News Of The Old

Well the walk went well this morning in the new shoes. They are more like ballet slippers in weight and structure than the shoes I've walked or run in for the past thirty-something years and they are incredibly comfortable. The knee which I have injured before is talking to me a little bit and I need to remember to listen to my body and quit worrying about pedometer apps and miles and so forth because to ignore what my body is saying is to risk injury which will require healing time, etc. and there is no need to be stupid. It's not like I have to fit into a wedding gown in two months or something.

I am as guilty as anyone of wanting to lose weight and be fit RIGHT THIS SECOND and that attitude will not cut it, Little Missy! That attitude leads to nothing but feelings of failure and discouragement and in this instance, at least, there is no destination, there is only a journey and merely to be on it is the thing.

So. Okay. Now I've given myself a little pep talk. How are you this morning?

I see that the beauteous Isabella Rossellini who is now sixty years old will be starring in (starring in?) an ad campaign for Bulgari. Now I will never own anything Bulgari but if I had money to burn, I would might go pick up some jewels or something from them just because of this ad campaign.

Annie Leibovitz is the photographer and by golly, that sounds like quality and delight to me.

Speaking of other news of the elderly and yet beautiful (in a completely weathered, leathered and deeply wrinkled way), the Rolling Stones may actually be getting a tour together for next year to celebrate FIFTY FUCKING YEARS OF PLAYING TOGETHER!
God DAMN!
Despite my intense dislike of crowds and so forth, I would actually go to great personal discomfort to attend one of those concerts. I mean surely, this has to be the last time, right? I saw the Stones back in 1982 or something like that in New Orleans and we thought they were old then. We thought WE were old then.

Okay. I just looked this shit up. (I love the internet.) It was 1981.

Honestly, I don't remember a great deal about the concert. And no, I was not completely fucked up. I hardly drank then at all and I think I would remember if I was tripping or something. It was just a strange time in my life.

BUT, hell, if they can get their creaky, skinny old asses up onstage to play some damn music, I can certainly figure out how to be in the audience. Right? Right?

Maybe.

Can you imagine the squealing which would pour forth from me when I saw Keith Richards? Forget Mick. I'd be there just to see Keith, my darling Rastafarian ex-junkie boyfriend.
One love, y'all.

I feel a little tingly just thinking about it.

Okay. I have things to do today. Like- renew my driver's license. I'm going to Monticello to do this because I doubt they have the traffic at the DMV there that they have in Tallahassee. Luckily, we had pork chops last night (as healthfully as I want to eat, there is no way I am not going to eat at least one pork chop a month and that's all there is to it!) and I think I feel the better for it. I sometimes wonder if I am not of a people who were meant to subsist on pork and rice with cream gravy. Or chicken, beans, and tortillas. I guess I'm a fucking peasant and that's that.

As with the walking, I am listening to my body although when it tells me that I REALLY need pizza, I am ignoring it.

Yours truly...Ms. Moon