Musical Chairs

My husband taught at the same school for 25 years. I subbed there and also worked there as a sales rep, so know most of his co-workers. For about the past ten years they've been meeting for breakfast on the Mondays of the minor holidays: Columbus Day, Martin Luther King Day, etc. They're all retired now and don't have to wait for a "day off" but still honor that habit. Everyone orders just what they want, pancakes, blitzes, eggs, a few oatmeals, lots and lots of coffee and one guy divides the bill and collects money at the end. The conversation used to center around school and teaching, and continued to do so for several years after. Now the talk is about politics, kids, grandkids, travel, and of course health.

And they've begun to die. Every year one or two. It's usually someone older than us, like Tom who died two weeks ago at 75. But this evening we received a call that Iris, who's the same age as us, just passed away. She and Tom were at the last breakfast, Columbus Day, and I spent time talking with each. I did say afterwards that Iris didn't look well. She aged fast, but then so did Barbara Bush and she's still alive. But Iris is gone.

I feel like I'm in a game of musical chairs and the stakes are very high. So far I've managed to get a chair, but when will I be the one left standing?

Shopping for a New Dress

People say I look younger than 68. I think I do, except when the lighting is bad (by bad I mean overhead) or if someone is looking at me from below (chin looks kind of saggy from down there) or if I'm in repose thinking about something and my face droops. I try, of course, to keep a pleasant look on my face if there's anybody around because who likes to look at droopy old lady faces. It can be hard, and sometimes I forget and catch myself in a store mirror and am horrified by my own face. I dye my hair and wear it in an updated style, which helps. I also keep my weight down and walk a lot for exercise. All of this means that I could pass for 58 if I really wanted to.

A lot of good that does when shopping for dressy clothes. Stores assume either that you're under 25 with a fabulous figure or that you're 68 and have fully accepted that fact and have let your hair go gray and wear it in a short perm and have a BMI of 30 and frown all the time. I don't want to look like I'm trying to be a kid, like a woman in our building who is my age and wears short tight tennis shorts/skirts with her ass hanging out in the back, or like another one who wears perky ruffles and looks like a damned fool. No, I want sophisticated and concealing (the upper arms are a bit saggy..........well, maybe more than a bit, unless I want to keep them almost flat against my body all evening and for sure never raise them. And I do have vericose veins, but I can wear dark stockings and hope nobody notices the lumps) and I want some color other than black, gray or white and I don't want to spend $500.

Oh well. I'll keep trying.