We all get old in the end – redux

WE ALL GET OLD IN THE END – IF WE’RE LUCKY!
I spent all day dealing with computer issues (and found out what a broken dongle is), so I’m taking the easy way out on my blog and sharing this funny email my brother forwarded to me. I looked for the name of its author, but couldn’t find where anyone claimed credit. Wish it had been me (although I’d call the gunshot sounds backfire noises).
Disclaimer: I’m only 65, so it was 50 years ago, not 60, when I was a teenager.

I changed my car horn to gunshot sounds. People get out of the way
much faster now.

Gone are the days when girls used to cook like their mothers. Now they
drink like their fathers.

You know that tingly little feeling you get when you really like
someone? That’s common sense leaving your body.

I didn’t make it to the gym today. That makes five years in a row.

I decided to stop calling the bathroom the “John” and renamed it the
“Jim”. I feel so much better saying I went to the Jim this morning.

Old age is coming at a really bad time. When I was a child I thought
“Nap Time” was a punishment Now, as a grownup, it feels like a small
vacation.

The biggest lie I tell myself is…”I don’t need to write that down,
I’ll remember it.”

I don’t have gray hair; I have “wisdom highlights!” I’m just very wise.

If God wanted me to touch my toes, He would’ve put them on my knees.

Last year I joined a support group for procrastinators. We haven’t met yet.

Why do I have to press one for English when you’re just going to
transfer me to someone I can’t understand anyway?

Of course I talk to myself; sometimes I need expert advice.

At my age “Getting lucky” means walking into a room and remembering
what I came in there for.

Actually I’m not complaining because I am a Senager (Senior teenager)
I have everything that I wanted as a teenager, only 60 years later. I
don’t have to go to school or work. I get an allowance every month. I
have my own pad. I don’t have a curfew. I have a driver’s license and
my own car. The people I hang around with are not scared of getting
pregnant. And I don’t have acne.

Life is great.

I have more friends I should send this to, but right now I can’t
remember their names.

Now, I’m wondering…did I send this to you, or did you send it to me?

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No Birthday please, by Mona Risk

Schoolchildren anticipate their coming birthday with excitement and impatience. For a day, they are pampered, spoiled, and cherished to their little hearts’ content. I have often observed my grandchildren’s joy when preparing their special party, greeting their friends, grinning ear-to-ear while listening to their Happy Birthday song, and opening their presents. They can’t wait to start again next year. I probably acted the same way at their age.

Kids in their teens want to grow up fast, fly with their own wings and tackle the word, even if they carefully hide their inner fears and their hearts beat a little faster.

During our twenties, we still like to celebrate birthdays, but we prefer intimate celebrations with the man of our dreams. Even better, we fantasize about a very special birthday gift, a sparkling diamond on our finger. I know I did.

IMG_5196After that, things change. The day before my thirtieth birthday, I carefully examined my face for any suspicious line and my head for any silver thread. During the ten years that followed, I didn’t want any party for my birthday, but appreciated my husband’s vase of red roses, or box of chocolate, or tête-à- tête dinner in a fancy restaurant.

A week before my fortieth birthday, I noticed the crinkles and shadows under my eyes and avoided the mirrors. No birthday please. Not private because I would rather forget I have already reached that step of the ladder, and certainly not public. Instead, I gave myself a new type of presents: visit to a spa, beauty products, highlights at the beauty salon, and change of diet because my metabolism was suddenly too lazy.

A fiftieth birthday is a day any woman wants to ignore and erase from her calendar. She would rather hear her significant other tell her, “I love you. You sure look younger than your forty-one years,” rather than, “Happy Birthday, sweetheart. You sure look great for your age.” There is a subtle difference, but men are sometimes dense about some subjects.

Strange enough when you hit sixty, you suddenly turn wise, count your blessings, enjoy your achievements, spoil your grandchildren, and shower your kids with advice about what to avoid because you did it wrong. You take one day at a time and live it fully, ignore other people’s judgment and stop blaming yourself for everything.

Yesterday was my birthday, a happy one. I received a vase of red roses from my husband. My friends insisted on taking me out for dinner. My children called, and the grandchildren sang on the phone, “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear grandma,…

In spite of me claiming, No birthday, please, I was so happy to feel loved by the people I love so much.

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Mona Risk
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author
http://www.amazon.com/Mona-Risk/e/B002E1GCIM/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_5
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I love being an old lady

I love being an old lady.
Really. I do.
I’m no longer a chick (cute, dumb or otherwise), a ditzy broad (although I have my senior moments) and I don’t have to worry about make-up, perming my hair or wearing the latest fashion.
Doors are opened for me. Young men offer me their seat on the bus so I don’t have to stand. Clerks offer to carry out my groceries. Do they think I’m feeble or do they respect me because of my graying locks? Either way, I really don’t care. At least no one has been rude to me in ages and I don’t have to stand while commuting in a public conveyance.
Young women aren’t jealous or derisive of my body or attire. I haven’t felt the sting of another female scoffing at what I’m wearing or sneer at my lack of taste. Maybe they chalk it up to being an old lady, but the reality is that I never had and still don’t have a sense of style.
What is old lady attire?2015-08-02 DH aqua polaroid In case you didn’t know, it’s clean. Comfortable. And convenient. No glittery low-rider pants with hard to find belt loops that always seem to come undone, tight hammertoe-creating shoes, flaking eyeliner and mascara, pokey, push-up underwire brassieres or hand-wash only silk shirts. My usual attire consists of a colorful, somewhat supporting sports bra, yoga or sweatpants, and a colorful ‘scrubs’ top with pockets for my pen and notebook, a tissue or two, and my smartphone. After I slide into my Crocs or Go-Walk shoes (no chance of blisters or bunions), I’m ready to tackle the world.
There are a few negative aspects of being old. I need reading glasses, but I don’t need them for gardening, driving, or scouting rainbows or wild turkeys. I’d rather not have the achy joints, but other than that, physically, I’m in great shape. My heart works well enough that I’m not breathless just walking across the parking lot to the grocery store. My brain still functions fine. I may not remember what I came into a room for, but I know my name and all the important stuff: phone, social security, and credit card numbers.
I’m glad I paid attention to my grandmother. I brushed my teeth, ate well (maybe too well), and still take my vitamins. I have all my teeth, pertinent parts, and can cook and clean better than any woman half (or one-fourth) my age. My advice and/or opinion is still sought (sometimes) and I can crack a joke with the best of them. True, I only get wolf whistles from my husband, but he’s the only one I want them from anyhow. And thanks to that now long gone miserable time of life referred to as ‘the change,’ I no longer have to worry about getting pregnant. Phew!
Do I have any regrets? Duh? Don’t we all? However, I’ve learned that no matter what, I can’t change the past. I can do my best not to make the same mistakes again, can gently urge my daughters, granddaughters – and anyone else who might listen and benefit – to not make rash choices and ALWAYS treat others as they want to be treated.
Yup. Be kind, patient, and enjoy the life you have right now. Tomorrow you may be laid up because of an accident due to road rage. Or without a job or best friend because of hasty or cruel words. Or maybe have a horrible toothache because you didn’t brush your teeth.
I’m hoping I’ll avoid all of the above discomforts because along with getting older, I think I’m getting wiser.
Viva gray hair and wrinkles! I must have done something right to survive the last sixty-something years!

NITWW full 1MB

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