I bought mom a digital picture frame for Christmas. I've asked family to send me pictures of themselves (yeah, only one has responded – shocking). This morning, while mom was at work, I went over and took all our photo albums (she won't notice, trust me).
I've been pulling old pictures and scanning them. Some are really terrific. Some I don't ever want to see again! Here are a couple of my favorites. I'm sure there will be more.
That's when my mom calls me each year to tell me I am "officially" a certain age. Today it is 43.
43. How the hell did that happen? Don't get me wrong, I feel every year is a gift that I intend to celebrate.
I wonder, at what age does our brain stop processing age? I don't know exactly how old I think I am, but it's certainly not 43.
I don't think I look 43. I had young man guess 37 yesterday. Six years younger. I can live with that.
And not the kind I have when I see a cute guy.
My heart has been beating a little funny for a few days now.
It bugged me enough that I went to see my doctor. Mainly I wanted to know if they could feel what I feel. They could. I really don't want to be a hypochondriac, you know?
My EKG was normal, as is my blood pressure.
My doctor thinks it is stress. I hope so, but I'll feel pretty stupid if it is. I just want to be one of those people who can get through things without falling apart.