|6/12/2018 1:21:00 PM|
Bull by Bull
By Judy Bull At age 75 I feel like I've finally come into my own: My go-to place is wherever I'm at. My kitchen window perfectly frames my lawn ... just enough lawn for me and my 32-year-old mower. I am one of the laziest people I know. Luckily I have enough OCD in me to get everything done that needs doing, including trying to be better about letting my old Bronco warm up. I know I, myself, need more of said warming up.
Travel guru Rick Steves came to Bend the summer of 2014 to support legalizing recreational marijuana in Oregon. I got a front-row seat because I love all things Rick Steves, and I was not disappointed. I was taken with seeing him in person. His voice sounded much like it does on TV, though his baggy black pants were wrinkled and his old loafers needed polishing. I was not at all surprised that I didn't recognize anyone in attendance. I did notice that most everyone looked about my age, though.
Now that marijuana is legal, I have blabbed to a few of my favorite people that I've smoked MJ for over 50 years ... most Saturday nights. After the initial shock, some wanted to know how it makes me feel: easily distracted, easily entertained, and eager for the inevitable laughter. Truthfully, my life would be better if I didn't feel a bit of guilt - even yet.
My neighbor Kiki and I were trading frog stories last week. Who has the most and who has the loudest?
She does. On both accounts. I cannot begin to image the cacophony coming off an irrigation pond this time of year.
Just as there are as many ways to hardboil an egg as there are people, there are as many ways to age as there are people. Somehow it feels good to be content with playing solitaire on a Saturday night. A while back when the power went out, I played said solitaire by candlelight. I mostly lost, but the wine and leftover Valentine's Day candy made for a peaceful evening of reminiscing - whilst winning.
During hard times, the only problem with trying to get perspective is it's imperative that I first know where I am, which I most likely don't know and that's why I'm looking. Recently when I was feeling especially blue, help came in the form of homemade mac & cheese and cookies hot out of Mary Ann's oven. Just like that, my blues were gone.
When my 10-year-old MacBook started getting more confused (sic) than ever, I treated myself to a MacBook Air. Very scary. Very silver. Very nice. While I was on the telephone with AppleCare that first night, my phone began dialing and redialing over our conversation. Almost too late, I realized I'd unknowingly pushed my "Help I've Fallen" button ... just before they sent out the troops.
Article Comment Submission Form