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Anna Quindlen

“We waste our lives apologizing for our maturity instead of celebrating the power that comes with age.” by Lynne Spreen, blogger and agless guru for women over forty.

Reblogging: From Lynne Spreen’s ‘Any Shiny Thing: Getting Old Is Fantastic!

“Anna Quindlen is 59 years old, and she thinks the same way I do, so today, I’m going to borrow from her new book to make my own points about age: It’s odd when I think of the arc of my life, from child to young woman to aging adult. First I was who I […]”

Anna Quindlen
Author of: Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake

at this age)…we’re unlearning so many lessons, about how we should live, be, work, feel. We hold our fingers up to the prevailing winds of custom and behavior and think, nope, that’s an ill wind. It’s not that we question authority, it’s that we question who gets to be an authority in the first place….For me, one of the greatest glories of growing older is the willingness to ask why and, getting no good answer, deciding to follow my own inclinations and desires. Asking why is the way to wisdom. Why are we supposed to want possessions we don’t need and work that seems besides the point and tight shoes and a fake tan? Why are we supposed to think new is better than old, youth and vigor better than long life and experience? Why are we supposed to turn our backs on those who have preceded us and to snipe at those who come after?”

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James Baldwin

Unless a writer is extremely old when he dies, in which case he has probably become a neglected institution, his death must always be seen as untimely. This is because a real writer is always shifting and changing and searching. The world has many labels for him, of which the most treacherous is the label of Success.- James Baldwin

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ON SOME LEVEL

On some level Hershel knew that what he was about to do was wrong.

For more times than he cared to remember, Rhonda had grilled him on the rules of the neighborhood; no sniffing Mr. Crenshaw’s butt        (the cat had two and half inch claws and was not afraid to use them), no eating out of Mrs. Clubiskys trash cans (her spaghetti and meatballs were known to produce uncontrollable flatulence),  no lifting or squatting of legs on or around Mrs. Bolton’s flower gardens; particularly her prize roses (canine urine has been linked to several forms of rose bush fungus) and definitely, absolutely  no chasing Big Billy Bilabob, the neighborhood paper boy.

Unless of course it can be proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the he did with malicious intent, aim for and did hit your head when throwing the newspaper.

Being the obedient and copasetic dog that he was, Hershel did his best to abide by these rules whenever and wherever possible. And to the best of his knowledge (except for that time when he was having a very realistic dream in which he, not Milou’ the fox terrier, was Tin Tin’s true companion Snowy, and Big Billy Bilabob intentionally hit him on the head with the newspaper, and he’d woken up thinking he and Tintin were under attack and it was Hershel’s job to defend them against Nazi invaders), he had.

Yet today,  in the course of his afternoon stroll through the neighborhood, he found himself faced with the agonizing responsibility of whether or not he could, or even should,  break the greatest rule of them all; never, never, ever go into another dogs yard and …… you know…… evacuate your….., even the word made Hershel shake in his boots (if he’d had any, which, if little Melissa Pettigrew had her way, he’d be wearing by the end of the week).

You see Hershel’s human grandparents had come to stay for awhile and in the course of doing his best to make Mr. and Mrs. Lubosky feel right at home, he’d made an exception to his personal rule to never accept food scrapes from strangers.  But you know how it is; a dog is doing their best to look stoic, even regal, and along comes a person of distinction – and bam! You’ve got fresh made lasagna with real mozzarella cheese (not that artificial stuff Connie’s humans use on their big box store, fake style pasta) and fresh grated  Parmigiano-Reggiano (the one that Rachael Ray always talks about), with little bits of black olive peaking out and…….what’s a dog to do?

So this is Hershel’s dilemma; all that Italiano food had to go somewhere and according to Hershel’s digestive signal’s, it needed to go somewhere now, and Hershel was four blocks away from his own yard. And it wouldn’t matter if he flew as straight as an arrow towards his home because there were at least three; no make it four fences that were too darn tall for an English bulldog such as himself to make it over.

No, on many levels Hershel knew what he was about to do was wrong, but hey……a dog has gotta go when a dog has gotta go.

From the laptop of an uncensored dreamer

SSpjut

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Mark Twain

“Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.”

 Mark Twain

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Eleanor Roosevelt

“One’s philosophy is not best expressed in words; it is expressed in the choices one makes. In the long run, we shape our lives and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And, the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.”
~ Eleanor Roosevelt ~

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