When pigs fly I will…
Get married again: I’ve tried this twice. Apparently I’m not very good at it. No more husbands.
Get a tattoo: Okay, I admit I’m fascinated by the notion. A small rose on my left boob. Up top. Oops. Where did the top go? Or maybe a flying pig on my shoulder. How about a tree of life on my back between my shoulders? See how fast I went from a small rose to an entire tree. I’ve heard tattooing can become an addiction. Now that’s all I need. Nope. No tattoos.
Vote republican: I tried that a couple of times in my youth under the influence of my first husband. It didn’t work out for me. Or for the country. You see, one of them was Nixon. I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that before. It fills me with angst just to type it here.
Buy eyeglasses from the doctor’s office optician: She’s a lovely woman and I like her a lot. But–I discovered I could buy them for much less at the big discount stores like Sam’s Club, BJ’s and Costco. So off I went to BJ’s with my prescription. I got Armani frames with all the bells and whistles for $247!!! I love them and they got the adjustments right the first time. And that’s about a third of what I paid for my last ones at the doctor’s office.
Take another teaching job: I have enjoyed my ESL students this year but I find that I really dislike being tied to a schedule. I will be seeking another way to assist in the local Latino community. I understand there are many ways to help. And I like spending time with them.
Cook three meals a day: This is a practical matter. I don’t need to cook that much for me. I can barely put a sandwich together these days. One does get out of practice, you know. I can see me now. The main course would be getting cold while I put the sides together. Too much concentration for me. Can’t believe how many years I did it. And I was quite efficient, thank you.
Worry about what others think of me: I remember being a youth and thinking I said the wrong thing, wore the wrong sweater, etc., etc. I no longer care what people think about me. There are probably several things that bring me to this point. One is that I’m older and much of what I worried about was “fluff.” As in don’t sweat the small stuff. Another is that I think I became embarrass-proof after teaching teenagers for a number of years. I got immune to the teenage “gotchas.” They are so good at it and I love their enthusiasm and youthful exuberance.
I try to keep my posts below 500 words so perhaps I will continue this rant another time. If you’ve read this far, thank you.