I worked all day yesterday on a book I am writing about what my brother did in China.  Wrote, rewrote, edited and was really pleased with what I had written.

Hit "save."  Hit save again just in case.  And lost what I wrote.  Can't find it on my Mac anywhere.  Which means that I am going to have to get in the car, drive to the library in Jones, Oklahoma where my daughter Pat is working and hope she can find it.  She is a "Word" guru.  I am thankful she puts up with all my Mac fumbling with over the top patience to help me.  She is stellar.

I have a list on paper next to my bed of the things I pray for.   I usually put a date by the thing I ask God about.  It is comforting to mark things off that God has done.   Each night when I go to bed, I pray for  people, events, the nation, family....whatever people ask me to pray for.  I wish I was better at remembering, but I have to write it down.

One of the items I haven't crossed off yet--is help from God so I can develop the ability to use this powerful computer.  Yes.  Sometimes I pray for seemingly trivial things.  And in this case, I am learning little by little.  I just want a clear mind and a good memory.

But when something goes wrong, I come unglued.  I don't handle it very well because I am so frustrated.

Maybe I should just change my prayer and pray that I will stay calm in distressful situations.  Patience is not one of the characteristics that I was born with--and I don't know that I have developed very much in the ensuing years.

I'm working on it.

Today, I think I am going to venture out.  I am tired of Eggos for breakfast every morning.  Chicken sandwiches for lunch every day, and something frozen and thawed out for supper every evening.

Italian food beckons.  Olive Garden salad with extra black olives.  

I did break down and start going to the drive through at Brahms to get a burger and fries every now and then.  We Americans have been trained from birth to need a burger and fries so that we can exist.  I hope they check their workers.  You have to eventually start trusting that restaurants are doing their due diligence.

There are so many problems out there that have nothing to do with catching a virus.  One of my lovely neighbors that brings dinner over to me on a regular basis is caring for her husband who is trying to get through chemo.

One of my sweet friends is trying to get a divorce finalized.  (His wife ran off with another man.)  And the courts have been closed for all civil cases.  He has been in limbo--it has been going on for over a year and now at a standstill.

Some are dealing with postponement of a surgical procedures they desperately need to continue a normal life.

All we want is normal.  Normal.  Whatever that is.  Whatever that was before all this began.  I wonder how many years it will take to get back there.

I hope we all appreciate normal when it finally arrives.

There is a dragon in the streets.  All I know to do is stay home in as much as possible because very few people are particularly interested in protecting me from their germs when I go out by wearing a mask.  I do appreciate the plastic guard shields at checkout stations.  

I went to the post office to mail a package yesterday and they had plastic guards.  I had the attendant drop the change in my purse rather than hand me money.  She was glad to do so.  I do that at the drive-in food chains as well. 

Those of us who have income each month can't possibly feel the desperation of those who don't.  How will they feed their families?  What are they going to do?Watching the lines on TV at food distribution centers  reminds me of men lined up waiting for soup--back in the 40's.  They brought their own bowls.

So we have two sides to a desperate issue.  1. Those who want everyone to wear a mask and stay six feet apart--in hope that will slow the spread and they won't catch it--hoping they can make it until there is a vaccination.  2. And those who want to catch it and get it over with so that things can go back to normal and they can get back to work and feed their families. 

I personally am on both sides of that issue.  I'm sure you are too.  It's pretty heartbreaking seeing people who have lost their jobs, lost all income, and have taken to the streets because they are desperate and don't know what to do. 

It's also horrible to watch families separated from loved ones in nursing homes. 
This is a crisis--because we are Americans, and we don't know what to do.  Americans are supposed to have solutions to everything.  I don't have one.

Sunday, the lesson was from Romans 14.1-19  I divided it into four parts--over how to get along with people who think different than you do.

1.  "Accept people who are weak in the faith."  Whoever.  They need the Christian fellowship.  You are the ones with the strength that God gives believers.  Share it.

2.  "Don't argue about disputed matters."  Being a Baptist, I want to dunk them.  (Buried with Christ in Baptism, raised to walk in the newness of life.) But some want to sprinkle.  If you are in Afghanistan and only have a helmet full of water...do your best.  Just stop arguing and live the life. 

