Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Last night I asked my son about the ages of students in one of his classes at college. I was hoping that there were some people his own age that he could make friends with. He tells me, “There are people in there of all ages. The youngest is 17 and then there’s this really old lady.”
“A really old lady? How old is she?” I was thinking gray hair and a cane.
“Oh Mom, she has to be around forty.”
“WHAT?” I about screamed. “You’re telling me that the really old lady is about 40?”
“Whoops, I mean....”
“Michael there’s no use in trying to back track now! You think I’m really old?”
“No Mom, you’re different.”
How in the world can I be “really old?” I mean I ride a Harley, I have tattoos, I love leather! Yeah I color the gray in my hair, but heck early gray runs in my family, or that's what I tell myself.
Really old my ass!
Just now I got a phone call from my daughter. She sounded all serious and asked me if I’ve been keeping up with Brothers And Sisters.
“Yes, why?” I thought she was calling to talk about Sarah and her sexy French boyfriend or the fact that the kids though their mom was a lesbian.
She drew in a breath and then this came out of her mouth,
“Mom, can you be tested for the Alzheimer’s gene?”