Gotcha!

Here we are; two old fuddy duddies, rambling around the house attending to our chores. Something has changed. An unspoken competition has developed and it's going strong. The man who was always chastising me for my longstanding forgetfulness has now joined the ranks, and I am delighted. Here is how it goes;  "Honey, are you warming the kitchen?", he says, as he watches the flame on the gas stove heating nothing.  Not to be undone I notice that the faucet is running in the bathroom, long after he has had his shave. "Honey", I demur, "are you planning to wash something in the sink?" The gotchas go one all day and there are plenty of them.

Now that we spend a lot of time together there are those little annoying habits that come to the surface. One such habit is my leaving toast crumbs on the counter. After 50 years of living with this man I know when he has me, like when he says "Honey, were you thinking about getting a little bird?" Although my wit has never been as sharp as his I had a good one yesterday. When I noticed the fly in his pajamas was in the back, I asked, very sweetly, "Honey, have you had an anatomy change?"

Life would be dull now, but we have the delight of all those gotcha moments.

Funny is as funny thinks!

Have you ever noticed how doctors are getting younger, print is getting smaller, people are talking softer? Welcome to the 70’s Club. We might be diverse in our interests, politics and religions, but we have an abundance of similarity in navigating the term called “old age”. In some ways every day is an adventure, and we don’t even have to leave our house.

If you have a sense of humor you are in for a joyful ride. If you don’t, brace yourself for some sobriety that will make you want to drink.

It was a fine sunny day when I finally got me hearing aids. I placed the tiny little buggers in my ears after I placed a battery about as big as period in the slot; a feat in itself. When I opened the front door I heard the birds singing. What an auspicious beginning. The day progressed but my husband seemed to be yelling at me all the time. I think he needs to invest in hearing aids. Don’t people who are hard of hearing talk loud? I heard things I had not hear in a long time. The sound of my pee in the toilet, the voluminous snores of my husband taking a nap, the roar of the cars zooming by my front door, all delivered to my delicate ears of 70 years plus.

A few days later I was in the car going to a doctor’s appointment, (what else), when the car started making a beeping sound. I frantically looked at the dashboard for any warning lights, to no avail. The beeping continued so I turned off all the knobs and buttons. The beeping continued. I wondered if I was putting my life in danger by continuing to drive. I stopped the car. The beeping continued. Finally an aha moment. The batteries in my hearing aids were dying. Everyday there is a new puzzle to solve. Welcome to the 70’s Club.

Now we are in the 70's County Club!

If you grew up in the late 40's or 50's, you are now officially in the 70's Country Club. Ah, a country club in it's own right. If we made it this far we deserve to be highly admired. You have paid your dues, you have walked the course, you have putted, and pounced, and now you can sit. Legally sit; in a golf cart or overstuffed chair, but legally sit!
Now the real state of affairs. Yes your food bill is way down, but your medicines expenditures have taken wings. You don't bother with life time guarantees on your new purchases.  You hold no grudges because you can't remember them. Your dating the medical community, but you get senior discounts. Yes we are a privileged class, so enjoy every moment as I share with you how we traverse the uncharted territory with aplomb and savvy as only one of our experience could.  We all have stories and I am going to share some of mine. I hope you will share yours too in the feedback section.

Hurricane Irma; a dutiful son and his wife, my husband and I, sheltered in his home with the generator running. Their four dogs cherry picking the most comfortable chairs, while their barks fill the air with a cacophony of sound that was far from a Schubert symphony. A big screen TV with more choices than the penny candy store of my youth. Three remotes, and surround sound too. High tech everywhere we turned. No off and on switches in this house. I'm already missing my big blue chair.
The morning after the high winds I woke up very early as I usually do. The whole house was in slumber, including the dogs. Routines, don't we love our routines? Make the coffee, sit in my chair, write in my journal. I tiptoed to the kitchen to make the liquid brew and saw the contraption sitting smugly on the counter. It was a coffee machine, however it also made cappuccino, espresso, and who knows what else. All of this was depicted in pictures. I measured out some water and when I started to pour there were no ounces listed, just pictures; a carafe, a half carafe, a tall cup, a small cup. Mmmm.
I thought I'd go for the half carafe. Now time to add the coffee. The beans had to be ground. Another machine. No on and off switches here like at home. A dial, a funnel, and a shoot. Ok, go with the flow. I found the coffee measure but it wasn't in tablespoons, it was a picture with the number 2-3. Does that mean 2-3 measures per cup, or one measure for every 2-3 cups or  - - -. I didn't quit, I said a prayer and went for broke. The coffee, to my amazement, was half way decent. Now to turn on the morning news. That's another story. Just remember 3 remotes and you will get the idea. How I love my home, my routine, my simple existence.