The thing about aging is the table conversation at home revolves around an inventory of aches and pains. As my doctor says - welcome to old age. Yeah, I know, he's pretty sarcastic, but at least he believes in yoga. Recently, every morning my husband sits down at the table, turns towards his right and twists something, yells, lifts out of his chair and says he hurt his back. This has become a ritual. He's always surprised, and I haven't any sympathy left in me. He blames it on our chairs, but I'm not likely to serve him breakfast in a barcalounger, which we don't own anyway. Now, his doctor has given him handouts of exercises to do, and he has those rubbery things that stretch something, and hand weights, etc. He has had all this information for going on 15 years. But he still gets surprised. That's what old age is all about. The surprise of it. How did we get to be this old, we ask each other. I thought I'd be dead by now, my husband said the other day. Me, too, I replied. We are not adequately prepared. We don't have enough saved. We have no ideas about what to do at retirement. Which for my husband is next June. I mean, first there was 1984, then 2001, and now there is a black president, and we weren't even supposed to be alive for the digital age. I'm beginning to think - AMAZING THOUGHT - maybe I'll live to see a woman as president. It just gets weirder and weirder.

Yesterday, I neglected an important aspect of my medicinal routine - the non-prescription drugs. In my case, currently, there is the seretonin (hair), eye vitamins (I have a degenerative eye disease, as does everyone else over 50), the calcium with vitamin D, and vitamin C. I've given up on the multi-vits and Bcomplex and a few other fads. It's like having 4 meals a day, but one of them causes you to burp a lot and feel strangely full.

One of the most challenging aspects of aging is that one's friends are also aging, too. And how do I keep track of dietary needs, deafness, terrifying passenger rides in vehicles manned by impulsive manics with cataracts, strange hair colors that I know I shouldn't comment on, and a bizarre emeshing with dogs and cats that used to be pets, but now one must send get well cards to and condolences when one "passes". All my friends have transitioned from interesting and maybe quirky to eccentric or downright psychotic. I'm sure this applies to me as well, but I can't see the forest for the trees. Not with these eyes.

One surprising thing is how our kids seem to think we have as much energy as when we were forty. They keep encouraging us to do trips that would have us hospitalized and think we can actually carry the Christmas decorations up and down from the basement. Well, technically we can, but the pain afterwards, the pain. Last time we flew to Morocco to see one of our far flung kids, my right thigh fell asleep on the plane and still has not awoken. And taking care of our grandaughter has us running around until we finally get her asleep, then collapsing ourselves at her bedtime. I must say, I always lose weight when she visits, but I'm a nervous wreck, because I KNOW I do not have the reflexes of her parents, and must compensate by focusing solely on her and trying always to have a hand to keep her from falling or be in front so she falls on me. She had one bad fall at the playground a few months ago, and when my daughter picked us up in the car after doing her errands, she was so busy reassuring me (I was bawling my head off) that we both forgot about the child in question. I'm too delicate for these bumps of life. I used to be tough, now I'm mush.