Dear God,
Hi it's me; CT. Hey listen, I was wondering-cleanliness being next to, you know...You - if I'm a reallyreally good girl, can my Heaven house not have dimply lino or sixty year old ceramic tile and grout on the floors? No complaints, just askin :-) And thanks for the great day with my Grandbaby over the weekend. Please bring peace to Dave's friend in the hospital.

Forever yours,
CT

Aaah... Peace and quiet on the homefront tonight - if you don't count Facebook anyway. I know, i know, everybody has been doing this new social networking thing for quite some time now, but we've already established how internet challenged I am. It is so fucking surreal to see and talk to these kids again. And I say kids intentionally even though we are all at least fifty, or within months of it, but I at least, have been away from our hometown for almost thiry years. Everyone seems to have become blownup lifesize fifty year old charicatures of what they (we?) were in 1974. It's a time machine.

We have even been granted a chapter in the annals of fashion that have allowed us to indulge ourselves in new gear reminiscent of our teenage glory days. Low waist jeans with a flare at the bottom, layered t-shirts, peasant blouses, EARTH SHOES!!! I love it.

Reminded in a post to my Fb wall by Steve that he remembered my Mom's sunglasses, (after I reminded him that he thought she was hot) I realize that they too have come back; those silly oversized white framed things that were popular then. Everywhere I look I see my Mother, and she's been gone twenty nine years. Not good when the hormone fairy is shaking her crazy wand around here half the time anyway.

Anyway.. Facebook is fun, if way too time consuming, and I know the good jeans can't last, and many of you ladies think you don't like them anyway; you say we're too old, or they're not flattering, but I'm here to tell you girls - high waisted, loose, tapered leg pants make most women look like giant empty parentheses with a toppled over 8 plopped on top. Draw it. It ain't pretty. I will wear my last boot cuts til the fashion police peel the shreds off me forcefully, like I did in 1981, only this time I'll be old enough to do something really creative with my fashion statement; match my grandaughter's make believe/dress-up ensembles sequin for feather and we'll dance in the yard and mortify my adult children. Especially when I post photos to my Facebook page.

Life is good...

CT

Huh?

Okay... So people have been telling me for years that I should blog - or start a blog?
Hmmm, noun or verb?
I wonder sometimes though, if that's just a way for them to politely tell me I should channel some of the energy I put into verbiage into another medium; especially as they are a mostly captive audience - I'm a hairdresser - or if they found something in my ramblings that might benefit from being written down somewhere.
Journaling never worked for me as I seem to need some kind of reward system, and something big enough to write on that I can't lose it. However, early experience with online chatroooms and "communities" made me fear that being a blogger might just be, as I once read in an old blog trying to define what a blog is exactly, "an exercise in verbal masturbation." And I have to say, there was more than one time that I tried to get in the groove and hang out in those things, and I just wasn't worthy. All I could think was, GET A LIFE! You people aren't even real! You are in a box on my desk whining incessantly about other people in boxes that you haven't met!
It's great to be thirty and know everything isn't it? But now I am considerably older, some mellower, and realize that cyber life is all some people have, and hopefully I can make up a litttle bit by being here.
Blog
n. A weblog.
intr.v. blogged, blog·ging, blogs
To write entries in, add material to, or maintain a weblog.
[(we)blog.]
blog·ger n.
Now, I know most of you had this whole blog thing figured out fifteen years ago if you're of my generation, and were born knowing it if from my kids', but hey... I've been busy. So here I sit at 5:00 a.m. blogging. What a silly sounding word. Who knew?

CT