Today, I make chicken salad.  I cooked the chicken breasts yesterday.  My class is coming for lunch tomorrow.  Bringing the rest of the food. 

And as luck would have it, (Hurrah!) the ladies who clean my house are coming today.  They come every two weeks.  I had that big breakfast party and over night guests last weekend, so there will be a lot of cleanup of sheets and floors.

I can't change my fitted sheets anymore.  I can't get the bottom sheet on.  There are so many small things you have to give up doing as you get older.  I don't like it.  But, that's the way it is.  You have to age gracefully??? Or give up using fitted sheets.  We didn't have those growing up anyway.

I was trying to deflate an air mattress last night--that my grandson let me borrow for last weekend.  I sat down on it to push more air out, fell, hit my head on a metal projection on a chest handle and cut my elbow open.  I called my friend Jeanette and said, "I'm being responsible and telling someone that I banged myself up.  You are it.  If I tell one of my kids, they'll nag me to go to the emergency room and I don't need to do that."  She called this morning to check on me.  I put my elbow skin back in place and taped it.  No problem.

Everyone worries about you when you are my age.  I haven't lost my mind--just my agility.  There's always a Bandaid on your body somewhere.  The important thing is not to break a bone.  I am really careful, but life requires movement--of which I don't do a lot.  Every doctor who sees me says I am in remarkable shape for my age--82 next month.  They say I'm "spry."  You don't use that word to describe young people.  Oh, well, I guess I'll accept that definition.

Yesterday I went to the bank, went inside and visited with one of the tellers who is always pleasant when I drive through, picked up two dogs at the groomer, and went to choir practice.  I guess that's spry.