3.  "Don't look down on those who don't do what you think they should do." The argument here was between Jews and Gentiles.  Jews wouldn't eat certain meats.  Sacrificial lamb, pork...  Gentiles did.  Jews worshiped on Saturday, Gentiles on Sunday.  Look at all the denominations in America that differ on piddly stuff.  The main thing should be the main thing.  Christ died for all of us.  We are all guilty.  We all need God.

4.  "Don't judge."  Now the author starts to meddle.  It is so easy to inspect someone else's life.  And there is nothing wrong with trying to help somebody who needs help.  But whatever they are doing wrong, leave the judging up to God.  You are not the instrument that God chooses to use for judgement. You are just the helper.  Christ said to get the beam out of your own eye before you try to take a speck out of another person's eye.

All four points need to be applied in America right now.  Accept people. Don't argue. Don't look down on others.  Don't judge.  We're in this together.  

Today, I remember all the young Marines I personally knew who didn't get to raise their children.  Who didn't get to come home. Who died in training exercises.  Or war.   I remember them--not just today.

Those who were in squadrons that Ken served with who went to Korea.  Who went to Viet Nam when half the country was burning their draft cards--they went because their country called them.  Did they want to go?  No.  But they did--and many didn't come home.

We have not had the draft since then.  Fifty or sixty years since then.  All of the military we have today are volunteers.  They go because they choose to serve.  And many die while doing it.

Both my sons were volunteers in the service of their country.


Ken said..."I serve at the pleasure of the president of the United States of America..."  Elected by the people of America.  And he served under a number of presidents in his twenty one years in the Marine Corps.

These who are willing to serve are the people we entrust with our future.

I can't watch a flag being raised without crying.

It is amazing, but when you do the one thing you don't want to do and get it over and done with, there are a million things that you have been putting off that seem to be no big deal.  

I drug out all the boxes of framed pictures that I was going to deal with "some day" and cleaned out the closets, took the pictures out of the big cardboard boxes and arranged them on closet shelves (ten foot high shelves) where I could "see" them and deal with them.  

They have been sitting in boxes for one and a half years.  Since I moved across the street to my new house with the flat driveway. (Nobody believes I would buy a house because it had a flat driveway--but I did.)

It took forever.  But........it's done.  I even had a shelf left for empty frames and glass so that when I want to put a picture in a frame I don't have to dig around to find a frame.  Or not frame the picture--because it is too much trouble.

I went to Panera with Ann this morning and had coffee and a sweet roll.  My first venture into the outside world to eat in months.  Wonderful!!!

Then went to a garage sale and puttered.  Bought an ancient Chinese foot bath.  Huge tureen where you put goldfish, put your feet in the water and let the fish nibble on your toes.  A Chinese pedicure.

I really needed that--almost as much as a moose needs a hat-rack.

Now all I need is goldfish.

Today I woke up without an albatross around my neck.  No stress.  My copy of the book has gone to the senior editor for final read and publishing.  I'm done with it.  Done, done, done.  The feeling is euphoric.  They have been in no hurry to publicize it because book stores were closed.

The question is, what shall I do with this day?  There is nothing that I have to do.  It has been eighteen months since I have had a day like this.

I think I'll do a lot of nothing.

I just finished reading Matthew and Mark last night.  I've been re-reading them for the past few weeks--little at a time.  I'll start Luke tonight.  I like his gospel the best of the four of them.  He was a physician and didn't personally know Jesus.  He came to salvation later.

He went to the source when he wrote.  He interviewed Jesus' mother--so we have the story of Jesus' birth and the manger story.  The kings who visited and the shepherds.  Luke wanted to get the stories exactly right.

He was the only one of the four gospel writers that put the word "daily" in the verse, "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me."  Luke 9:23

As a physician, he wanted to get the prescription right.  Once you become a Christian, you do it every day for the rest of your life.  Daily.

I take my meds every day.  Once a week doesn't keep me healthy.

Well, I did something I said I was going to do instead of procrastinating it until the last minute.  I cleaned out that closet.

There were boxes of fabric that, "I'm going to do something with someday."
I'm doing it.  It's going to the church sewing ministry.  There were a zillion pieces of fabric.  Three of those large plastic containers full.  The fabric will love its new home.  I used to sew everything we wore.  No more.

