“Oh,” Grant muttered, mostly to himself, “well that’s good, I guess. Thanks, Auntie.” Grant shuffled over to the dining room to help finish setting the table with the other women. He didn’t look back.
I groaned. “That’s not a choice! Weren’t you going to take over your father’s business already? It has been handed down to the sons four times.”
A long time ago, I had decided to ride in the passenger seat. On one hand, this position is quite comfortable, easy and you can actually see the scenery pretty well. On the other hand, you don’t get to pick the direction where you’re going.
“Mom, can I go to uncle Marks?”I asked. “Sure , go get your stuff ready and packed, and I’ll call them.”Ok! “Uncle mark said yes.” “But you are gonna make slime , so we are have to go get the glue.”
It was late in the afternoon and me and my sister and cousin were bored and wanted to go on a golf cart ride. We all ran up to my grandpa and urged him to take us on a ride.” Alright, alright, i’ve got nothing better to do” he said, grunting as he got up from his chair and started walking towards the newly decorated golf cart, slouched over a bit when he walked, and as he
The late humorist, Erma Bombeck (1927-1996) once said, “Children make your life important.” I wonder if, when Ms. Bombeck made this claim, she had young children still at home. When my children were young, they needed much more of my time, which created in me a feeling of importance; however, as my children became adults, they needed less of my time. When they were young, my home was always busy and noisy, and I loved it. As the kids grew up, began working, became more independent, and eventually started moving out, I was left with extra time on my hands. With fewer people in a home, there were certainly fewer dishes to wash and less laundry to run. A few years ago, when this transition began, less of my time was spent cleaning, cooking, and rearing children. With more free time, I had a tendency to worry, and I felt lonely and sort of stuck in the house. I noticed my anxiety levels creeping up. I looked forward to weekends when my husband would be home with me and I had someone to socialize with. Enter my mid-life crisis! What does one do to combat the effect of a mid-life crisis? One does something reckless, of course. My recklessness took the form of riding motorcycles. When I decided to take up motorcycle riding, my initial thought was that I could save money on fuel for daily errands I might run, and I also thought it would be pretty cool to be a biker