good morning, boys

Very rarely do I feel old.  Oh sure, I have an occasional day when I dress a bit frumpy or I make a creaking sound getting up from a yoga pose.   I usually am very aware of my posture and my balance.  I make a habit out of moving with a purpose.  Earlier this morning, I felt old.  geesh.

In my attempt to stay vital and young-looking, yesterday was a tune up day.  You know, put a little paint on the barn, polish the apple, gussie up a bit.  That means a facial, hair cut, hair dye and of course another hour of hair highlighting to make it look “sun-kissed”.  Manicure and pedicure, great music, scriptures, 7 pages of an art appreciation book, amazing food and fresh air.

Feeling put together and ready to take on more of life.

After all of that, then sleeping on said gussied up hair, I awoke to rather JOYFUL hair.  Oh my.  So big and fluffy that I didn’t even bother to try and calm it down.  I decided I would feed the dog breakfast, let the chickens out of their coop and then hop in the shower and everything would be right with the world.

So my attire was adorable pajamas.  Top and crop pants that matched, little tiny black and pink flowers with a delightful black braid running down the front.  Very cute in the catalog, not quite as cute at 7 in the morning all wrinkled and askew.  Then I slid on some sparkly flip-flops for the morning jaunt to the coop.

Let me digress here for a moment.  When you are a stay at home person, you don’t see many human beans that often.  You don’t actually talk to many folks in person.  Heck, even when I make a trip to the grocery store, I mind my own business and sometimes even check myself out.  Again, no human contact.  So basically, it is me and the dog.  I will say she is very non-judgmental.  She is good with my “pale blond roots”.  She is good with me serving her breakfast while still wearing my pajamas.  She is pretty much good with everything about me.  ha

Back to my delightful tale.

So, I schlep out to the chicken coop, offered fresh water and food, gathered egg number 352, tossed down some watermelon rinds and some scratch and turned to come back into the house.

My feet were wet from the hose water, I carried a less than clean egg in my hand, remember………….my hair………..joyful…………….that’s when I heard/noticed the boys.

I say boys, because at some point in my life, young, tan, very well-built men in their early twenties became boys to me…………………

rooferThe neighbor next door is having a new roof put on today.  There were maybe 6 or 7 young strapping, smiling, polite “boys” wearing tight jeans and were lifting and hammering and moving and working ALL LOOKING AT ME as I came into their view from above.  Maybe I surprised them more than they surprised me.  ha

I was standing right there.  Big hair, charming pajamas, a dog and two chickens at my feet.

Man, oh man, in a split second,  I wished I looked like Christy Brinkley (at any age, really),  oh this old thing, just a bikini I like to wear around the backyard.  hahaChristy Brinkley

When the “boy” in charge said, howdy ma’am.  I just smiled, waved and said what any older deer in headlights would say:

Good Morning, boys.



11 thoughts on “good morning, boys

  1. I am laughing out loud at this! I can just picture you (as I would be), in pajamas and morning hair, with a whole group of guys staring at me. Oh boy!
    And that picture of Christie is the icing on the cake!

  2. I’m so sorry, but I had to laugh out loud…. deep belly laugh, at the thought of having someone see me in my pj’s without being ready for the world to see me!!!
    You made my day….. thanks :))))

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