The ladies at my church sew for different ministries around Okla. City and Edmond.  When a ministry needs something, the ladies in the group sew whatever it is.  Quilts for babies, pillow cases for Boy's Town, etc.  Right now they are making masks.  They will put all that fabric to good use.

It is getting easier and easier to get rid of stuff.  I've never been a hoarder.  I always cleaned things out and gave them away when we moved.  I've moved 27 times.  I know how to move.

But the things I have kept now have due dates on them.  If I don't use or wear it within this year, they are history.  I'm tired of stuff I don't need or use.

There are two or three houses around here that when they have their garage doors open you can see why they don't put their cars in their garage.  It looks like a packed sardine can.  One rule I always had was that you can't put anything in the attic.  Things get lost forever up there.

If you don't need it, give it away.  Someone else does.

My friend Jeanette is going to come over this morning and help me empty a closet that I stacked stuff in.  I spent yesterday morning cleaning out my sewing room closet so I will have space in it when I transfer stuff.

Helping me means that she will sit and watch--and keep me focused on what I'm trying to accomplish.  It's not something that anyone else can really help me do, I have to do it myself even though I've put it off for a year.  I just don't want to do it by myself.  

Friends that will come and talk to you--while you do a job you don't want to do and keep you motivated--are the best. 

I had a "Wedding Wall" at the other house.  I arranged all the wedding pictures from Ken and me, our four children, and and ten grandchildren on the wall in my bedroom.  Those pictures are what I'm going to get out of the closet.

Pictures are a problem.  Nobody hangs them anymore.  They have zillions on their phones .  Back when I was young, you went to the photographer and had a family picture done every few years. There weren't many so they are special.  The ones my mom and dad had were black and white.

When I was in high school, the photographer would take your picture in black and white, and then tint it appropriately.  I was digging around in all the stuff I am going to go through today, and found a picture Ken had of me that he had enlarged by someone in Japan (and colored) when he was overseas.

I had forgotten all about it.  I was so young!!  Eighteen.  I'm sure I'm going to find a bunch of pictures in boxes that I have forgotten about.

I lost the day last Friday somewhere--and didn't post.  It's hard to keep track of the days when one day is exactly like the one before.  I thought it was Saturday.  I always take the weekend off from writing.  Oh well...

Jon brought Brady and Tate over Sunday afternoon.  I hadn't seen any of them in months and months.  Brady had made me a 82'nd birthday card and glued 82 cents on it (His own money) for my present.  He is eight years old.  Tate is five.

Tate looks like Ken.  It is uncanny.  He has ice-blue eyes.  Jon said that nobody on Jennifer's side of the family has blue eyes--clear back to her great grandfather.  Jon's eyes are still in question as to color.  He had blueish eyes when he was small.  They changed to brown later.  Strange.

I had my connection group over to my house yesterday.  Six feet apart, masks.  It was far superior than teaching the lesson on Zoom.  I ran to the donut shop before we began and got a dozen donuts.  After the lesson was over and everyone left, eight donuts were left.  Tate ate five of those.  

He came out to the back yard where Jon and I were sitting in lawn chairs and said, "Grammy, there were two other donuts on the counter in the kitchen.  Did you know that?"  I told him that I did and was saving them for my breakfast.

"Are you sure you want both of them," he asked.  "I could eat one of them.  "What could a grandmother say.  I thought it was polite that he asked.  "No, I don't need both of them.  You can eat the other one."

I don't know how he kept from getting sick.  However, donuts are the perfect manna.  Fat, flour and sugar.  What more could a kid want?

Talk about mixed messages.  Every time I turn the TV on somebody has a new message about what to do.  And how to do it.  There is no way to keep from getting this virus if you are "out there."  The only way to keep from getting it is to not be exposed.  The only way to not be exposed is to not be in contact with transmitters--people--since nobody knows who has it and who doesn't.  

Some people carry it  and they have no symptoms.  Testing seems to be pointless, because the tests don't work half the time.  And by the time you get the result--you may not have had it back when you took the test--but you may have it now.  Or you may test negative, actually have the virus, go back to work in a meat plant and give it to everyone there.

The only thing that stops polio is a vaccine.  The only thing that stops measles is a vaccine.  Whooping cough, diphtheria, and many other things have to have a vaccine.  I lived through a time we didn't have those vaccines.  It was scary.

