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sister poopie jane

As I have said on more than one occasion, I never seem to make the right move when it comes to the mens. It's not that I don't know HOW to play the game, because I've seen it done enough times. I reckon the bottom line is that it seems like too much trouble to pretend to be a girly girl when I'm not. The potential is there, but the money to support that image is definitely not. Buying propane for the winter months takes priority over a new outfit every time, in my little world. I'm not a nagger...never have been. I've been a worrier and a fretter but never a nag. These days I don't even worry and fret over much. It seems that the older I get, the more petty the little things become until I just brush them away like you do a bug that's buzzin' around trying to get a rise out of you. Life is way too short to waste energy on being a drama queen after you get past junior high school.

The thing that baffles me is this..so many men say that they crave the company of a woman who doesn't expect them to do cartwheels and is pleasantly surprised when he does. They claim that women are nags and bitches and generally out to ruin their lives and cramp their styles. If they're not currently (unhappily) married to one like that, there's surely one in the past who did a number on him in the trust department making him emotionally unavailable to any gal who has something different to offer.

When I was young, I had this picture in my mind of what getting older would be like, and it was a whole lot like what I see with my Mama and Daddy right now. They sit in their personal recliners and nap when they feel like it and do whatever the heck they want while enjoying each others' company and allowing space for the other to continue to grow and change, even in their golden years. The traditions and family that have been their lives have been passed on to the next in line for safe-keeping, to be told again and again by the coming generations.

It's looking more and more like the old Poopster will be sittin' on the front porch in a solo rocker. Most of the time it doesn't bother me because life is rich and full of good friends and family and new adventures. Occasionally, though, there's a pang that comes out of nowhere and ends up in tears and sobbing over never knowing what true love is about.

And that, my friends, is why you can find me over at the nunnery.

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