Wings

Having wings as a middle aged woman is not an angelic thing.  It's more like an "oh, I can't believe that is happening to me."  You know what I'm talking about.  Those biceps that keep on flying when the rest of the arm has ceased moving.  Well, I have the cure.  It's sanding and waxing and refinishing furniture.  It tightens those muscles right up.  However....it's kinda nice having wings.  Always good for a laugh.  And who knows, I might even find that I'm able to fly one of these days.
Life is full of those little aggravating things that happen.  That can be troublesome.  OR they can be made into possibilities.  Depending on what I choose.  Or you choose.
I choose my wings...to remind me that I am born to fly.
blessings.