How old are YOU?

Courtesy dictates that people do not ask a woman how old she is.  But still the question comes up on forms and applications, and occasionally, from the socially awkward.

And in those cases, the question always means, what is the chronological time you have spent on this earth?  Since I was born in 1954, my chronological age is 56.

But if instead the question was, How old do you feel?  Well, then the answer would depend on what day, and what time of day, the question was asked.

Some mornings, when I roll out of bed, my muscles stiff and sore from working out or gardening, my hands stiff and swollen from who knows what, I feel - 90, worn out and worn down.

When the dog and I chase each other around the yard, with me breathless from laughing, I feel - 10, young and carefree in the barefoot days of summer.

When I walk into a room full of people I don't know, I feel - 13, walking into junior high on the first day of school.

When I solve a difficult problem at work, I feel - 20, grown-up but idealistic, ready to conquer the world.

When I successfully cope with a household crisis or handyman emergency, I feel - 30, experienced, capable, confident.

Only rarely to I remember that I am 56.  That usually happens after I realize that 2012 with be my 40th high school reunion.  Or that my quiz book was published 32 years ago.  It is hard to keep thinking of yourself as 25 when those facts pop up.

So how old do I feel?

I feel ageless.

Too Many Choices

There are too many choices available to us. The sheer number can be paralyzing, preventing us from doing anything.

I go to the store for bread. There are at least 50 types of bread to choose from. There is one I always buy, but can I truly call it my favorite if I haven't tried all the others? Are there really that many different ways to make a loaf of wheat bread?

Some choices have consequences. I chose not to go to college. Therefore, I can not apply for any jobs where a degree is required. I chose to buy a house in the suburbs and must deal with the commute to my job. Or I can choose to look for another job closer to home. Another choice.

How do we know whether we made the right choice? We don't. We can't know the results of the path not taken. Thus the paralysis, the fear of making the wrong choice.

The other day I had a block of hours available. I wanted to read a magazine, read a book, watch a movie, and work on my hobby. How to choose the right thing to do?

I took a nap.