askyermom

How am I this old? Some of my older relatives will not be offended by this question, but will agree with it, I bet. How is this time? What is this what?

I made a decision to consider new evening pastimes other than watching teevee and eating cheese. I switched to carrots and reading for a couple of days and realized that the couch is likely more of the problem than the activity. The reading is more energizing than teevee, but teevee is still unbeatable for unfurling one’s brain and sliding toward sleep.

Too late, I learned that aging takes a big leap at 60. I had noticed the overnight development of downy gray fluff on others and yet managed to be surprised at my own downy fluff. So, yeah, in a lot of ways, this year has been about noticing decrepitude, both creeping and leaping.

It’s easy to find all this depressing, but the advantages of age overshadow all the quibbles like slower reflexes and more naps. I feel wise, even when I forget nouns that aren’t very important. I pick my battles as if my energy matters.

Physically, we can always build muscle and we know well enough not to try to exercise like teens. I only follow fitness advice of women who are fluffy like me. I’m not interested in shredding anything. I just want to be strong enough and flexible enough to play with grandchildren, open jars and plant flowers and feel comfortable when I have time for comfort.

Sobriety is still great, but I’m in a tricky phase as I wrap up my third year. It becomes easy to coast, to think this will always be easy, to rock along in a leaky boat and forget to bail it out every day. It’s still leaking, even if you pretend it’s not.

The main thing I have felt as birthday 61 appeared is gratitude–not the polite sort of nodding acknowledgement gratitude, but rather the sit down and cry for a bit gratitude. All my kids are healthy and kind. I belong everywhere I go. My healing amazes me every day. Most of the time, I remember to focus on the donut and not the hole.

I am working all the time on bigger and better donuts. I published another book this past fall. I am not quiet. I bother senators and congress people every week. I am ready to rouse some rabble and refuse to take any crap for being optimistic.

I almost bought David Lynch’s lawn furniture, but the quality was terrible and the shipping would be onerous. I would rather get something local and call it David Lynch Approved lawn furniture.

It’s going to be okay.

Love,
yermom

My new book Don’t Eat Your Children is available at most retailers for mail order. Try this one: Bookshop.org. If you subscribe to my newsletter or my substack, you will be in the loop for whatever comes next, like paperbacks.

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