June was a rough month for our friends and neighbors. Of our immediate circle of 8 friends, 2 suffered a broken foot, one had a torn meniscus, one had bronchitis, one an infected heart valve, one had major bladder surgery, one a wound that wouldn’t heal on her leg, and one had alternating pain/numbness in his feet.
Geez! That’s a 100% casualty rate.
My wife and I got off fairly easy. She got a case of poison ivy that was severe enough to require medical attention and earned her a new (temporary) nickname – “I.B.W.” (Itchy, Bitchy Wife). I am happy to say she is fully recovered and has regained her sweet disposition.
Of all our friends, I got off easiest. I suffered only a non-life-threatening head wound when a coffee cup slipped out of my wife’s hand and glanced off my head after I announced her new nickname.
No more caffeine for her!
Though I think most Baby Boomers still feel young mentally, our bodies are starting to sing another tune.
In about a month, I will no longer be a sexagenarian. That always seemed like something of a misnomer to me anyway. It was the only group I have ever been a member of that had “sex” in the name and I had to wait until I was 60 to be in it.
In lieu of being called a septuagenarian, after my birthday my age-related adjective of choice will be “superannuated”, which, like sexagenarian, sounds way better than it is.
When I was young I was called a rugged individualist. When I was in my fifties I was considered eccentric. Here I am doing and saying the same things I did then and I’m labeled senile. – George Burns