No Title for Old Women

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Yeah, I don’t even have a title for this blog post. And, I don’t know where to start its content…other than the image above. I’ve started, then stopped – second guessing, thinking better of what I was writing…

I don’t have any answers. I suppose I am a person in crisis. I also suppose I should count my many blessings rather than moan how I am so misunderstood and ill-used. And, I suppose I shouldn’t share how the idea of my imminent birthday is making me sick to the stomach. Ooops, there I go again…sharing.

Forget it. I was never here. Oh, if only that was so.

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The Question Is…

“To be or not to be?” is not the question.

“How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll centre of a Tootsie Pop?” is not the question.

Not even “How many singer/songwriters does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” is the question.

The question is…

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“How many cups of coffee will be required in order for me to function at all today?”

That, my friends, is the question!