A chicken is like a scaredy-cat, right? That’ll be me. My sister draws a W with her fingers and whips it at me like some people do to “give the finger” only she’s got 3 fingers up to make a W … and she says that I’m a wus. I’ve wanted to blog about this before, but I have no idea how to spell wus. Now I’m not scared of everything, it’s just that I’m a wimpy kind of girl who never did like gym class cuz I always got hurt. But my sister, well she’s athletic, and beautiful, and did I mention athletic? So I don’t go for family river-raft rides, nor do I care to ride ferris wheels, and I CERTAINLY don’t want to bungie jump! So I am a chicken, and dang proud of it, cuz I’m 55 years old and doggone it, I get to be me. If I can’t be myself at 55, when IS it my turn?
Okay. That’s my chicken Tuesday, which I am posting while it is still Monday but just barely, because I want to call it a night (because I’m a wus) and a bunch of people already have their chicken tuesdays posted, and if there’s one thing I’m NOT a-scared to do, it’s type on a dang computer!
Buck, buck, buck, bwaaaaack!!! G’night all.