At the age of 87 I can finally “let it all hang out.” I can talk about how my mind functions similar to a slide show. One slide at a time.

When I turn a burner on the stove I need to also set the timer. Otherwise if the phone rings, or if an interesting thought creeps into my skull, a curtain will instantly descend over the previous mind setting. The next thing I know the odor of burning food will jar me back to where I started. Second time this week.

My kids tell me I have always been this way. Maybe so, but now it’s worse.

On the other hand, now that I’m 87 the pleasurable moments in my life are even better than they used to be. (I am not referring to sex, food or booze)

Oldtime pleasurable moments are about gazing at the clouds, trees, flowers. And small animals, including small humans.

And the very best oldtime pleasurable moments are about love (husband and family)  friendship, music, art, games. I don’t feel the need to impress anybody anymore. I can just be me,