I am not a writer. You’ll probably figure that out by the end of this post. If I could be anybody, I would want to be Chondra Pierce. At least she’s funny. But, here I am nonetheless, writing this post for my new blog: Aging Awkwardly. Not a writer. Not funny. But, I can learn. I do not consider myself to be an expert and I consider myself unqualified to write about anything. The only things I considered myself good at were all left behind when I retired last summer.
I’ve never been in love with the domestic arts. In fact, I always treated them with great contempt and disdain. My mother and grandmother tried to teach me, but, I just wasn’t interested. In fact, I had a list of things my mother did that I said I would never do:
- Grow my own vegetables. Garden in any form.
- Can or preserve the vegetables grown in a garden.
- Use bacon grease to cook green beans until they were mush.
- Own or use a cast iron skillet.
- Own anything made of double knit polyester.
Unfortunately, due to decreased income and copious amounts of free time, I have done a lot of items 4, 6 and 7. I am happy to report that I still haven’t violated numbers 1, 2, 3, 5 and 8.
So, what is Aging Awkwardly all about? Like me, that hasn’t been clearly defined. So, for now, I will be sharing my experiences and thoughts about different parts of the middle age female journey.
Awkward means hard to handle; difficult. Aging is hard to handle, and, it’s definitely difficult. I’m not exactly embracing it. But, maybe with help, I can find a place where I can tolerate it.