My wife is on that crusade that comes with the beginning of a new year -- losing weight and (cringe) EXERCISING! It's not good enough that she has made the decision. Now I must join in the festivities as well.
She reads to me from Prevention magazine. "You know Larry, it says here in Prevention magazine, if you'd just take a half an hour walk after dinner every night, it wold improve your sex life."
"Honey," says I, "I don't know anybody that lives within a half an hour of the house." It got pretty quiet on that side of the couch after that.
She is right, though. I am gaining weight again. I think it's a memory problem. I can't remember whether I exercised or not. I look down at my feet. If I've got my tennis shoes on, I figure I did it and I go watch television.
I don't tie my shoes in the morning anymore. I figure sooner or later I will drop something. I'll get 'em while I'm down there!
And now that I am in my mid sixties, I have begun to think more about death. I've decided I want to die like my grandpa did: In his sleep --- Not yelling and screaming like all the other people in the car were at the time. And when I die I want everyone who knew me personally to say:
"Did you hear?" (sob) "Larry Heagle died." (sob) (much blowing of nose.)
"HE OWES ME MONEY!"
Ah, yes, it is so much fun dealing with aging. Hair is falling out where it used to grow -- and growing where it never grew before! On my ear lobes! I could weave ear rings. Out of my nose! I am forced to trim it daily and still it protrudes garishly. I swear to God my wife is sticking Rogaine up my nose while I am asleep.
When I sneeze I look like a party favor! AHHHHHH-CHEW! HAPPY NEW YEAR!
But who's complaining. Thanks to a severe motorcycle accident I spent three weeks in rehab -- in a nursing home. I have seen the future and it's not pretty.
So I am learning to take one day at a time and squeeze the living daylight out of each bit of joy that each day offers. Who would have thought that so much love could be garnered from my two rescued kittens from the humane society?
Or just being able to sit down with the lady wife, a bowl of freshly popped popcorn, slathered in butter and another movie from Netflix?
Don't really care if it's minus thirty degreee wind chill factor tonight. Hey! I AM STAYING OUT OF THE DAMN WIND!