Everyone has their version of luxury, whether it takes the form of travel, expensive dinners or nights at the theater. Mine? Being able to stay home.

My little piece of terra firma binds me to it, probably a throw back from growing up on a farm in the country. There was never anywhere better than the farm. Not for me, anyway. Life was hard but I gloried in the land and everything contained upon it; the animals, plants and my dad’s shop. If you couldn’t find me, odds were pretty good I was on the land, either on horseback or afoot.

So, now that old age has its steely grip upon me.(!) I don’t leave the place often. Most of our groceries are delivered and I usually only go to the doctor once a year. Until this week.

A different doctor was called for so I went, of course. Can’t really put these things off, unfortunately. Whereas my once a year doc has a massive waiting room, this new doc’s place looked woefully small. Long, thin room and there were over 20 people mashed in there with me. I almost left… many times.

The next day I told my husband about my nightmare: I’d had to shoot my way out of that room with a *Glock 9mm. It was like the last chopper out of Saigon.

He told me that I am sheltered. He’s absolutely right. Though my youth was spent in honky-tonks and gyms, my life is winding down how it began; on my own property, minding my own business. Wishing the world well, but watching it burn from afar. Selfish? Yes, but my sanity depends upon it… all I need now is a horse. 😉

*I don’t own a Glock.

I NEED ONE!

Being 66 now… I feel it’s a tad unseemly to have hair this long. Almost 4 years ago, my hair was an inch long. Now? Goodness knows. The only thing stopping me.. is…I don’t know how I want it cut.

Joanie? What say you?

Though incapable of remembering anyone else’s death date, I do my father’s. He’s been gone a year today.

There’s not been one day since that my thoughts haven’t turned to him. In pain, fear, joy… just wanting to share or get his opinion. This is remarkable since we only had three years together and only met once in person. And I didn’t even take his picture! (which still surprises and amuses)

But he’s my Dad and I love him dearly.

I miss you very much, Dad.

I’m one of the hapless who have manged to reach the age of 65 without a smidgen of wisdom.

Oh, I know stuff. Mostly useless. I know that if you have an infection, soak the offending digit/limb in salt water. Well, it has worked for me.

I still remember how to do things from long ago, like tack a horse up. Conversely, I took three years of German in high school yet can’t recall how to count to 10 in the language. Use it or lose it!

Here’s a bit of knowledge learned in the past year for those turning 64:

Move. Change your phone number. Get a guard dog. Perhaps some razor wire.

Little did I know that upon reaching 64 things would become so bizarre. I’m a hermit by nature so when people started knocking on my front door all my feral instincts had me hiding behind the blinds. Of course, that does little to deter salesmen, so my jaunts out to the mailbox became littered with landmines. It comes as a jolt when someone springs from a nearby car and yells “Pam! Can I talk to you about Medicare Part B?”

My phone rang almost every day of the year with sales calls and the mail was full of color flyers. Each salesperson had the best plan and I just had to hear it right then!!

Oh, I told each one that I didn’t need them, that I had everything was in order. Didn’t deter them a bit!

Happy Birthday to me!! Thank goodness I’m finally 65. And I never thought I’d say that…