Good Old Number 77

   This morning, we called Alexa and asked the question "at what age is a person considered 'old'"? Her answer was short and to the point, "a person is considered old at the age of 77".  Today, according to Alexa, I became old. We’re only old once. Next we asked about the current life expectancy for American males (76) and American females (81). Hmmmm, ladies, what's going on with that extra five years?

    Lynn congratulated me on making it this far considering my habits. Naturally I accepted her compliment with grace and dignity sorta. Lynn's wifely compliments usually contain a thorn and a sting. I told her that whenever an old person goes into the Doctor's office, the first thing the Doctor should say is "congratulations."

   As if on cue Shades of Gray by the Dead started pouring out of our Sonos system assuring us that not only had I survived but so had would we and we will continue to do so, regrettably without Jerry Garcia. Yeah.

   It’s painfully clear that I walk slower, have trouble getting up when I fall down or for that matter when I sit down (the difference between falling down and sitting down is also diminishing) and as far as getting in and out of any car, fuggedaboudid. It's an exercise in humiliating, comical, distorted contortionism. I always knock off my hat on the door frame as part of the sad effort.

   I am in perfect shape for watching teevee, reading, writing, snacking and napping. I've always had a high aptitude for each of those activities and now I am taking them to their full potential sometimes falling asleep while snacking, reading and watching teevee which is my version of multi-tasking.

   My latent desire for chocolate has realized itself with the development of an authentic sweet tooth which has forced Lynn to hide whatever sweetness we have around the house and ration it out in a little plastic baggie (which is my supply for the whole day). Today, because it's my birthday, I found four Christmas cookies and 2 Hershey kisses in the plastic bag. At this moment, the bag is down two cookies but both kisses remain. My idea of a balanced diet; two cookies and two kisses. Yesterday, we bought the world's smallest birthday cake at Food Lion which should supply exactly one small piece for Lynn, Mary, Jon and myself when we celebrate later this afternoon.

   Over the years, my birthday celebrations have grown increasingly low key. My next big celebration will be when I reach 80. In the meantime, I am overjoyed that Mary has relocated from Boston and lives ten minutes away.

   12 years after my birth, my sister Terri was born. Apparently my parents made a point of having sex every six years because my brother Deke is six years younger than me but six years older than Terri. My parents were a little off in their timing with Deke. He's born in November (roughly nine months after Valentine's Day) whereas Terri and I are both born in December on the 30th between Christmas and New Years. I was wildly premature and weighed only five pounds.

   Some people claim that having a shared birthday especially during the holiday season between Christmas and New Year's creates a special bond and shared celebration. Yeah, right. Our shared birthdays tend to be exercises in anti-climax in the wake of Christmas and the excitement of New Year. Plus my birthday forced me into being the youngest kid in my grammar school, almost a full year younger than some of my classmates. Yeah, thanks a lot.

   Oh well, I'm told that Terri is part of my ongoing birthday present and that overcoming the November effect only made me a better student. MMMMKKKKAAAAYYY. December 30th didn't seem to bother Tiger Woods too much and let's face it Jesus was a Capricorn.

   It's a nice crisp day here in North Carolina, a place that I never expected to be when I imagined turning old.  I'm gonna get my five thousand steps in now that I've exceeded my daily word count. It's great to be alive and I'll never be this young again.

   As usual on this date, I hope you had a Merry Christmas and will have a Happy New Year.