In the image, the print appears so tiny because I had to expand to include all. Click the image and you can read the messages. My words appear in green (because that’s the way Ancestry lists…) and the green leaves are links to a vast amount of information in my tree. A sixteen-word reply. I’m so mad (hurt), I think I’ll IGNORE ALL FUTURE REQUESTS FOR ASSISTANCE. I wanted to send a one-word reply: “Ingrate” —but I didn’t. ~~ See my previous message regarding her request.
Lorraine won’t buy $8.00 Blue Bell ice cream BUT, yesterday, she bought very expensive “Regenerist” because it says (on the box) “skin surface renewal starts day one.” My face has so many wrinkles, I hate to see my ugly face in the mirror!! **If** there are more social events—and an occasional shopping trip—I want to look less like a witch. (Yes, that’s Lorraine in October 2015.)
The self-imposed hermit joined a group of our RV Park residents for “Big Breakfast” in the clubhouse. I counted thirty-four people and everyone was so glad to socialize with folks they have not seen for months (or two-and-one-half years). This was one of the few times I didn’t have my camera with me—or nearby. This message is for the benefit of Jan, Jimmie, Deb, Janet—and Mr. Red—for repeatedly urging me to “get out.” ~~ Imagine this: I may get in my KIA and drive to the market. Truthfully, I have anxiety thinking about a trip to the market but (to paraphrase) “the journey of four miles starts with a single step.” This morning, one-hundred-eighty-seven (187) steps from my front door to the Clubhouse.
Gospel truth: The last time I did grocery shopping was May 27th. I drove the KIA to the doctor’s office on June 6th and June 10th. No driving in July. To doctor appointments on August 4th, 23rd, and 30th. No driving in September. With today’s trip, I’ve driven eighty-six miles since 1:30 PM, May 27th. ~~ Four hundred miles total since a trip to H.E.B. on January 20th, 2020. Yes, January 20th, 2020.
Year after year, I have written a blog message about “New tune in June.” Some are worth revisiting because of a touch of humor. This year, everything seemed to “get worse” in June, July, August, and September. I hope, and pray, turning the calendar page (and turning on the heater) will genuinely have me singing praises in October. (No rhyming words for October.)