[et_bloom_locked optin_id="optin_2"] content [/et_bloom_locked]

I have decided that my new motto is OBB. Older but better, honey chile. Like fine wine. Or, in my case, balsamic vinegar. Tart with just the right touch of sweetness.

Isn’t it funny the things that bug us? For example, where the heck have my eyebrows gone? Or my eyelashes? They used to be long, thick, and luxurious. Now they’re stubby and fall out when I blink too hard.

And the gray hair. Really? I can dye my hair one day and the next my temples are gray. Go figure.

I really didn’t know I was so vain before things started dropping by the wayside. Let’s just say that gravity is a bear. I tell myself to just be myself, but I would like to be myself only better.

If I weren’t so afraid of general anesthesia, I’d check out getting a neck job. My face is okay, but the neck is getting scared around Thanksgiving. (Gobble, gobble, or turkey neck.)

I have to say that my legs are pretty darn good, but then my grandmother’s legs were gorgeous even when she was 92, so it’s good genes. (My son reminded me that her birthday is tomorrow. She was born October 26, 1897. He’s excellent with dates, people, and facts I don’t remember. Speaking of my grandmother, I loved her stories about her father fighting in the Civil War. I taped hours and hours of talks with her and I’m so glad I did. Just a hint for your own holiday/family memories.)

Anyway, I’m marching firmly onward and upward with my OBB banner. Even if things are going south or just plain falling out. πŸ™‚