January 1, 2009
I got home and took off my shoes and jacket, and put on my slippers and the sweater I wear in the house in the winter. And then it hit me: I’ve turned into Mr. Rogers.
I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but middle age happeneth to us all.
January 2nd, 2009 at 12:57 am
ROTFLMFAO!!!
January 2nd, 2009 at 3:13 am
Hold your breath, another few years, old age jumps out of the bushes, grabs you around the throat and says boo. Dame Satchel Pooch, and her clan….
January 2nd, 2009 at 7:44 am
Just don’t start playing with puppets….
January 3rd, 2009 at 11:28 am
Ahhh, but Mr. Rogers was a child at heart whose favorite Crayon color was lemon yellow. That’s a good thing!
January 3rd, 2009 at 10:23 pm
Good point, Angie! If I could only have Mr. Rogers’ affability and sweetness instead of his dorkiness.