I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
I write fairly frequently here about Charlie growing up. Of course, he’s not the only one around here getting older: It’s my birthday today, and I’m 40.
Fout-ohmygod, as one my mom-blog-friend puts it. Like the narrator in T.S. Eliot’s poem, I grow old, I do grow old, and I actually do roll the bottoms of my trousers (ok, pants), because I’m too lazy to get out a needle and thread and hem them.
My mother did teach me to hem, years ago, and it really is …read more