The joys of aging

The very first thing I do every morning---The New York Times word games; Connections, Solitaire and Wordle.  Then Luci and I take a walk.  The rest of the day unspools in various ways, but right now, it's all about finishing some house projects for the new year and for the much anticipated visit of Carlene, Bob and Jocelyn in January.  

I've wrung my hands and cried a few times over what my daddy used to call jackleg handymen.  They cancel at the last minute; they lack the tools, they charge more than they said they would.  So I have discovered an app called Task Rabbit that may be the solution.  In this app, you can request specialists in hanging, painting, moving, lifting heavy things, etc.  Then you can read the reviews and profiles of several men and women in the area who can be hired to do that one thing. 

I have learned this: if you ask the yard man (who may be excellent) if he can paint or hang pictures or do plumbing, he will always say yes!  He can spread paint, yes, but he may not use a drop cloth or tape.  He can install a new shower head, but he may lose a few parts to make it work properly.  

So I'm optimistic.  My Task Rabbit is coming on Friday--and he sounds competent and punctual based on his reviews.  

But back to word games. The word of the day is AGING.  Ironic because I have five close friends who have recently turned eighty--or will before 2024 is over.  When we visit, we often talk about that lurch into the 80s. 

It seems. not so long ago that we were all learning to spell septuagenarian.  Octagenarian is upon us. 

Age goes with us everywhere.  It's a fact.  Will we make it to ninety?  More importantly, will something we think worse than death cut our living short?  Are we--or our spouses and friends--just absent minded or beginning mental decline?  Will we lose people we love?  And how do we go forth after that? 

My friend Bonnie and I agreed that what we do now is live every day to the fullest and partake of anything that brings us joy.  

With war and unrest making news on almost every continent, with immigrants fleeing their homes and coming to America in record numbers, all on top of climate change and the great fear of Trump's possible re-election, we hardly recognize the world we live in.  

We do what we can, but we are determined to live our lives as fully as we can for as long as we can. 

I may be 75; some jobs may take twice as long as they did a decade ago, but--as I told Luci--I can still do hard things. 

She looked at me doubtfully, probably noting that I cannot run or squat or keep up with her when she's pouncing around the yard.  

Look, just watch me, I said.

I rolled and wrapped a defective 8 x 10 wool rug that needed to send back to Wayfair.  By rolling the wrapped rug vertically, one step at a time, I got it to the car and hoisted it in.  All this would have taken a man about five minutes, I know--but it wasn't easy.  I was proud to just get it into the car. 

Then I picked up a heavy box containing a large medicine cabinet.  Same rolling procedure, I got it to the car, lifted the hatch, and pushed it inside--all the while hoping a strong man would walk by and offer to do it for me.  It wasn't easy, but I got it done. 

This morning I've driven to Helotes to meet the new puppy, Marlow.  I've found a mirror at Papi's Mexican import store.  I've taken Luci in for her vaccines.  And now I'm going to do one of my favorite things--get in the bed and finish a good book.