Happy New Year

I’m back.  I did seriously plan to end my blog . . . and it was not a ploy to get reactions.  Seriously.  But I did get more reactions via email than I expected and evidently there are some loyal friends and readers out there who enjoy my ruminations and want me to keep going.  So here we go.

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            The internet is full of jokes about the “joys” of getting old, but I like to make up my own.  Faced with the option of shoveling snow or dashing off some spontaneous nonsense, here are a few that I just made up while watching the snow fall. 

You know you’re getting old if:

• You don’t know what day it is until you check your pill box for empties.

• You moved from shoe laces to Velcro straps on your tennis shoes.

• You set off airport screening devices due to metal replacement parts.

• You use shopping carts for support while shopping, but still try to look cool.

• You call your doctor by his first name, because he looks like he’s 12 years old.

• You can’t slide into your car without bumping your head.

• Your arms begin to look like you spent an unsuccessful career disarming bombs.

• You’re proud if you can see your belt buckle without using a mirror.

• You consider the remote control the greatest invention since long-handled shoehorns.

• You think you’re being followed, but it’s just your artificial knee clicking.

• People who look to be your own age refer to you as “mam” or “sir.”

• You’re so bald that you can put your glasses on backwards and terrify people behind you.

• You now have fewer body organs and more replacement parts than an old Chevy.

• Strangers hold doors open for you and you smile and let them.

• Your leg scar is a status symbol and proof of membership in the heart bi-pass club.

• Attractive women are only flirtatious because they know you can’t catch them.

• You think your grandkids are demon possessed because of their speed-texting thumbs.

• You think the nurse who says, “And how are we today?” has formed a bond with you.

• Knowing the bathroom location is a priority on your first visit anywhere. 

• You’re not sure if your wife loves you or pities you.

• At class reunions, you are convinced that you don’t look as old as your friends.

• You’re afraid to call people in your phone book, since so many are now gone.

• You learn ingenious ways to avoid introductions, since you can’t remember names.

• You don’t worry about carrying heavy things. Some young guy will offer to help.

• You can avoid embarrassing situations by acting confused. 

• You also avoid difficult tasks, like installing snow chains, by using the same ploy.

• An open fly with your shirt sticking out is acceptable and considered informal attire.

• You need a second pair of glasses to find your first pair, which are on your head.

• You consider kids with baseball hats on backwards to be morons.

• You see no reason to be in a hurry anymore.

• You wear white socks with black pants as a secret signal to other senior insurgents.

• If you’re a man, you view proctologists with nervous suspicion and try not to smile.

• And you never, ever use a proctologist within 50 miles of San Francisco.

• You’re expected to drive with your left turn blinker on at all times.

• Your mouth pops open involuntarily the moment the dentist enters the room.

• A firemen unrolling the fire hose is a terrifying reminder of your last colonoscopy.

• You have the time to enjoy the little things that you missed in your rush to get nowhere.

• The smell of a broiling steak, a light snowfall, and a football game on TV is excitement.

These are just a few thoughts that popped into my mind as I avoid my chores.  Writing is another ploy I use to make Gayle think I’m working.