Is It Me? Or Is It Them?

Okay, I have to admit I just jumped out of bed to let the dogs out, coffee is brewing and I am am sleepy eyed. So maybe I am seeing things with a brain that is leaning to one side this morning. Worked on another round of edits for my book until the moon and sun started swaping places. But as soon as my feet hit the floor and the dogs scooted out to the yard I plopped down at the computer to see what excitement happened while I was sleeping. When you go to bed at 4am and are up at 8:30, not much exciting goes on in that window. But I am always hopeful someone was up earlier than me and I have mail.  This is my morning routine. I bring in my e-mails, check my blogs and hit facebook. You never know when someone special will touch base.  New comments for my blogs from friends faraway. Old friends saying Hi as they wake up. Messages from the writing groups I have joined. A notification from Etsy I sold a piece of steampunk botanical jewelry. And maybe a wink from a handsome man on Match.
This is my last month on Match unless I decide to try again. I seem to dabble on it and then wonder why? The online dating thing confuses me, heck, dating confuses me. But I try to keep my flirt factor up. It is hard to meet men when you are glued to your computer writing at all hours. And I am addicted to mine!
The first thing I see on facebook, an ad off to the side for Match. I see Match ads everywhere, but this one caught my eye. A handsome male face and then the words under his photo Date Men Over 50. Meet 1000's Of Senior Singles Near You. Join Now. The shock factor hit me. OMG. Seniors at age 50??? Pulease, give me a break. No wonder Match and I don't match. Even the Thrift Stores don't consider you Senior until you are 55. Me, let's not talk about my age. I may be in the grave. But such a young looking corpse.
So then, I grab my cup of coffee and look at my e-mails. Aha! My eyes blink twice as I look at my new message. Is it me or is it them?  An e-mail from an online writing magazine. The subject line reads: Lay vs. Lie (vs. Laid). I sip my coffee with excitement. I know what the difference is! If I were in class my hand would be waving to get the teacher's attention.  I lay on the couch watching TV, I lie about my age and maybe I'll get laid. My goodness, why is a writing mag 'splaining this to me? I put my coffee cup down and open the message with anticipation. Boring. Only talking about how to use the words, and, gee I got them all wrong. Phooey! But this is my world and I'll use my words as I please!
The thoughts alone those words brought to my brain perked me up and now I am ready for the day. Lunch with the gals and a class at Emory tonight. A Life Training class. I am such a puppy I may need some training. I run through the halls, roll over to get my tummy rubbed, wag my tail for dinner and love to ride with my head hangin' out the car window catching a breeze. And they dare to refer to those over 50 as seniors. You'd think we were old dogs!
Age is a state of mind, and my mind says I am still growing like a wildflower in an open field. I have so much to do, so many hats I like to wear, so many new friends waiting to be found, so much to say. I decided I needed a new business card. One just for my best of friends, those who know me well and get it. We laugh on the phone about my wild stories. I am suddenly the widow who has opinions on everything, I talk about life's big issues, I play, I work, I have dogs. Strangers ask me what do I do, and they are gone before I can finish my list. I am a storyteller. So my new title: Professional B/S Artist. I fear I am not taken seriously by those who can't smile at life. My business card gives power to my words. So, dear friends of mine on my blog, consider yourself on my list of favorite folks. I am sharing with you the card I only share with those who have won my fancy and get it.
Senior at 50, LOL. Me at my age? The candle is lit at both ends and the flame is bright!

If you need glasses to read my card, don't fret. Me too? But I love glasses. I have reading glasses in every color. And, men like them, I have found. My red ones always get a cool from the younger guys. Those senior guys over 50 borrow them to read the menu with me! From studious to sexy with the swipe of a hand and the glasses placed as needed. There are no seniors, only those who think they are old.
Widow Lesson Learned: It is better to be a viewed as a puppy wiggling your butt in excitement than to be referred to as a senior over 50.