The famous Canadian scientist David Suzuki said during an interview on CBC Radio that when he reached 70, he entered the death years. I like him. The man says it like it is.
When you reach MY venerable age and you wake up in the morning, it is, indeed, a good day.
Make sure you enjoy it.
I’d wanted to write about Queen Elizabeth I for some time and now that Queen Elizabeth II has died, it may be a good time to do so. The times were very different…
The recent beloved Queen of England was the head of a huge royal business which she managed astutely. As far as we know, she never ordered the death of anyone. However, the first Queen Elizabeth had absolute power.
Does someone really love you when you have unlimited wealth? And absolute power? And would he stick around if a gal won’t say ‘yes’?
The Earl of Essex, Robert Devereux, the first Elizabeth’s lover, was in such a position. She moved his bedchamber next to hers in 1559, but chose not to marry.
The poor guy needed the security of a wealthy marriage. He took the opportunity to wed Countess Frances Burke, widow of the successful English writer Sir Philip Sidney. He may have believed he would still be welcomed in the Queen’s bed.
Essex overestimated his charm and in 1601 he had a really bad day. Elizabeth had him beheaded. So much for making decisions without the first Elizabeth’s permission.
Poor Elizabeth I. Her face had been badly scarred by smallpox. She managed to live to 70, a good age then even though she wore a thick paste of vinegar and lead to cover it. She must have had plenty of cream underneath but one wonders about the many British ladies who also adopted the dangerous style.
I sometimes wonder if Mary, Queen of Scots infuriated Elizabeth I further just by being beautiful. What think you?
Recently a tooth became sensitive and one whole side of it broke off. I came close to losing a tooth which was no small deal. It would have been the very first I’d have lost since I had two-and-a-half wisdom teeth removed in my youth eons ago.
My memory says that was such a traumatic and painful experience, I’d rather give birth to three babies than go through it again. So you can imagine that I was upset by this recent dental diagnosis.
I pleaded, I cajoled, and talked the older specialist who removes teeth into letting me keep it. The man had a different mindset. He carefully checked, found no infection and decided it may last as long as I will. Whew!
I also spent a good portion of my dear children’s inheritance on saving that tooth, but I’ve still got it! I can’t help but think about teeth and the care of same these days, so here’s a brilliant poem on the subject for lucky you.
The toothpaste monster
There’s a monster in my bathroom
He’s an ogre, he’s a ghoul
He eats up my soap and face cream
And the paper off the roll.
And of late, he’s been devouring
All my toothpaste from the tube
Which I’m using three times daily
As hygienic dental lube.
He’s the grim toothpaste monster
A mean toothpaste fiend
Once breastfed on toothpaste
He was never ever weaned.
He eats Colgate’s and likes Tom’s
But the one he loves the best
Is the now three times better
And much improv-ed Crest.
Not having my toothpaste is
A real pain in the neck
How can I face my dentist
At my annual dental check?
View from Over the Hill 