Name Your Age

People with names I associate with my school days are showing up in retirement announcements. I am accustomed to Linda and Bob aging out of the office. But now, Heather and Kyle are collecting social security.

Once Courtney and Tanner are up for AARP, I’ll know my daisy days approach.

Different Pants

Yesterday morning after I got dressed, a quiet thought came to mind. I would be wearing different pants to work that day.
What? I checked myself in the mirror. These pants were fine, in fact they are the nicest pair I own: midnight blue pin striped dress pants I got from my great-aunt’s latest closet clearing. They went well with my sweater. They fit nicely.
I would wear different pants to work. The jeans I just got from Goodwill, said the quiet thought.
No, I am wearing my pinstripes! No jeans. I like dressing well on Mondays.
THEN THERE WAS ICE ON THE STEP. I slipped, fell, landed directly on my left foot. Water and leaves and whatever grows on wooden decks all sopped into my nice pants.
Husband rescued me, iced and elevated my ankle and wrist, covered me with blankets as the adrenaline wore off. I called my sister the RN and got her advice on treatments.
Then I lay thinking, OK Spirit Guides, thanks for the note about the pants. … I GUESS I JUST NEEDED TO FALL DOWN FOR SOME REASON?!
no answer.
Then came a soft notion in the back of my mind, that I needed to learn how to ask for help.
It is popular joke on psychic folks to say, I will believe in psychics when they all start winning the lottery. Ha. So clever.
This is a psychic’s life: You receive information your guides think you need.
The jeans, which stretch and did not hamper my use of crutches in any way, were a good choice.
Thanks, Spirit Guides.