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Looks like that someday is here...

When I was young and complained about some ache or pain, my mother would say, "Wait until you are MY age." I AM that age now. My eyesight stinks, my hearing is not what it once was, and I guess my memory is not the razor sharp sieve it once was. Or at least that is what my son gently tried to explain to me this morning.


He was noting some arthritic pain he experiences from being an avid guitar player, one who has had two major surgeries on his left (fretboard) wrist and elbow. My reply was to say that I now experience neuropathy and arthritis in both my hands, all the time. ("Mom, are you listening from wherever you are?")


As if that was not enough of a reminder of how much of an old fart I have become, we had a discussion about the settings on my beloved espresso machine just this morning. I love that damn machine, and it took me some serious attitude adjustment to learn how to share it nicely. We like our coffee made differently, so some time ago, I programmed one of the buttons to his brew taste. It is not worth explaining why, but I recently changed the settings on MY button, telling him my button was programmed for his type of brew. Meanwhile, I reprogrammed HIS button to the way MY button used to be, and over the last few days, he has complained that there is just too much milk in the latte. (That is how I like it.)


That led to a discussion in which he tenderly tried to convince me that the discussion I thought we had about changing the buttons, in fact, never happened that way. So, I guess it looks like that someday is here. Getting old really stinks, but it sure beats the alternative.



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