Confessions. Of a sort.

It took until the age of 52 and, *counts months/days from 52nd birthday to five days ago* six months to faithfully wash my face at night before bed. Yucky, but true. Just never concerned me. Not sure why it concerns me now, but apparently it does, as I have washed my face religiously before bed each night for the past five days.

I am a hippie wannabe. It’s true. I love loose, flowy clothes with beads and fringe and boots, if I had the hard cold cash available, would be my usual uniform. Every day is a battle for me to not let my hair grow out long and curly and go back to my au natural color which, at this point, is predominately of a whitish hue. The only thing stopping me at this point is that I think my mother would have a stroke if I did.

The more I write…the more I write. I know, right? I whipped out yesterday’s blog post in about 15 minutes (yes, it shows) and I haven’t stopped writing in my head since. Thank you for the encouragement, by the way.

Another daily (sometimes hourly) discussion I have with myself (and my Creator) is, Who am I? What is my Voice? I want to be a serious, pulls-you-in-and-you-can’t-stop-reading-it-author. So far, God has allowed me to not be that writer. It’s true that I am more inclined to be flippant and sarcastic and to write about the more humorous side of my life (and, unfortunately for some of you in my family) the lives of those I love. Trust me when I tell you that I hold a lot back. There are a few of you out there who have known me for years (and thankfully still love me) who are nodding your heads vigorously at that statement.

I don’t sleep well. Haven’t for years. My current doc doesn’t want to give me anything to help me sleep. Notice I said “current?” She’s on her way out. She just doesn’t know that yet. She seems to think that if I would just do what she tells me to do…eat healthy, exercise daily, reduce stress, blah blah blah, then I’ll be sleeping just fine. If she would just give me meds to help me sleep, then I would be awake and energized enough to do those things.

One good thing about not sleeping well is that I can fall asleep anywhere, at any time. I’m just not able to stay asleep. Which, if I am at, say…work, is a good thing. Also, driving. Always a good thing to not stay asleep for overlong whilst driving.

The chicken sandwich and fries are just a vehicle for the Chick-Fil-A sauce.

I’m currently obsessed with reading glasses, picking out paint colors for my home, Coconut Bliss, yard and garden design, and the Backstreet Boys. Not necessarily in that order.

Also, apparently, Chick-Fil-A sauce.

More thought provoking, serious writing to come in future days. Or not.

Love you guys. Have so missed you.

One thought on “Confessions. Of a sort.

  1. Sometimes it seems like you're writing about me! I also am a hippy wannabe, although my mother would call it the “bohemian” look. And yesterday I threatened to stop coloring my hair to see what the gray would look like on me!

    Ron says at least one a week that I need to be writing my novel. Don't know what to write about.

    OMGosh! Have you seen the cute fold-up reading glasses at CVS?? There's also a mirror on the case (which Ron found for me about 1 month after I had the glasses…sigh, so much for being observant.)

    Gotta go check out “Coconut Bliss”. Good blog!

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