A sense of humor is a basic requirement for getting older.
How dim is my (our) mind in my house?
2 x 70 = less mind than the average 10 year old…
11:00 pm
She: What’s that noise?
He: What?
She: Put in your ears.
He: What did you say?
She: I heard something outside.
He: I’ll go look–let me find my glasses…
She: They’re on your table by your teeth.
He: I know I ‘m able to find them by myself!
She: I think it’s a burglar!
He: …a bugler?
She: Never-mind, I’ll go myself. Where did I leave my slippers?
You call 1-9-1…
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, May 11, 2013
Views from the Edge 
My husband says together we do not have enough good body parts to donate, if we had a donation card in our wallet. He believes the clerk smirked and turned away to laugh when he offered to sign the body parts donation card and the bureau of driver license.
God bless. Each day above the flowers is a plus, says hubby each day
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Ray’s Mom, I like that- “Each day above the flowers is a plus….” Be well and take care of the few parts you still have!
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I laughed and laughed when I read this. It was so real. My husband and I have decided that between us we have one memory, and I’m starting to wonder about that.
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Cynthia, I liked what you wrote, but now can’t remember what you said. Thanks for chiming in. Oh, yeah! Now I remember. Good luck to the two of you sharing a brain.
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Hi, Gordon. Steve’s poem reminded me instantly of this:
The Shape I Am In
There’s nothing the matter with me,
I’m just as healthy as can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, my blood is thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
All my teeth have had to come out,
And my diet I hate to think about.
I’m overweight and I can’t get thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
And arch supports I need for my feet…
Or I wouldn’t be able to go out in the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I’m all right.
My memory’s failing, my head’s in a spin…
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
Old age is golden I’ve heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder, as I go to bed.
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
And my glasses on a shelf, until I get up.
And when sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself,
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
The reason I know my Youth has been spent,
Is my get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went!
But really I don’t mind, when I think with a grin,
Of all the places my get-up has been.
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the obits.
If my name is missing, I’m therefore not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and jump back into bed.
The moral of this as the tale unfolds,
Is that for you and me, who are growing old….
It is better to say “I’m fine” with a grin,
Than to let people know the shape we are in.
Author: Diamond C Aloes
I hope this comes through in some reasonable format. If it’s a mess I’ll try to reformat it on Pages and try again.
By the way, the author’s name feels a little like a pen name.
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Hi C.A., Who would have thought we would instantly understand not just the sentiments, but the daily and nightly reality? thanks for sharing. Glad to know you’re “fine” – as am I!
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This sounds so familiar as the back and forth that goes on with persons of this age when both eyesight and hearing meet up with those annoying memory lapses. Love it.
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I don’t like to think how many times it’s happened to Kay and me! 🙂 “What’d ya say?”
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