Yesterday I talked about aging – again. Obviously one of my favourite blog topics and will likely continue to be as the rot process carries merrily along. I just wanted to say how much I loved your comments. I think everybody who chimed in feels pretty much the same about our age and our looks and how it's what's inside that really counts.
Last night this point was driven home to me by, surprise, my very own writing.
I was at my writer's group (my lovely, lovely writer's group – how I love those girls) and reading another chapter of my novel, when I came to the following paragraph. I was dazzled by my own brilliantness. If I was on Oprah, it would be The Doughnut Life Lesson. If I was Forrest Gump I'd be saying, "Life is like a box of doughnuts."
A doughnut box lay between them, empty save for the one with sprinkles; the one in the variety pack that nobody ever eats. When they were really young, Weezie’s boys would fight over the sprinkle doughnut, dazzled by the bright coloured candy on top. But, once they realized that the sprinkles were as tasty as dust, they started fighting over the less ostentatious Boston cream or the ignominious plain old-fashioned. Weezie used the sprinkle doughnut as a lesson in life. “See?” she had told them. “Looks aren’t everything. Remember that when you’re choosing a wife.”
