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Are you getting old?


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I am so old that...

I have to take off my glasses to see what I am reading, or grow longer arms. :blink:

Do sharks have arms?

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eyes... I've SEEN you! YOU my dear are NOT old! ...me? I am VERY old!

You forget that I have seen you as well? You are not old either! But you are a great breakfast compadre.

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I'm so old...

(well, not so old, but old enough)

I'm forgetting what it was like to feel young.

I'm forgetting what it was like to not be cynical (instead of fighting cynicism every day - and not always winning).

At my age, I'm expected to be "mature" (looks too much like "manure" to me :rolleyes: )

I'm actually looking forward to retirement (if I live long enough) so I can start acting my shoe size instead of my age.

Not that I'm not already trying my level best at that. :biglaugh::dance:

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Shoot, I still remember the sound of the milkman's truck at 4:30 in the morning. I also remember those small aluminum boxes on peoples' porches where they put their empty milk bottles for the milkman to replace and put the full ones in. I remember seeing the cream on the top and the "paper lids" that you pulled after you shook it up. Remember those nice big glass milk bottles? The milk seemed to better then too. :)

And there was no Nintendo, Play Station, IPODs, computers, MySpace. Kids played outside all day long after school and on Saturdays and and Sundays. Yeah, I'm gettin old, but have many fond memories of those simpler times...

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Old age is tough on husbands -- But, it is important for men to remember that, as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping, as when they were younger. When you notice this, try to be a considerate husband and show some understanding.

My name is Wayne, and let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Beverly. When I retired a few years ago, it became necessary for Bev to get a full time job along with her part-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed. Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age.

I usually get home from the golf course, about the same time, as she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so, before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the country club, so eating out again at night, is not reasonable. I am ready for some home-cooking when I hit that door.

She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating, but now it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that the dishes won't clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed.

Another symptom of aging is complaining. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But, boys, we take them for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it our over two or even thee days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think that this is one of my strong points.

When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she need more rest periods. She had to take a break, when she was only half finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I am a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me, too.

I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Bev, and I am not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older, but guys, even if you just use a more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this letter, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile.

After all, we are put on this earth to help each other.

Signed,

Wayne

Postscript: Wayne died tragically shortly after writing this letter. Although his wife's prints were found all over the murder weapon, a Calloway extra long 50-inch Big Bertha Driver II golf club, the all-women jury took only 15 minutes to find her not guilty.

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Shoot, I still remember the sound of the milkman's truck at 4:30 in the morning. I also remember those small aluminum boxes on peoples' porches where they put their empty milk bottles for the milkman to replace and put the full ones in. I remember seeing the cream on the top and the "paper lids" that you pulled after you shook it up. Remember those nice big glass milk bottles? The milk seemed to better then too. :)

Getting old?

I can remember COAL deliveries, and I lived in an urban area. :biglaugh:

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Bunch of youngsters, I remember getting the first TV for miles and miles around, we milked our own cows and hauled our own coal from across state lines. Our telephone was a party line with 9 families on it. Gasoline was pumped by hand into a large glass container that sat on top of the pump with gallons marked and the gas was gravity feed into the vehicle. We all consided boycotting when it went over 19.9 a gallon......

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