LORI On Aging

In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.
****Edith Wharton

HANK: So Edith had it right--about so many things. Still, you've got to admit, the aging thing has its downside. But if anyone can make the downside have an upside, it's the always hilarious Lori Avocato. You know her from her series of mystery novels, and from mystery and romance conventions--she's the one in the middle of group where everyone is laughing.

And she's now the Chief Commanding Officer of the Mystery Chix and Private Dix, a fab and funny group of mystery/romantic suspense authors making its debut at the upcoming Romantic Times Convention. (Some of us Chix and Dix are going to wear costumes. Not me. I'm going to dress up like someone who knows what they're doing at such a convention. That'll fool 'em.)

Anyway, besides her very funny mysteries about nurse Pauline Sokol (the newest is Dead On Arrival), Lori's branching out into other writing. Essays on whatever strikes her fancy! And we convinced her to try one out on anything-can-happen-Friday on JungleRed.

Ah, aging gracefully.

Who the heck came up with that one? I mean, as far as clichés go, this one has to be right up there with good things come in small packages--leaving out: cars, houses, boats, planes etcetera.

Here’s how graceful aging can be. Your eyesight starts to blur so you can’t even read the newspaper without glasses you rarely can find, and soon the food on your plate blends into a fog of color. Thank goodness the sense of smell doesn’t go as quickly or we might starve.

“What?” becomes a frequent flyer off of your tongue. Of course if you have teenagers, who tend to mumble, your hearing may not be as bad as you think or at least as bad as they claim it is. But before you go spending a gazillion dollars on a hearing aid, have your ears checked. My doctor told me to tell my kids to speak up, and I’d save a gazillion dollars.

Skin is the body’s first defense against infection. When it gets cut, the chance of getting germs inside your body highly increases. So why with the “aging” process does the skin insist on increasing? Are we more prone to infection mid-life that the skin over our eyes droops down to nearly impede our vision? Does the skin below our jaw line really need to stretch out and fold itself over and over and over? And, really, does the skin of our upper arms have to...you get my point.

Aging gracefully? Puleeze.

Those creaking sounds you hear in this graceful process are your joints. Joints that have “matured” so that bone clicks against bone, causing you to “ooh,” “ah,” “aye,” and all together writhe in pain as you merely stand up from your seat, making it difficult to appear poised.

One would think that we’d want to spend less time sleeping as we hit the middle age mark of our years. I mean, if this is halfway shouldn’t we be going gangbusters the next half so as not to waste any time?

Let me put it this way: I call my daily naps “power siestas.” Somehow this legitimizes them and certainly lets others think that I am aging gracefully. After all, a power siesta implies, well, that I am powerful and following a tradition practiced by many countries for years. Surely it has to be good for us along with a proper diet.

Ah, diet and exercise. They really should go hand in hand. I’m not saying part of aging is dieting. Far from it. I think if you hit your eighties, you should imbibe in whatever strikes your fancy. In your seventies you should imbibe in half of whatever strikes your fancy and so on. Who cares if you enjoy a daily Martini, a cupcake or two, or a handful of salty potato chips? Age smage.

When I say diet I do not mean eating only grapefruits, all carbs, no carbs, carbs disguised as food (don’t get me started on “Tofurky”) or any other “diet.” I mean our daily intake of food--balanced from all the food groups (which I understand has recently been overhauled. However, I refuse to do any research on the new group structure unless chocolate has been added as the tip of the pyramid.) Against our wishes, we are what we eat seems to be proven on a daily basis.

To age gracefully, we really do need to keep moving. Our joints will attest to the fact that the longer we remain immobile our bodies will assume this should be our position for all eternity and give out...you get my point.
So, motion seems to be a very good idea. Daily walking, swimming, playing tennis, or doing mild aerobics is all part of the process. However when we hit middle age, the word exercise receives an honorary degree into the four-letter words hall of fame. A necessary evil. Oh we can try doing it in tandem with a friend, a group, or to jazzy music, but the thought of that power siesta always teases our bodies as we age gracefully.

I chuckle when a relative or friend now says they just can’t seem to wake up as early in the morning or they now take their own version of my power siesta every afternoon.

The irony of life and this thing called “aging gracefully” slaps us in our faces once again.

Age gracefully, one and all, and do not under any circumstances remain stationary for more then thirty-three minutes at a time.
If this is a slice of life...I’m way too old to lift my fork.