Flexible Fifties?

Flexible…this word has taken on a whole new meaning since I entered my 50’s.  I’m not looking to be a pretzel mind you, but sitting on the floor with my grand-daughter shouldn’t be paramount to a hike into the Grand Canyon!  Don’t even think about retrieving the cat toy behind the couch or crawling under the bed for that errant slipper…what do you think they make yardsticks for?  I have found some exercises to help me overcome my “senior moments”, but mornings are brutal. 

Flexible in my fifties isn’t just about the physical.  Keeping my mind from setting up like concrete is a continual challenge.  The invention of cell phones, passwords and PIN numbers are really baby boomer mind bending exercises.  How much more can you expect me to remember?  I’m starting a water exercise class next week (you can guess why) I’m supposed to bring a towel and a lock.  Lock? As in combination lock, because where would I put a key?  How will I remember a combination?  I can’t write it on my hand, it might come off in the water.  It’s high school nightmares all over again.

Flexible also applies to my calendar and the way I do things.  Changing plans is like having a tattoo removed.  Not being able to make plans is even worse…what happened to “going with the flow” or “rolling with the punches”?

 Flexible should come in a spray, kind of like Off.  When I’m feeling especially “bugged” about the need to be flexible I could pull out the can and spray down, being sure to get the back of my neck.  I’d make it smell a lot better though.