Several clichés might describe me to some extent:
"Don't fence me in."
"Variety is the spice of life."
I
try not to worry about my physical appearance, I am what I am: short 5'2",
and a bit plump with fine, flyaway hair that has to be constantly curled.
However, the important thing about me is the way I feel inside. This little
incident says it all:
A few years ago, I was a witness in a theft case that was being heard
by a jury. The prosecuting attorney asked me the usual questions: name,
address, and my age.
I replied, "Which age? - my outside or inside age?"
That stumped him and he said, "Both."
"Outside, I'm 76, inside I'm 46."
And
that is true even now that I am almost 81. I still walk as fast as I used
to, go as many places as I ever have, actually more since I have been
living alone. The house is always clean but not always tidy. I still try
to do too many things in a day or week or month. I usually have at least
three projects going.
Right now, I have a collection of ugly dolls on shelves, which I add to
occasionally. I am in the process of making thirty-five albums for all
nieces and nephews, grandchildren and daughters. So, of course, I have
shoeboxes full of pictures always on the dining room table. In the living
room, balls of yarn: I am in the process of making one thousand (yes,
literally 1,000, no two alike) pansies to make a king-size afghan. Also,
I love to drive. The freeways have no terrors for me and the back-roads
I love. I also enjoy my writing class, which has brought out a side of
me that amazes and delights me.
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