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Muffins and Mayhem, Recipes for a Happy (if disorderly) Life
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Dear Reader,
It's "good enough." Those words never used to be in my vocabulary when it came to how I looked. But lately "good enough" is rolling off my tongue a little too easily, and it's worrying me.
Before I headed to the market yesterday, I told myself I should really change my clothes, because I'd been outside doing some gardening. Most of the dirt had brushed right off my shorts and T-shirt, but even after I turned the garden hose on full jet, I couldn't get the black soil out from underneath my fingernails. And my "You're a Pisa Work," pink nail polish was looking pretty ragged, too. A chip gone here-and-there. It makes me squirm just thinking about it (chipped nail polish has always been one of my grooming pet peeves). But instead of removing all of the polish, I simply chipped a few more spots, so the missing pieces would match, decided it was "good enough," and away I went.
So is this it? Is this the beginning of the downfall?
I'm a people watcher and I admit that sometimes when I'm watching people walk by, I'm thinking some of them should have changed their clothes and spiffed-up a bit before they ventured outdoors. I always used to wonder if that "desperately-in-need-of-a-makeover" look was a symptom of getting older. Maybe the older you get, the less you care? It troubles me, because I'm getting older and today I'm out in public, looking desperately disheveled.
But then when I was in the produce aisle at the market, my mind eased a bit when I saw two teenagers shopping with their mother. Instead of shoes, one was wearing huge, pink, fluffy, bedroom slippers, and the other was trying to pick up two bags of fruit with his right hand, while his left hand was busy holding up his shorts--otherwise the oversized trunks would've fallen down to the floor.
Obviously, age has nothing to do with it.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.MuffinsandMayhem.com
AUTHORBUZZ:
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Terri Giuliano Long, today's featured author, writes...
The only thing harder than being a teenager is being the parent of a teenager. Seventeen-year-old Leah Tyler has experienced the perfect upper-middle class upbringing, complete with an anticipated Ivy League scholarship and a future as a star athlete. Then she meets Todd and falls into a world of drugs, sex, and wild parties.
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