We've moved. Those of you who know us aren't surprised, because this is our 8th move in the 33 years we've been married. "Why do you move so often?" you may ask. "Damned if I know." I answer. Several of you have made the pledge to have us committed if we ever utter the word "move" again.
We are now in Eustis, Florida. "Where is Eustis, Florida?" you may ask. "Damned if I know." I answer. We are close to Umatilla, Ukahumpka, Apopka and Yeehaw Junction, Florida. I feel like we've become characters in "The Dukes of Hazard". (That's an old TV show for you young'uns.) Right up the road a piece is Paisley, Florida obviously settled by my son-in-law's ancestors. I've always thought that Dave's quiet, stoic nature was due to Seminole Indian blood in his veins.
I had a couple of senior moments last week. When you don't feel old, and the image in the mirror doesn't look particularly old, you just take it for granted that no one looks at you as being old. I was in the checkout lane at Publix last week when the "elderly" cashier and the "elderly" lady doing the bagging started asking me about what was going on in Washington, and will "we" be losing our social security and medicare benefits. Okay, I admit I look old enough to be getting social security, but then the next day it really hit me. I was outside of Lowes with an employee helping me get a large box in the van when another customer stopped and gently elbowed me out of the way and said "Let me help him.". I thought that was very nice of him until I realized he had to be at least 65 years old and he's helping me! How old and decrepit do I look for heavens sake? I guess I shouldn't feel insulted. I actually invited him to come home with me and help get the box out, but we couldn't figure out how to get his wheelchair in the van.
