Embracing My Age

I've been enjoying my reading glasses around my house until my mom commented I looked liked Aunt Myrtle. Aunt Myrtle was my very eccentric childless great aunt on my mom's side. My mother was the only child among her mother and her three sibs, so she was kinda special. It's hard to describe Aunt Myrtle but maybe this vignette will help: whenever we visited her farm in Minnesota or later the house in town, she sat down at the piano, lifted up her reading glasses from her ample bosom where they rested and launched into a mediocre but enthusiastic rendition of "How Much Is That Doggie In The Window" and insisted we sing. Once while taking the required photographs at the end of our visit, she approached with a large powder puff of make-up which she slatered all over my sister and me, like a 1920's Hollywood director. I'm not sure this is the image I want to evoke with my reading glasses.

I've been kicking around the last two days, organizing the house between ball games. I'm easily distracted so it takes a long to get a task done. For example, while working on the living room I had to go to the dry cleaners, eat pumpkin pie, look through photo albums, re-arrange my scrapbooking supplies, send several emails, print off my annual holiday memories. I also found it's been so long since I vacuumed, I forgot how to turn the sweeper on.