So.  We can't stay in the house away from people forever.  We have to go get groceries.  I wear disposable gloves and discard them when I get into the car.  Not on the ground! in a trash bag.  I dump the sacks out on the floor of the utility room and leave everything sitting there for 24 or more hours.  Wash my hands.  Wash my hands and wash my hands. The produce gets dunked in mild clorox water and meat goes in the freezer.  We've learned where food really comes from.  Farmers, ranchers, produce plants, pickers, packers, trucks.

And even with all that, by being careful, I may still get it.  A virus isn't alive.  It just attaches inside your body and fouls up the works.  Be as careful as you can until we have a vaccine.  This is our new normal.  We have to adjust.  Like we did during WW2.  We can do it.  We're Americans.

Yesterday was a meltdown day.  My email was the first problem--and all of my personal emails are still going to "Junk."   I can deal with that.  Craig fixed the basic problem.

Then everything in the inbox vanished.  Craig came back over and fixed that.  It was something simple I should have known but I didn't. (Best son-in-law for the week--maybe for the year--maybe for all time, because I was so upset.)

But somewhere in the process, I lost the entire book I'm working on about my brother Bill's life in China.  Which I have been working on every day for three months.  Thousands and thousands of words, and notes of events to review.

My publisher called in the middle of all that to try and communicate and was coughing so horribly she couldn't continue.  Carona virus--I think. She had all the other symptoms.  I Begged her to go to the doctor.  She is supposed to call this morning at 11:00.  I bet she isn't going to be able to do that.  Stress!!

In the middle of all that, I called Pat and she said to drive to Jones, Ok. where she was working in their library--bring my computer.  I did, I drove there.

The road was blocked.  Had to turn around and go back to I-35 and take a roundabout.  Have you ever had the feeling the Devil was out to get you??

It took an hour or two, but Pat found two copies. Different copies with no date. I came home, paralleled them and page by page compared them until late in the night. And was able to put it together--and rectify almost all of what I had lost.

Yesterday--I lost the day.  Today is a new day.  I'm ready to start over.

I am a barely-literate-Mac-owner.  Ken and our youngest son Jon had an 

Apple-2E way back in the day.  The schools didn't even have computers at the time.  Of course, Ken would have one, and of course he and Jon learned together.  Ken was back from Viet Nam, just retired and finally getting to be a "real" parent.  Our other children were gone to college by then.  

The summer after Jon was in the third grade, the principal called us and asked if Jon could come teach them how to use the new systems they were installing--  Because nobody had ever used a computer.  Jon--ten years old--went to the school every day for weeks that summer, teaching the teachers the basics. And when school began, he was the tech advisor for the teachers.  

But...he wasn't allowed to use the computers himself.  It would have smacked of favoritism.  Go figure!!!  But a couple of times a day, the loudspeaker in his classroom would issue a call, "Would Jon Jacks please come to the principal's office."  I'm sure the other kids thought he was in trouble.

A couple of years ago when I was getting ready to move to Edmond and was cleaning out junk, I came across the ancient Apple 2E and called Jon--who was by then the physics teacher at Moore.  "What do I do with this," I asked him.  

He was excited.  He didn't know I still had it forty or more years later.  He took it to the high school and set it up in the classroom.  Kids were fascinated--and had fun exploring the primitive computer that people used back then.

I am still in the primitive learning stage.  Where is Jon when I need him!!  I called Craig--Becky's husband--to come help me this morning.  I can't get my email and have no idea what to do.  I need a third grader. 

Sunday, we had a lesson from Romans.  Very familiar verses.  Here is what it says in common vernacular. 

Romans 12:1-2, "I beseech you therefore brethren... (I'm beggin' you guys.) 

...by the mercies of God, (You don't have a leg to stand on other than a merciful God.  You may not have done everything in the world there is to do wrong, but you've failed. You've done enough wrong stuff that you need a lot of mercy.)

...that you present your bodies a living sacrifice. (I know they killed goats, sheep, doves, etc. in the old days back when they went to the temple, but I don't want a dead sacrifice, I want a living one--I want your  body as a residence where I can live within you in my Spirit form.  A living sacrifice.)

,,holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." (In other words, it's the least you can do--everything else is unreasonable and unacceptable.)

...And be not conformed to this world...(be different. Don't be shy about your faith.  Make a fool of yourself for Jesus--what do you have to lose.  Think about what others have to gain from what you know in your own life.)

