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It started with the hair.
I've noticed for some time that my hairline had been receding. But it wasn't until the haircut two months ago--when I changed my style--that I finally admitted the obvious that I was losin' it. My hair, that is.
So Rogaine joined the shopping basket with the melatonin and metamucil. But the recession was but the starting line for a myriad of other changes that have been hitting hard up to the present:
I no longer find job changes as interesting opportunities as I did as recent as two years ago. I'd like to find something stable. I have too many projects and commitments to devote time looking for that next job.
Mortality is hitting home. Not only will I be losing family members within a decade, but more of my peers are losing loved ones. And I can't easily let it go like I did in my younger days. (Ah, the ignorance--and optimism--of youth.)
As a reminder of my own personal mortality: my gut's getting bigger (and harder to get rid of), my endurance is shorter, and aches and pains are lasting longer. Same with The Spouse, who, being older, has been supportive but--I suspect--a bit gleeful--that we're approaching the same (low) plateau.
I know all this is normal. (Well, except the job situ but that's a rant for another time.) And the flipside of getting older is knowing how to deal with all these changes. No, not whining (I don't drink anyway) but the wisdom (hah!) to look at the situation coldly and say, "okay, what's the least painful way to deal with this latest bump on the road of life? And how much will it cost me?"
And I have a wonderful guide showing me the way. I called my mom yesterday morning. She was glad to hear from me, but said she was on her way out.
"Where you goin'" I asked.
"To my computer class."
"What?" I couldn't help the sound of surprise in my voice. My mom laughed.
"Yes. There's a basic computer course taught at the local library. It's free for seniors and this is my third day." She then went on to discuss her typing efforts and her "training" from my dad and her previous work as a registered nurse.
"I helped several of the people there," she said. "After the teacher's done talking, the lady next to me turned and asked, 'what do I do now?'" She laughed. "She still didn't know what to do with the mouse!"
(Image found on the Internet and all rights belong to its owner.)