It would really be easy for me to take the easy way out and take the holiday week off but I just can't do that. My blog has become part of me. Sadly, on days when I have not endured enough to the house something creative pop out of my brain adjusts the blog becomes more of a log. I don't mind logs per say however I do maintain a journal in another area of my computer universe which would be and is a day-to-day accounting. These things come in handy, I have found, from everything from doing mileage at work to assist Dianne when she is having to do some historical documentation for some insurance things are legal things one sort or another and surprisingly when I allowed her to check my journals she was able to fill in a lot of holes that she had forgotten.
I don't know how important it is to blog if you're a writer. A new historical readers know that the main reason I write my blog is so I can write something every day. Even if I'm not working on the Great American novel, poetry, lyrics or whatever I do believe if you're going to write you have to write and I'm kind of hoping that like the hundred monkeys or 1000 monkeys or 1 million monkeys if they write enough the Great American novel will emerge and the key is to keep writing and that's what I'm doing. So, like everything there are good posts, boring posts, not so good posts that everyone some while a fantastic post as you can already tell this is not going to be one of them.
As this month comes to an end, much more quickly that I would like, I realized with the start that not counting New Year's Eve and frolics that I will not have, the next major holiday of my life is February 2, Groundhog Day and probably more important marks birthday. My birthday! I will as far as we understand and know be 70 years old (there is an outside chance that somewhere along the line at my birth year could've been dropped and maybe I'm just going to be 69 again that would be so cool but in reality I guess I better except the notion that more likely than not entering 70 and two months. 70 is a new number in the area of years lived. I don't know any other way to look at 70 but as geriatric that's where I'm going. I think I've danced around the idea of being elderly or geriatric but I didn't really pay attention to it because I didn't really see myself that way because I sort of like the numbers, but the number I don't like is 70. There's really no way to address that up as a good age to be. I love living I don't like dying but I think little bit by little bit of being worn down. Knock on wood I continue to enjoy getting up and love getting up by myself as many days as I can. I can still dress myself, feed myself and amuse myself in all manner of the word. I need assistance in toileting pretty much that's it except for I really do enjoy a housekeeper. I suppose I should be able to keep my apartment clean on my own but there's just things I don't see, reach or care about which needs to be done in the apartment in order to be presentable and for me to be creative and proud of myself and my own space. I guess I will have to get used to living in the seventh decade of life. I have to tell you that it freaks me out but I'm lucky enough to feel like I'm healthy and semi-wise is forget anything about wealth…
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