"Sixty in Dixie"

I turned 60 yesterday, the day after Christmas. Frightening, eh?

Turning 30 bothered me, because it seemed like the carefree days of no responsibilities were over. 40 wasn't too bad, and fifty seemed like a normal progression.

But turning 60 is a whole 'nother ball game.

My mother is 86, and a good day for her is having a good b.m. Which stands for bowel movement. Ewwww. And her daily highlights consist of watching a good show on PBS with Hercule Poirot or Doc Martin, or another exciting courtroom drama with Perry Mason, circa late 50's and early sixties.

She's got her 3 prunes to take at bedtime. And something to put in her coffee in the morning to insure the colon gets its exercise. Another ewww.

When I take her to the doctor....s I see the infirmed gathered in the waiting room. Most of them move slowly even with the aid of a cane or walker. Blessed I am not to be in that predicament....yet.

My birthday was great, however, even if it meant turning the big 6 0. My friends called, and I heard from my sis and her daughter. And my mom wished me a good b.m. And many many more.

If every day was your birthday, the world would be a nicer place to live.

So I'm sixty in Dixie.

No longer lickety-splitsy at sixty.

Soon to be rickety at sixty.

Watching old shows of Bill Bixby after sixty.

What the hell. Nixty to 60.

Peace and out. And may all your b.m.'s be good ones!

Ewww!