I've been reading Nora Ephron's (she wrote Sleepless in Seattle, When Harry Met Sally, Heartburn, Julie/Julia and sadly died last year) I Remember Nothing: And Other Reflections, and having a good giggle on aging and memory. I've said before I have little long term memory and now I'm wondering about my short term. Ephron tells how when she can't remember the name of something she starts working her way through the alphabet hoping that will jog her memory or thinking about how many syllables the word has or if all else fails she Googles it because having a Google moment is so much better than having a senior moment. Oh dear, oh dear, been there, done that.
She writes that at 69 she likes to think of herself as older, but not old, well I'm not that old, but I sure know what she's talking about.
When I got up this morning I decided that instead of giving in to my aging body's aches and pains (and Lord knows there's more than a few of them) that I'd get busy. So we did our 2 mile walk before breakfast, wrapped another painting for shipping (Mac sold another one), did a load of laundry and hung it out, mowed the front and back lawn, Swiffered all the downstair's floors and sat down to blog. Now I have to do my aerobics.
I maybe getting older, but I'm not giving in.