Looking back with Lot's Wife

“Would you do something with me? That article thing can wait.” So my five-year old grandson Alex said to me this morning. But I’m no fun anymore. I don’t want to play The Brain Game and I don’t want to push him on the swing set. I wonder if he wants to read sports while I read the life and style section? I’m so tired I’m in that space where I’m comparing myself to absolutely everyone I’ve ever known and everyone seems to be doing better than me. My grandkids have worn me out in a week. I’m not talking about physically. I know I need to exercise more. My problem is: once I exercise and I’m in great shape, what do I do about my mind? I’m so tired mentally I can’t remember things. I keep forgetting my daughter-in-law’s name. Her name is Paige and I keep calling her Diane. She and my son have been married for twenty years and luckily I still recognize her face. This kind of thing naturally leads me to be concerned about age in general. My age in particular. Is

I have to say, as they say, that I love washing my car. Not the fancy automatic drive through which swishes the surface hard with brushes, and then whiz, bang blows it dry, dry. I used this for years, saying I deserved it because I was old now, no longer young and constrained by the need to conserve every penny. This sort of one-off savings is a family tradition. My mother was like this about sheets and towels and she led the way for me. I just threw away some of her pillows; she died in 1993 of old age. It shocked me recently to read an article saying you should change your pillows every two years. No wonder the country is in such a mess with people spending like that. This is not to be confused with me personally being a thrifty person. I spend like a drunken sailor on trifles better-organized people would balk at such as Taco Bell lunches and McDonald’s ice cream cones . I always get a soda when I go out to dinner, which makes me feel slightly racy and crazy