September | 2015 | Getting vintage

“I don’t mind friending you on Facebook because no one under 40 posts on Facebook anymore”. This pearl of wisdom came from my 17 year old niece. WTF? Being the uber-cool Aunt that I am, I respond, “so, what, you use Instagram? Snapchat?” She shrugs, “yeah, and Twitter”. Now I cannot for the life of me figure out how Twitter works. I know this blog is linked, but sending a tweet? I have no #%^*ing idea. I download pictures on Instagram, but as a communication platform, as “social” media…sort of clueless. I am not unaware of a common thread here. Instagram. Snapchat. Flickr. Twitter. There’s no real commitment here because it all happens so fast. You only have 140 characters per tweet. Snapchat is so fast, whatever you send is gone in seconds. Flickr? Well, I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds fast. In my lifetime, at some point, there were no computers, no cell phones, no tablets. If you called your best friend and the phone was busy, you hung up and tried again later. If you wanted to send a greeting to someone far away, you wrote a letter. Make no mistake. Although I know I sound like someone’s grandparent telling stories about walking to school in 10 feet of snow with no shoes, I love my cell phone. I prefer to text as opposed to making a phone call. For me, the contact with no real contact is the way I like it. But face it, that’s not a good thing. That’s a shy kid who tried to blend in as much as possible, growing into a shy adult who feels like a phone call is an intrusion and sighs with relief when an answering machine picks up. A woman who doesn’t have to spend a second with herself because she has so many “friends” to catch up with on Facebook. My 17 year old niece? She is a fearless, confident traveler, leader, and student with many friends. Friends she spends time with, laughs with, cries with, travels with, shares her secrets with. Snapchats. Tweets. Instagrams. Does she look at social media as a way of avoiding real life? Real people? Not at all. It’s a way to share her life in real time when they’re not with her. And sometimes even when they are. It’s the creamy filling inside a cupcake. It doesn’t avoid life. It makes it more delicious. Love Letters

carynjune

So last night, I get home a little late after services, and I decide instead of a shower I’m gonna take a bath. The weather has cooled a little, and it’s still a little damp from an earlier rainstorm. So I manage to get into the tub with a minimum of huffing and puffing, but later, between my bad left shoulder, my not so great knees and the fact that I seem to have gotten wider, while the tub has, indeed, not…, I can’t figure out how to get the #%^* out! I can’t seem to push myself up from a sitting position and there’s no room to turn to get myself onto all fours. This is ridiculous. I’m gonna have to wake up my husband and have him haul me out, or if that doesn’t work call the fire department. Can you imagine? No, don’t. Just…don’t. How did this happen? I’m healthy. I’m strong. I’m overweight, yes, but not yet a candidate for “My 600 lb Life”. Is gravity a little stronger wherever I go? Doubtful. Are my bones magnetic? Not so much. I think I may just be scared. Mistrusting that this body I no longer recognize will work the way it is meant to. It is a wake up call. My body is perfect no matter what the size, it will do what needs to be done. At the same time, it deserves respect. Exercise, nutrition, love both from others, and especially from myself. The petals might be a little droopy, but they are still beautiful. IMG_0632-0 Old Flowers