I Can’t See a Damn Thing in This Fog

Daily Post Prompt:    Foggy


Crystal pulled her glasses off for the third time and cleaned them. She tried lens wipes, spray, Windex, and soap and water; which left the worst film ever.

Her husband, Roger, watched impatiently from the comfort of his recliner. “What are you doing? The movie’s about to come on, and you’ve been fooling with those damn glasses for twenty minutes.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing? I’m cleaning them.”

“Looks to me like you’re rubbing a damn hole in the lens and eww.” His face wrinkled in disgust, “After everything else you’ve tried; you think your spit’s gonna do the trick?”

“I’m telling you, I can’t see! They’re all foggy and blurry. My eyes were just fine this morning.” Her shoulders drooped. “I give up; something’s wrong, Roger, I know it.” Her hands dropped to her lap. “I bet it’s a brain tumor, like moms.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Crystal; you don’t have a brain tumor.”

“I have been having more headaches lately,” she said.

Roger pushed the electric recliners up button. “Hand me the damn things, let me have a look, and stop sniffling. We’ll figure it out together.”

Crystal handed him a lens cloth and her glasses. “I could see fine this morning.”

Roger ignored the whiny, pitiful sound coming from his wife of forty years and studied the glasses. The lens sparkled, then he spotted the numbers on the temple of the glasses. He pulled himself, grunting from his favorite chair and shuffled to the other side of the house, muttering under his breath. A few minutes later, he returned. “Here, that should do it,” he said, extending the glasses to his wife.

Crystal put them on and broke out in a grin. “I can see! You fixed them!” She reached for his hand, but he’d already pushed the down button on his recliner and was moving out of reach.

She settled back on the sofa, ready for the movie, and started giggling. “And I thought it was a brain tumor.”

“More like dementia if you ask me,” Roger said, picking up the remote control.

“Well, how in the world did you fix them?”

“I didn’t; you had my reading glasses.” Roger turned up the volume loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Now, hush, we’ve already missed the half of the movie.”


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Aging Gracefully From Rags to Riches

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Your Number One.”

This prompt from The Daily Post excited me, untMaxine-and-exerciseil I looked up my birthday – yikes!

I’m one of those women who fight aging kicking and screaming and finding out the #1 song in the US on November 27, 1953, was Rags to Riches by Tony Bennett, was sobering. 

Jesus, I’m old

How does this song relate to my personality? I’ll try to put a happy spin on this little nugget of truth – It’s all about love, baby.

“I know I’d go from rags to riches
If you would only say you care
And though my pocket may be empty
I’d be a millionaire.”

I’m a romantic at heart and always have been. I’m a sucker for every chick flick that comes out, and to this day, the movie Love Story with Ryan O’Neal and Ali McGraw  brings me to tears. You remember the famous line?

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”  

Of course, we now know that famous line was a bunch of crock, but you can’t argue with success.

I grew up in a small Southern town in a middle-class home. We didn’t have a lot, but we had what we needed. And although, I’ve had a few heartbreaks along the way, today, I view myself as a very rich woman, not monetarily, but rich in love.

I have a wonderful husband, beautiful home and between the two of us, we have five adult children and eight grandchildren. If that isn’t rich, I don’t know how else to define it. Well, except – I can still do yoga.


Want to find your #1 song? Check here.

As always I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story. And as always, you can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood, PinterestBloglovin, Twitter @cofcmom, and Contently.