Writer's Blog?

Wednesday April 16
Did you get your taxes in yesterday? Neither did I. That's why God made extensions.
So man (woman?) created blog and saw it was good. Until, of course, she fell victim to writer's blog, which is the temporary - one hopes - inability to put written word to page. Or in this case, screen. Now, this is my first blog and brief intro to The Spring Chicken, and all I can think to say is, howdy. The Spring Chicken clucks, and having clucked, moves on...oh, no, she's quoting Omar Khayyam now.
I've been writing The Spring Chicken for quite awhile. I like to flatter myself that it's rather an Erma Bombeck-ish (or make that peckish) take on life for those of us great chicks who have reached a certain age of maturity (make it 50, or if you're in a hurry, 45.) There's so much to talk about, laugh at and cry over at this stage of life. For one thing, I can't do my toenails anymore without a weed whacker and a telescope. So I treat myself to a pedicure, only it's not really a treat anymore because I don't trust anyone's implements and just like Elaine in Seinfeld, I am convinced they are all talking about me and it isn't good. All of my insecurities come out when my feet are in a pedicure tub. I feel so exposed and vulnerable, and I can't make a quick getaway without slipping across the floor of the nail salon and falling head first into the hot wax (and then they'll charge me extra.) My feet are funny looking anyway. My big toe is big and the rest of my toes are little. They're perfect toes for pointy shoes but like many of us Spring Chicks I have given up wearing pointy toes, along with high heels (to me anything over an inch is a high heel) and anything that requires nylons of any kind, even knee highs.
Thank God for knee high nylons, but be sure to remove them before your pedicure.
Come back and visit me again soon. I'll share info on my web site, Thespringchicken.com as it takes shape. I'll love hearing from my sister chicks.