I have long been fond of saying "I don't mind growing older, but I never want to grow old." And I will keep on saying that!
Yesterday when I went to trim my beard, which had grown quite shaggy, I set the beard trimmer at "1" rather than the usual "4." Oops! Once started, though, I had to finish with the close cropped look.
This morning I looked into the bathroon mirror and saw a WATTLE! And not a simple single wattle, but a double wattle! What's that about? My father had a wattle, but he was "old!" I'm not "old!" I'm just 72.
Yes, my head of hair is far more salt than pepper, but that's just maturity showing. Yes, I have those dark spots on the backs of my hands and on my arms, but my dematologist assures me those are wisdom spots.
Sure, I creak and groan a bit more when I get up out of bed or my easy chair, but that's just because I'm still recovering from my knee replacement!
And when I open a kitchen cupboard, I sometimes ask Suzy if she knows what I'm looking for.
But I'm not old! I still have a lot of life ahead of me (quite a bit has already gone by, as well, but that's another story altogether). I've got plans! Why, next year, we're going to plant a palo verde tree in the back yard. We still have road trips to take. We have places to go, people to see, things to do.
So, where was I going with this post? Darned if I know. I've gotten this far, maybe I'll just stop and smell the bacon frying at this stage of...Our Life on Wheels.