Crap.
That's what I feel like, crap. Gradually, insidiously, I have been feeling more craptastic every day, a direct result of the length of my days on this earth. My mortal coil is unwinding like an over-wound clock. I have not bounced back from my adventure in the emergency room over Labor Day weekend, despite being pretty diligent about taking iron, calcium, and B12 supplements. Every time I swallow an iron tablet, I experience an immediate assault on my tender digestive system. But swallow them I do, and I haven't passed out again, although I have had a few passing moments of lightheadedness and a very brief weakness in my left leg. Crap and crap again. As Mick Jagger sang, what a drag it is getting old ...
In my pre-2003 days, when I looked in the mirror I only saw myself from the chin up, because to look anywhere else would have been too difficult. I was a Very Big Girl in those days, and not happy about it. Fast forward nine years, and I have simply stopped looking in the mirror. Encroaching old age just ain't pretty, at least in my case. I love road maps, but not all over my face, if you get my drift.
The worst part is not cosmetic, but it is physical. I am almost always tired; sometimes I feel positively frail. I have always kept my distance from anything geriatric and now I know why.
I am still cooking, kids, and I will be posting the recipe for my Chicken with Artichokes later today. I may not be able to turn out a buffet for 40 hungry friends and relatives, but I can still feed my family, and I'm a whiz at potluck lunches. Which reminds me, I brought in a Better than Sex cake to the office last week (by special request of mi amiga Cristina) and a good time was had by all. I will post the link, along with the chicken recipe, over on the recipe blog. Make these two dishes for the same meal, and your family will nominate you for sainthood. Really.
Guess who is not heading into the office today? Absolutely correct, the same little old lady who is going on a cruise over Thanksgiving and another cruise in December. Being able to drive to Port Canaveral in just an hour is proving to be one of the best things about living in Florida.
I haven't changed my mind about tattoos (I may eat pork, but I would never let someone put a needle and ink to my skin), but if I ever did catch the bug, this is one I might consider. Saw it on the Yarn Harlot's blog. No, the Harlot hasn't been getting tattoos, but some of her fans have.
We are heading to Rainforest Cafe this evening to meet up with our friends and their family, including grandkids who I have only been able to admire from photos. We are very much looking forward to this and have been for over a year, which is when Kathy and Al started to plan it. Kathy was my freshman college roommate and a darn terrific cook in her own right. Pictures to follow.
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