Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Anita Birt'sote Book on Aging

Aging begins the minute we are thrust from our warm mother's womb into the outside world. It's hurts like hell and all you can do is yell.

And so it begins. Life's journey from now until then. . .whenever and wherever then is. We have no choice about our parental heritage, if  you're  lucky your parents will have no illnesses to pass on to  you. Talk about a crap shoot. Enough of that. What can we control?

Happiness. Books have been written about being happy. For some, being happy is easy, for others not so. Depends on the cards you're dealt. As you grow up and study your family are the members interesting, boring, funny, thoughtful, brilliant, easy to be with, not too critical but critical enough, handy, inventive?

My Uncle John was a carpenter and I loved to watch him work. I especially liked the curly bits of shaved wood left over. I had black, straight hair and always wanted to be blonde (like Shirley Temple) with ringlets.

So I'd take the curly bits of shaved wood and twine them in my hair to make ringlets. Sadly it didn't work. To rub salt into my wounds, a new girl moved on to our street. Her name was Gwendolyn and she had masses of blonde hair and ringlets. She had a pale skin and I had freckles. We never became good friends. I climbed trees with my brother and went barefoot all summer.

As I've mentioned previously I'm writing a book. I think about it at odd times, i.e. waking in the night and bright idea comes to me. I do remember it.

I received my royalty cheque to-day. Stay with me. Buy my books. Keep the faith until my new book is published.  Don't know where, don't know when but ..it will happen.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com




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