Proof that I'm getting old:

1) I got a financial magazine in the mail from my bank and didn't throw it away immediately. In fact, I put in on my desk with the intention of reading it. Which leads to number 2 ...

2) I forgot about the magazine. I'm forgetting things more and more.

3) I went to Disneyland last week and the beach. I had fun, but it took a lot of convincing myself that it would be more fun at Disneyland than it would be to hang out with my grandma at home and just let the "kids" go to Anaheim. I still have my doubts about if Disneyland was worth it. ;o)

4) I buy mixed nuts, extra-fiber wheat bread, normal colored underwear and I almost bought a bag of dates. DATES! I'll tell you what, I need a different kind of date, although the normal colored underwear might be hurting my chances.

5) I worry more about comfort than looks when picking out clothes in the morning.

6) I went looking for face creme to reduce dark circles and prevent wrinkles. Too expensive. Which is another proof of me getting old: tight-wad. Or maybe that's just a Gosney thing.

All I need now is a Kindle and some orthopedic shoes and I'll be good go to the early-bird dinner special and BINGO night at the community center. Not that those are bad things, oh heavens no. I wish this aging thing would speed up a little.

(And yes, I'm well aware that the majority of you who read my blog own Kindles or something like unto it. And guess what? You're all older than me. HA! So quit taking offense. And, I love you.)


  1. It's not called getting old, it's called maturing. Getting old would be forgetting how to use your Kindle. (Do they have prizes at Bingo night? I'll only play if they have prizes.)

  2. Ha ha ha, you crack me up!!! Amen to comfort!