Here is another recent picture of my oldest son's (yes, the Beetle wanna be) backyard berm. It is a nice place to look while having a glass of tea.

Well, Girl’s Day never happened. I could hardly make it out of bed because my left groin was in a knot. I tried to do the courageous thing and ignore it but I finally had to call the girls and cancel out.

It seems as though we all hit a snag. One friend was having pain issues all over her body which sound like the Fibromyalgia I’ve been living with for a long time. However, she’s been to different doctors and no one can find anything wrong. How does that happen in this day of modern technology? I hit a deep hole in my 50’s because my thyroid was terribly low and I was dragging around, trying to manufacture my usual energetic self.

I’m not one to run to the doctor but eventually I had to go and thankfully one little pill a day gave me renewed vigor and outlook. Thyroid can really screw one up….too high OR too low. I’m concerned for my friend and I can empathize. It took a long time to diagnose me on several occasions.

My other friend had been trying to hang a curtain rod and it wore her out just getting the old one down. It is amazing how stubborn nails and screws can be. How can they just fall off the wall in some cases and then refuse to come out when they have to? Poltergeist !! It has to be. Anyway, she went for a lab workup early yesterday and then back to putting the new drapery rod up. Some things are just not meant to be.

Next week we will rise from the ashes like the Phoenix and try again. Life is funny. When I was a little girl I wanted to grow up to be a princess……one that lived in a castle and a handsome prince would come and marry me. After all, it happened that way in all the books I read and I was a believer.

Next, in the teen years it was all about boys and gossip. Then comes your children. Women would get together and share horror stories with each other about their troublesome kids. Thank God mine were not old enough to hitch-hike to Woodstock. The worst thing was my oldest son getting off the bus and walking in the door with his hair combed like the Beetles. My jaw hit the floor and he was ordered to get his comb out and get it back where it belonged. I even threatened to tell his father. Something I never did. I always took care of things myself. (Remember the Rosy paddle?)

Once you live through the teen years it’s time for women to start talking about menopause. I don’t know where the “pause” comes from. It was irritatingly constant and a mean adversary. I won’t go into the Golden Years where many of us become widowed and the conversations are all about health issues.

Now that I’ve cheered you up, I’m going to hobble around and get my work done.
TGIF !!

Essentially Esther