Moving along. I ordered a meal off the senior citizen breakfast at Ihop the other day. I am not even 55 yet, only 54 (I will be 55 in exactly one month). How come they didn't ask me for proof of 55, is it all the stress that makes me look one month older than I am? It must be.
I really am ok, it is just my husband's take on the whole thing. He is not a comforter-never has been, never will be. He likes to be comforted, just can't comfort. So I get comfort from my dog and cat. I love Obama.
Disjointed thoughts, sign of high intelligence. I am here.
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2 comments:
Hello my "Russian princess".
I love the story about your dad. ha---I remember coming home with you from college, and your dad with his cigar, gold jewelry, a backgammon game----(an on- going game- - - - -ha), and he was sooooooo happy to see us.
I wish I had a picture of you and me, your dad, Chris and Michael in the carpet store.
Four beautiful dark and exotic souls, and one blonde Norwegian.!!!!!!!! Now that's what I call entertainment!.
Your father would always give us money**** "money to eat on, money to buy clothes, money to go out for drinks, money for gas". He made it feel like we where in
"never, never, land" and would hug and kiss us, telling us what beautiful kids we were.
I miss my dad, although he was not as colorful as yours, he did have his moments.
How fortunate you are to still have him around. My dad died at only 64 from smoking.
Anyway, not to be down. ......
I miss you, we should write a book together.......but of course we would have to use different names........no one would believe our lives!!!!!!
...your favorite blonde.....
Men aren't supposed to be comforters. They are wired to do other things. Women comfort. It's only recently that men are expected to provide comfort (the fault of feminists who refuse to acknowledge basic obvious structural differences between men and women). So it's not dad's fault. It's in the male wiring.
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