The kids who were born when we were graduating are still carrying around fake ID’s. They won’t even be able to rent a car for another half a decade. So let’s put away those walking canes and bask in the pinnacle of our youth, shall we? These are our glory days, people!
There now. Your fear of old age is dwindling faster than your social security.
A skunk christened the grounds to our addition. I tried an arsenal of scented candles, and our house now smells like skunk dipped in Lavender, Rose of Morocco and Willow Breeze. It has since permeated to our clothes, dogs, food, and babies’ hair. “Nature’s Miracle” skunk odor remover, as it turns out, isn’t so miraculous. I pulled a tissue out of the box, and it smelled like skunk. I wept. My tears tasted like skunk.
This morning I stepped out onto the deck, took a deep breath, and gazed in quiet wonderment as the sunlight kissed the dew-covered grass. Suddenly, a chainsaw sliced through the silence, a piece of the garage tumbled down, and an Albanian guy came bursting through like the Kool-Aid Man. “Good morning!” he greeted me, then casually carried on with his demolition.
How many of you had a similar start to your day?
As chasing after three kids somehow didn’t keep me in shape, I decided to take up swimming. Hair slicked beneath swim cap, I stopped mid-lap, gasping and clutching my sides, strained my eyes through my goggles and found the entire Simsbury High School swim team. Suddenly I was seventeen and back in the THS parking lot, learning to drive as the football team rolled in.
Two decades later, it doesn’t get any easier.