Older than Dirt

Hey, I am back! I have to tell you that my dear friend Lysa has the best blog. I have laughed and thought to myself, "My goodness she has a funny life!"

Well, I guess I need to revisit my own daily life.

Recently I went to Myrtle Beach with four of my dearest friends. We ate tons of seafood, sat on the beach, laughed, shopped and decided to get a henna tattoo. Four of us headed into a store front that advertised henna tattoos. We trounced into the store to be greeted by a guy who had more body piercings than I have pores. We smiled. He scowled.

"We would like to get henna tattoos," I said.

"We're out of paint." he said.

"Out of paint?"

"Yeah, go across the street to the beach store," and he turned his back to us.

Hmmm. . . maybe he didn't want to mess with four very out of place women who were looking for a little adventure.

So we trotted across the street to the beachware shop. Still smiling, "We would like to get a henna tattoo, please."

"We don't do henna tattoos here, but there's a place down the street. Let me give you directions," said a very nice young man in his twenties.

He gave us the name and detailed instructions on how to drive there. As I listened, it didn't seem to me hat it was very far away.

"How far is it? Could we walk?" I asked.

His face turned serious and he reviewed each one of us closely.

"It's about a block and half away. Y'all look like you're in fairly good shape. You might be able to walk it."


Did I hear him right? Did he think that we "old" ladies might not be able to walk a block and half? I did hear him and he was serious. We thanked him and left somewhat deflated in our adventure.

We toddled off to the next store where we all finally got our little old lady type of tattoo and felt quite young as we sported our henna trophy back to our beach cottage for the night. It was about 7:00 pm. Hmmm . . .

In Faith,