Today I was on the bus on my way to a dental appointment.
I get a little anxious about dental appointments and as I was
trying to think of things to calm myself I started thinking about this
weeks prompt at In Other Words;
“Remember no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Eleanor Roosevelt
While I was thinking of Eleanor Roosevelt a man got on the bus.
He was very old, very little, very frail and very shy.
He did not speak or look at anyone. He just looked at the floor.
He had great difficulty getting on and off the bus.
He got off the bus going down the steps very slowly…and backwards.
Then while on the bus coming home a man came and sat with me.
He was kind of old, kind of big, kind of hearty and kind of outgoing.
As we rode along we talked and laughed.
I learned he likes liver and onions, prays every day, takes early morning walks,
is an amateur astronomer and is concerned about the hungry and homeless.
I wonder why one man on the bus seemed to be so frightened.
Does he feel inferior because of his physical condition?
And why is the other man so friendly?
Because he is strong and healthy?
I wanted to give both men a hug. For different reasons.
But I gave neither one a hug. For different reasons.
I am linking to In Other Words and Tuesday Chatter
I have been thinking about the changes in my life. I think many of us do this time this time of year. One of the things that changed in my life has been my body. Of course, everyone’s body changes over time but the last few days I have been pondering my changes.
When I was a baby and until I was about six I was fat. I little dumpling if you will. When I was a little girl I was pretty average. Not short or tall, chubby or thin just an average little girl. Then I got tall and skinny and awkward, all arms and legs.
From my mid-twenties to thirties, I was just right. I wasn’t tall or short, not chubby or skinny. My arms and legs were no longer gangly but just as they should be. I had curves where they are supposed to be all slender and perky…at attention if you know what I mean.
My forties and fifties brought some changes. Things got softer and rounder and I gained some weight. Then I was suddenly sixty! Things changed, a lot! I was not fat but a bit plump and things sorted started shifting south. My little pot belly morphed into a turkey roaster and my cute often complimented little butt…well let’s just say it wasn’t often complimented. But maybe it’s because folks don’t compliment older women’s butts. Probably because no one looks at them but that is another post.
Now on my way to seventy, though I don’t want to be a little birdy old lady I don’t want to be an ostrich either. So, in 2015, I was on and sometimes off, a diet. It took a year to lose twenty-five pounds! Dieting is hard work and I prefer naps. Anyway, I am happy to be if not svelte at least wearing a size ten.
But here is a question. If it took a year to lose twenty-five pounds why did it only take five days to gain five and a half pounds? So much of life is a puzzle.
Today I am taking part in a blog hop that
Brenda at BYG Adventures hosts.
In this hop she asks us to
This week we are to ponder the word watch.
So, here I go a pondering.
I have thought about this before so it isn’t a new pondering.
Why are watches called watches?
Shouldn’t they be called little clocks? Or portable clocks?
When I went to Wikipedia to find out about watches I learned they are “watches”:
1) from an Old English word “woecce” that means watchman.
2) sailors called them watches because they used them to
keep track of the time of their “watches”.
Okay, I guess those explanations make some sense.
But why are pocket watches called pocket watches?
Why aren’t they pocket clocks?
And why are wrist watches called wrist watches?
Seems to me they should be called wrist clocks.
Now that wrist watches can do everything imaginable I think they should be called