WTF happened? A blog for well-seasoned women

Featured Post

Cool, I retired, or am I sleep walking?

Dateline: Oct. 26, 2020; Lady Proverbs, somewhere on the Oregon Coast

Yeah, 2020 sucks, blah, blah. My summary: Dad cancer, Dad died, COVID birthed, lived with 90 year-old Mom 4 months (sorry long-suffering husband-o-mine), retired at 61 ’cause I was simply done with it all, moved to coast, planned new pre-fab house, dementia grabbed Mom in a tsunami and Mom Jeckle and Mom Hyde roared in, worked with sibs on her memory care, everyone hurts from it, us and Mom. Third fucking strike for 2020.

So, yeah, being in Oregon and all, self-medication is legal, low cost and boy do edibles come in handy when Mom-stress, politics-stress, and retirement bullshit stress reaches the brain, the heart and the bowels. Don’t those clouds look pretty?

Not sure if this blog will amount to much, but I do think women of my era can get lost in the shuffle of the more “interesting” age categories. I was fucking exciting too, you know, when I was young and living in Africa and doing shit that was so dangerous it scares me now almost 40 years later. And I was cute too, that was kinda fun, although I didn’t appreciate it until I look at the old photos and wonder, what the fuck happened? Guess it’s just the march of time, right.

But then I don’t really care that much. No face lifts for this Oregon gal. Like it or lump it, this is my visage, people.

This should be fun. Hope I keep up with my blog and I’m not a scattered and inattentive Gemini running along the beach and combing for pretty shells instead of working on my novel or writing this blog. Yeah, I do that living at the beach shit too. That’s cool.


WTF Happened?

What if you could just drive away?

It was 1940 and the devastation of Dust Bowl had also ravaged Humphrey, Nebraska. One horribly quiet morning, my grandparents and the remaining young children got in their old car and simply drove away. I can imagine my mother, age ten, turning around in the back seat and watching their farm house get smaller and […]

Paint Box and Panties: Nebraska Girl Memories

She recalled the first birthday gifts she received, or at least that she could remember. Five or six she was, it was a paint box, full of beautiful colors, blue, red, green, yellow. And a brush, with soft brown strands waiting to be dipped into water and then the pats of color in the wooden […]

Boxes of life after death

Yeah, I’ve been AWOL for at least a month. No writing. Only boxes. And boxes. And boxes. After fifteen months our forever house is finally done and we’re in. But the stuff of our life, the years of memories and sorrows and good times, was wrapped in paper and bubble wrap, hiding in well taped […]

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