]

Just seen on the news that there has been 18 river drownings in California since April because of all the mountain snow melting. They said it's also dangerous to swim because of the hypothermia factor. Never swim alone.

There have been two cases near where I live…both also recent. Probably best to just stick to swimming in swimming pools, especially for amateurs

 

[Granny Hatchet]

What does it feel like to be old?
The other day, a young person asked me: - What did it feel like to be old?
I was very surprised by the question, since I did not consider myself old. When he saw my reaction, he was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question. And after reflection, I concluded that getting old is a gift.
Sometimes I am surprised at the person who lives in my mirror. But I don't worry about those things for long. I wouldn't trade everything I have for a few less gray hairs and a flat stomach. I don't scold myself for not making the bed, or for eating a few extra "little things." I am within my rights to be a little messy, to be extravagant, and to spend hours staring at my flowers.
I have seen some dear friends leave this world, before they had enjoyed the freedom that comes with growing old.
-Who cares if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 in the morning and then sleep until who knows what time?
I will dance with me to the rhythm of the 50's and 60's. And if later I want to cry for some lost love...I will!
I'll walk down the beach in a swimsuit that stretches over my plump body and dive into the waves letting myself go, despite the pitying looks of the bikini-wearers. They'll get old too, if they're lucky...
It is true that through the years my heart has ached for the loss of a loved one, for the pain of a child, or for seeing a pet die. But it is suffering that gives us strength and makes us grow. An unbroken heart is sterile and will never know the happiness of being imperfect.
I am proud to have lived long enough for my hair to turn gray and to retain the smile of my youth, before the deep furrows appeared on my face.
Now, to answer the question honestly, I can say: -I like being old, because old age makes me wiser, freer!-.
I know I'm not going to live forever, but while I'm here, I'm going to live by my own laws, those of my heart.
I'm not going to regret what wasn't, nor worry about what will be.
The time that remains, I will simply love life as I did until today, the rest I leave to God.
Lunyta — in Oldsmar, Florida.

thats nice

 

[CapricornFarm]

I feel the same some days. Was so busted from the SF trip I slept for a good two days before doing anything productive. Really should fix my sleep schedule

Me too.

 

[h2oratt]

This is not funny but very touching story. This had me bawling my eyes out.
Todays Kleenex Moment
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you today?" "H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good." "They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?" "Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?""No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas." "Would you like take some home?" asked Mr. Miller. "No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?" "All I got's my prize marble here." "Is that right? Let me see it" said Miller. "Here 'tis. She's a dandy." "I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue, and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" the store owner asked. "Not zackley but almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble," Mr. Miller told the boy. "Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in town, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store."
I left the store, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and, while I was there, learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and, knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary, we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two had nice haircuts, wore dark suits and white shirts... all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.
Her misty light-blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
"Those three young men who just left were those boys. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size... they came to pay their debt."
"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."
With loving gentleness, she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles. A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself. An unexpected phone call from an old friend. Green stoplights on your way to work. The fastest line at the grocery store. A good sing-along song on the radio. Your keys found right where you left them.
Never be in way too much of a hurry to even notice the ordinary miracles when they occur.

 

[Granny Hatchet]

This is not funny but very touching story. This had me bawling my eyes out.
Todays Kleenex Moment
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you today?" "H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good." "They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?" "Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?""No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas." "Would you like take some home?" asked Mr. Miller. "No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?" "All I got's my prize marble here." "Is that right? Let me see it" said Miller. "Here 'tis. She's a dandy." "I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue, and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" the store owner asked. "Not zackley but almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble," Mr. Miller told the boy. "Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in town, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store."
I left the store, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and, while I was there, learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and, knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary, we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two had nice haircuts, wore dark suits and white shirts... all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.
Her misty light-blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
"Those three young men who just left were those boys. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size... they came to pay their debt."
"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."
With loving gentleness, she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles. A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself. An unexpected phone call from an old friend. Green stoplights on your way to work. The fastest line at the grocery store. A good sing-along song on the radio. Your keys found right where you left them.
Never be in way too much of a hurry to even notice the ordinary miracles when they occur.

I have read this before.Its a beautiful story.

 

[Granny Hatchet]

Naked people didnt fail to amuse me tonight. Down to 6 people already.