...but be transformed by the renewing of your mind...(Get with it. Think things through.  Change.   Don't be stupid and miss the boat)

...that you may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.  (Did you already mess up the perfect part?  Did you already mess up the good part?  God doesn't give up on you.  There is the acceptable will of God.  Three levels of His will for your life.  Get on board with the will of God.)  

Pat and I drove to Blanchard yesterday to look at three schnauzer rescue dogs.  Family who had them couldn't keep them--nursing home or something?  They were all three litter mates.  We were checking them out for Becky.

Becky's dog Annie is blind, deaf, running into everything, has a bad heart and on expensive meds every day.   She isn't long for this world and is Becky is going to need another dog soon.  

Pat is the dog-finder.  She has supplied the entire family with dogs.  She has a unique ability to pick the correct personality for the specific person.  We call her the dog-whisperer.  Pat is always on the look out for me as well since Squig is getting up there in years.  Has to be a schnauzer.  They don't shed.

Anyway, two of the dogs weren't suitable.  Too needy.  Too feisty.  Too big.  But Pat fell in love with the third one.  And if you knew Pat, it was, "I'm taking this dog home with me."  And she wasn't even looking for a dog for herself.

So we drove back to Edmond with a new dog in the back seat.  The dog never made a sound.  Laid down in the car and was perfect. When she got to Becky's, Becky wanted him.  So did Pat.  We'll see who ends up with the dog.

I called Pat this morning and she was amazed at this dog.  She said, "I've been fostering dogs for years and years, but I've never seen one with such good manners in my life."  She'll probably let Becky have him...reluctantly.

I don't think you are the one who picks a dog out.  I think the dog picks you.  Becky and Pat decided to name him Oscar--it's still in doubt whether Pat is going to let Becky have him or not.  Either way, the dog lucked out.

Jeaninne came across the street to tell me how Dean's mother--who is 85 or so--was scammed.  Jeaninne wanted to be sure I had heard of the scam.

Dean's mom got a phone call from a (so-called) lawyer saying her grandson was in jail.  He had been in a wreck, the other person was badly hurt, her grandson was to blame, and they had thrown him in the slammer.  He needed her to send $8000.00 for bail.  Of course, it was a scam, but she fell for it.

She headed to her bank to make a loan and send the money.

Luckily, her son Dean called her bank, advised her banker of what was going on, and stopped the withdrawal.  His mother was hysterical, telling the banker and Dean that her grandson needed bail.  That he was counting on her.  She was crying and sobbing because she couldn't get the loan.

It took over an hour to get it straightened out--with the poor woman hysterical because they wouldn't give her the money.  Broken hearted that they wouldn't let her help someone she loved.

I can't help but wonder how many older people would fall for this.

You don't answer incoming unsolicited phone calls.  And besides, nobody legitimate asks for money over the phone.  And...just hang up and call your grandson!!  Find out the truth.

But maybe you have a grandmother or grandfather who is not "Up to date" on scams and how they pull them off.  It would be a good time to have a talk with them.

I found out why Squig was shivering.  He got a hair cut last Wednesday.  A summer cut--which means he was shaved on top and sides.  He was cold!!  I could have saved a ton of money by realizing that.  

I had put his electric lap blanket away since it is May. So I got it out of the closet, plugged it in, turned it on--and he curled up on it and was finally back to normal.  He's happy.  Next time, I'll figure it out before we go to the vet.

I do not like Zoom.  It's better than nothing, but not much better than a phone call.  Only advantage is that everyone is talking at the same time, or one at a time and you can see them.  I want to go back to real time.

I finally went to the grocery store.  Disinfectant in my pocket, mask on.  The thing that tempted me after 59 days of being house-bound, was turkey at Homeland for 49 cents a pound.  Iv'e got five.  I'm going to give them away to all the people who have been so nice to me and brought hot food for the last few weeks.

Every Wednesday, the Kerleys or I cook beans and cornbread.  She fries okra with hashbrowns.  Today, I am doing all of it.  Usually I just do one or the other, cornbread or beans.  However, it's more, more, more than my turn.

God plunked me down in Edmond on the most wonderful block in the city.  All of the people around me check on me.  Good neighbors are invaluable.

