I am not ruled by the European Union.

I came back to this blog after years of hiatus to begin new postings, only to find the following message on my account.


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Well, thanks a whole frickin' lot, Google.    I could care less about the European Union...it is falling into a black hole because of political correctness and restrictive and coercive laws regarding free speech.  So if Google wants to kowtow to the freaks in the EU, YOU bow down and kiss their collective asses.  Leave me out of it.

You're a Fart Blossom.

Intro

This blog isn't about my kids and what they are doing at the moment, or pics of them as they play and discover. I know I could talk endlessly about those two sweethearts and never get tired of that... but that's for the other blog to handle. This will be about reflections on my life, my perceptions, my rants, my beliefs, and an outlook that is realistic, not based in Pollyannic optimism but in a stubborn pragmatism that is also hopeful... perhaps these thoughts will mirror yours.

1956 - my mother and me

I think about how we are born to change and that nothing stops that. Even in death, the body changes, even though our souls move on. It has really been brought home to me how sweet life is, especially from the perspective as an older adult looking at her children and knowing that life will hold all kinds of challenges and surprises, heartaches and sorrow, for them as they grow. And when I look at a baby picture of me, and how much I have experienced in life, I focus on the sweet moments of growing up, and try not to dwell on the not so pleasant times... and there were plenty - I wasn't the devil's spawn, but I wasn't exactly an angel, either.

1961 - my father and me

I look at myself in the mirror and there are days I hardly recognize who I am... what I have become. My face only holds a fraction of familiarity, very little of the young woman I used to be can be found in my current features. I can say that in some ways, I wish I was younger looking, for my kids' sakes. As I age, people will be asking them if I am their grandmother, and I'm sure they will be slightly embarrassed by it. It has already happened a couple of times since they've been old enough to understand it, and I think it was awkward for them. But I don't show how I feel about it... I simply tell people I am their mother, and I let it go at that.

1976 - me at 20 years old

I would love to look more like this now... but time has to have its way. And much has happened to me to change me - both intellectually and physically. I need to share what I've learned - and if no one wants to read this, that's okay with me. It's like a diary that I can pass on to my daughters and they can discover why I'm such a cranky old thing.