Barbara Johnson - Living Somewhere Between Estrogen and Death

BARBARA JOHNSON

LIIVNG SOMEWHERE BETWEEN ESTROGEN AND DEATH

1997 Barbara Johnson

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All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV). Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers. Other Scripture references are from:

The King James Version of the Bible (KJV).

The Living Bible (TLB). Copyright 1971 by Tyndale House Publishers, Wheaton, Ill. Used by permission.

The Message (MSG). Copyright 1993. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.

The New King James Version (NKJV), copyright 1979, 1980, 1982, Thomas Nelson, Inc., Publishers.

The New American Standard Bible (NASB), copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

Many of the jokes, maxims, and quips included in this volume have been contributed by friends of Spatula Ministries, and in many cases it has been impossible to identify the original source. Appropriate attribution will be made in future printings if the creators identities become known.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Johnson, Barbara (Barbara E.)
Living somewhere between estrogen and death / Barbara Johnson.
p. cm.
Includes biographical references
ISBN: 978-0-8499-3653-1
1. Aged women. 2. Aged womenAnecdotes. 3. Aging. 4. Old Age. I. Title.
HQ1061.J545 1997
305.26dc21

97-1635
CIP

Printed in the United States of America
09 10 11 12 13 QW 39 38 37 36 35

To Gopher Bill,
my perfectionistic engineer husband.

I call him my joy-robber, but the truth is he has made me look so hard to find the hidden joys in life that Ive found more joy than I ever dreamed possible! He is the solid, practical anchor who keeps his airhead wife grounded; I love to hear him say Im his best friend. Hes my invaluable helper, facilitator, and coworker, and without him none of my books would ever have been completed.

Contents

1. The Wonder Years
When we wonder how we got this old and why we didn't save for a facelift!

2. Fat Farm Failures... and Other Excuses for the Middle-Age Spread
You have a heart of gold. That would explain why you weigh two hundred pounds!

3. A Fact of Aging: What You Lose in Elasticity You Gain in Wisdom
It's not that I'm against exercise. It's just that when I look at my body I feel it's already been punished enough!

4. Growing Old Is Inevitable; Growing Up Is Optional
Wild in the spirittwinges in the hinges.

5. Precious MemoriesHow They Leave Us
Young at heartslightly older in other places.

6. Grandmothers Are Antique Little Girls
Grandkids are God's reward for our having survived parenthood!

7. MENacing MENstrual Cramps, MENopause, MENtal Failure... Is There a Connection Here?
Men are like parking spaces. All the good ones are already takenand the rest are handicapped or their meters are running out!

8. Ready for Liftoff!
Im a child of the King... still living in palace preparation mode.

The Wonder Years

B ill and I went on a cruise recently that left us both feeling younger than our yearsand exhausted too! When our tour group assembled on the first day and we got a chance to look each other over, Bill and I were surprised to discover that we were apparently the youngest ones there! When you consider that were no spring chickens (closer to Geriatric Junction than we like to admit), you can imagine how old those other folks looked!

I wondered if the trip had been described as a senior citizens special somewhere in the fine print (which we never read because neither one of us can see fine print anymore). But we werent upset about it. At first it was sort of fun to be the youngsters of the group; I figured that would give me an excuse for any mischief I might get into.

But by the second day, the newness of being young again had worn off as the flip side of the situation became obvious. Every time we left the boat for some sort of bus excursion, again and again we heard:

Uh-oh! I left my sweater back on the boat.

Has anyone seen my pocketbook? Oh, no... I must have left it in the restroom.

I cant see a thing without my glasses. I mustve put em down when I looked through those pay-binoculars back at the scenic view.

After each one of these announcements, all the old eyes seemed to turn expectantly to Bill or me. Sagging faces would wrinkle up into a hopeful smile. Oh, honey, thats so nice of you to go get it for me, they would say as Bill or I heaved a patient sigh and headed back to retrieve the lost items.

We assisted them as they slowly hobbled up and down stairs; we waited outside restrooms holding their purses, scarves, sweaters, totebags, and half-eaten sandwiches entombed in fast-food boxes. After every stop, we loudly guided them as their feet struggled to find the steps of the bus. Just a little higher... okay... good... up a little more... youre almost there. Thats it. And then we pushed and shoved to get them to the top of the steps and back to their seats.

Then, back on the bus, we suffered through the same sort of confused conversation with at least one of them:

Here you go! Heres your seat.

Are you sure this is my seat?

Yep, this is it, all right. Just scoot on in, and well be on our way.

It sure doesnt feel like my seat... I had mine fixed just right, and this one is tilted back too far.

Well, just lift that little lever andoops! Too fast. Your teeth still in?

I dont think this is my seat. I was sitting closer to the front. Now I cant see anything.

No, you were right here. Youll be able to see as soon as Marcus takes off his hat. See? Heres your crocheting, and theres Agness magazine that you borrowed.

Thats my crocheting? I thought I was making a pink sweater.

Finally, everyone would be seatedusually with one or two of them still fussing that someone else had their seat and a few not even certain they were on the right busand off wed head for our next stop, where wed go through it all over again.

At mealtimes, Bill and I read the menus out loud for our companions, who couldnt seem to make heads or tails of it. We cut up their meat, spread mayonnaise on sandwiches, fetched extra napkins, and tracked down the hot water to dilute too-strong coffee.

Sometimes when one of these feeble, confused, white-haired tourists was asking for help, Id smile what I hoped was my patient-looking smile and hope the old lady couldnt read my mind, which wanted desperately to say, For goodness sake! This is so simple. Cant you figure this out for yourself?