Jeaninne, across the street, calls and says, "Come through my side gate.  I've set up chairs in my back yard, 6 feet apart and we can sit and visit."  God is good.  About all I can do is be thankful.  I am.  Very thankful.

Squig went to the vet yesterday. $285.00 later, I found out that he is getting old.  I guess it is what he "didn't" have that was a relief.  Having been through a bout of Pancreatitis with him last year, I didn't want to go through that again.  That bout of sickness was over $800.00

He was a free dog.  He was given to me by someone who bought him from a high class breeder and then decided they couldn't deal with a puppy.  He is the most expensive free dog I have ever had.

I think I've told you that he is also the most religious dog in the world.  When he was a puppy, he ate the cover off my leather Bible and the first three to five chapters of the book of Genesis.  After he had eaten Ken's Sunday shoes.

I can see why the owners didn't want him.  But we eventually got all that straightened out and he has agreed to correct his behavior to meet my conditions for survival.

There are going to be dogs in heaven.  Jesus is coming back on a horse, so there are going to be animals.  The lion will lay down with the lamb.  And dozens of other scriptures that indicate that opinion.

So......maybe it doesn't specifically name dogs.  But I am confident they will be there.  Because you have to knowingly do wrong to be a sinner.  "To him who knows to do good and doesn't do it, to him it is sin."  James 4:17  And everything Squig does is good.......so, I think he will get a doggie pass.

I'm not sure that opinion is good theology, but maybe it will work for dogs.

I have talked to my brother every day for the last three weeks.  Writing about his life in fictional-fact form.  (Or factual-fiction?)  I haven't got much else done.  I've arrived at a point where I'm ready to talk about what his wife Janet did in China.  She spent two years there after college, before they got married.

She worked at the Baptist press in Hong Kong.  Her college major was art--and she applied her talents to redoing literature that had pictures of blond, blue eyed Americans.  Chinese, and many other Orientals usually have straight black hair, wear uniforms to school, use different utensils to eat--and a million other different characteristics that make up the pictures of the life of an Oriental.  

At that time, pictures in Christian publications had no representations of Asians.  She changed that.  I think that some of her art work is still used today.

One of the things about her--that I find fascinating--is that she was a strategy coordinator for much of the Baptist work in the South of  China.  Most evangelical main line churches in America would never have a woman in a position like that.   Bill did the medical end of the work in the Orient out of Macau and Hong Kong--sometimes consulting by computer--since many missionaries didn't have access to a local doctor.  He served not only Baptists but any other denomination that needed care.  

One of the things Baptists require, is that you must become fluent in the  language before they turn you loose to do anything else.  In their case, it took two years of language school.   Local Baptist churches donate to the convention and the convention funds a missionaries' salary.  They never have to worry about funding. They never have to come home and drum up financing.  It's a good system.  They don't have to interrupt their work.

Every now and then, I do a stupid.  Yesterday my shoulder hurt a little bit, and I remembered---ohhhh...I'm supposed to get that checked on every 6-8 weeks. Called the clinic, and last time I did it was October.  That's 28 weeks.  Not good.  They got  all excited.

Any time things change, I don't adjust.  My doc in Tulsa would call me.  Give me a print out.  Something.   They don't do that here.  They don't do anything.  You are on your own.  You would think that I would remember.  But I don't.  There are too many medical things to remember.
  
When I called the clinic, the lady who answered the phone said, "What year were you born?"  I told her and she said, "Oh my, we don't see many of those any more."  Duh.  She might as well have said, "You aren't dead yet?"

I am actually in fantastic shape.  God is good.  I can still make it around the block to walk Squig.  I can still lean over and put my hands flat on the floor.  My hearing is perfect.  My sight is fine--so I can read.  I don't have arthritis in my hands so I can type.  I just do what I'm supposed to do to take care of myself--until I forget something.  Any time I have a medical question, I call my brother.  

I began a new book last month on my brother's life.  So interesting.  He worked for NASA for awhile.  Assigned to one of the astronauts.  Went to Med school. China as a missionary.  I've talked to him more in the last month than I have in our entire lives.  My publisher has slowed down because the book stores aren't open.  It's driving me nuts, but until this pandemic is over, they aren't going to do anything with advertising.  The book is finished--ready to go to print.   All the while, the number I give the clinic for my age is growing rarer--and rarer.