The beginning of the beginning of the end.

In less than an hour I'll turn yet another year older. Panic has just set in. To the people who gleefully say, "But you're only as old as you feel!"...I say, "but my feet hurt, I might be addicted to Advil, I pull muscles just by thinking of making sudden movements, my knees creak when I climb stairs, I purposefully consider the fiber content in the food I eat, loud music upsets me, I can't drink to excess without vomiting in other people's beds, and I seek out the company of seniors so as to throw off the scent of the encroaching grasp of death." I'm turning 89.

Note: Spending the last few hours prior to one's birthday with scantily clad teens is not a good way to make oneself feel younger. It is, however, a good way to make oneself invisible. This is my new super power.

If I can just make it to 90...