I don’t know who coined the meme quote, “I don’t like to brag, but I can still fit into the earrings which I wore in high school.”  I find that amusing, especially as I still have the earrings that my sister Joyce gave as a gift for being in her wedding, 40-some years ago.

I’m the same in many other ways.  Though my hair barely skims the middle of my back, I still wear it long even though I’m often told that I’m too old for this style. After decades of ironing it, I’ve let the natural curl come back.  Okay, so I’m no longer that reddish brown color — my fabulous hairdresser, Robert McCain, blends ash-blonde with warm brown to hide the grey.  But my eyes still shine, I still cry at the drop of an insult, and I only weigh about ten pounds more than I did when I graduated from Corpus Christi High School in 1973 — though I doubled my weight at one point and had to bust my butt to get back down to a comfortable 112.

My heart still wobbles when I see a child struggle to tie her shoes, or a parent holding a toddler’s hand.  I fall silent when I walk into a room of beautiful women wearing fashionable clothing.  I have a party-persona which skims the surface and draws out the stories of everyone whom I meet.  I know the history of a dozen spouses by the time I leave a party.

I can’t sit  on couches or lounge chairs.  I’d struggle so much when I had to rise that any relaxation would be forfeit.  I don’t get massages and I instantly regret any manicure as a wasteful, temporary modification of a chronically broken, weak set of nails.  I pick the polish off and deprive myself of coffee-shop trips for a couple of weeks to recoup the expenditure.

I’m less bitchy, I think.  I’ve embraced the theoretical concept of nonjudgmental listening even though I have not yet perfected it.  Several people who don’t know me well have recently said that I seem different.  I took their observations as the compliments which I am sure they intended.  Speaking of compliments, I still cannot take an open, obvious compliment without stammering.  (Thanks, Melissa Mann Saubers, for reminding me to just say ‘Thank you’).  And thank you, Molly Merrigan, for the kind remark about my appearance last night.

And while I am handing out gratitude, a special award goes to Dan Ryan for Hosting Above and Beyond the Call of Duty.   Words fail me..  And I love The Goat.

Someone else told me last night that I looked good.  They seemed shocked.  Their surprise did not offend me.  I understood what trying events of the last few years they assumed would have left me haggard and frail.  I laughed and explained that I thrive on adversity.  We left it at that.  But I suppose in a sad way, it’s true.  I have conquered the art of rising to occasions.  I’ve finally perfected the Miss Manners Smile.

So, here it is:  The seventh day of the twenty-sixth month of My Year Without Complaining.  I’m still me.  And better days lie ahead.  Life continues.

The earrings.