Remember when...

Twenty-two years ago, I quit smoking, hopefully for the last time. That means that I have now not smoked for as many years as I did. To commemorate my success, I bought myself lots of presents today, like several new pieces for my new, all-natural-fiber look, and a pair of silver Sketchers, which make me smile every time I look at my feet. And that also means my dreaded birthday looms, the big 67. As fond as my friends and I are of sitting around congratulating ourselves on how good we all look, that is still a hella-lot of years under the proverbial bridge. Okay, maybe 60 is the new 40 (or 50, I forget), I am closer to 70 than 60, lots closer than I realized. Sigh. Okay, now that's over. Today's image is from the days in the house on the edge of the world, a bouquet a neighbor brought over on my birthday in a Ball jar, which he asked be returned to him. He grew the flowers in a huge garden festooned with silver ribbons on wires to keep the deer away. I gave this painting to my wild man artist. He always liked it. I remember having a lot of fun doing it, and feeling kind of ambivalent about the outcome, but now wish I had it back. Remembering is good, yes? I am deciding, yes.