I AIN'T WHAT I USED TO BE -

I am not exactly sure when it happened. There is no denying it. I AM A WIMP!
I used to be able to go out the front door and do gardening all day - and then go back inside and hang wallpaper and do some painting. Not any more. I go out the front door, approach clumps of weeds, reach down and get a grip on them only to discover that there is an evil force pulling on the roots from the other direction. They won't budge. My face turns beet-red and I walk away in disgust. I grab my shovel and push on it with my foot and it doesn't even make a dent in the soil. So much for my plans to create exquisite landscaping in my hardscrabble front yard. I refuse to give up so I keep at it until thoughts of cardiac arrest go through my mind, nothing that 15 minutes in the recliner won't prevent. It takes quite a bit longer to finish projects when 5 minutes of digging has to be followed by 15 minutes of lounging...sort of like a twisted landscapers' union break rule. If a job requires me to kneel it is not a pretty sight. There is generally a total-body collapse followed by a panicked feeling. How will I ever get up???

There was a time when I lifted one of those big white detergent pails full of concrete and a tetherball pole into the back seat of my convertible. (Yes, the top WAS down, and YES, I did have three or four appointments with a chiropractor so I could walk upright.)

I can no longer straighten my right arm. I asked the orthopedist if it could be fixed and he said sure. We can do Tommy John surgery on it. Me, John Smoltz and a one year recuperation. Nah. My poor ole thumb joints are swollen with arthritis. That left knee is weak as a geek.

When I am outside working I am always swatting away the black bugs I see out of the corner of my eyes. Then I remember they are just my "floaters"!

Last week when Pat and I were doing errands we saw a man with a T-shirt which read "GETTING OLD IS NOT FOR WIMPS!". AU CONTRARE! I AM A WIMP!