Boomers, is it me or has time been speeding up significantly since we crossed that threshold into middle-age (albeit years ago)? I’m not talking about the typical Monday through Friday workweek that skips two days and then starts again before you even realize that there was a weekend in between. I am talking about years advancing faster than a PowerPoint presentation on automatic timing. Do you follow me? Well, I’m glad you do, because you know what they say about misery. Come take at trip with me down memory lane, and I’ll show you what I mean about fleeting time.
There I am, a scrawny, four year old girl, clogging around in a long skirt and mother’s old high heel shoes, and playing grown up with my miniature dolls who live inside their tin doll house. There was no Pre-Kindergarten back then, so I am enjoying my last year of freedom before starting school. I wish I could tell you that my childhood was spent doing exciting things like children of affluent people do, but my family was poor and we didn’t roll like that, so let’s get back to my own monotonous history.
Moving forward a few years, you’ll see that I have
