Ten years ago today, I weighed 285 and had a lean body weight of about 185; I demonstrated an ability to do a one handed push up with either hand. Today, the numbers are more like 300 and 175, and even if my damaged shoulders would tolerate such foolishness (and they won't) I just don't have the pecs for it any more (though the triceps have held up fairly well...).
Ten years ago today, my parents, siblings and spouses, and miscellaneous hangers on gathered for a fairly informal party at my parents house. Today, the house has been sold, my mother only remembers our names on good days, and Dementia and I are going to mark the occasion by ordering carry-out pizza mid-week.
Getting older is preferable to the most common alternative, but they are BOTH bad choices, and more than ever, it is a REALLY bad idea to ask me just what I would be willing to do in the name of corporeal immortality.
Ten years ago today, I was married to Dementia, and convinced that on that front at least, I had drawn three cards to a Royal Flush. Today, nothing has changed.
I cross post this journal in five places; there might be as many as a hundred people who will see it today, or in the next few days. Of them, ten years ago I knew... Rev. Bob; Lisa; Steve; Alex; Nikki; Tim and Beth and Katie. All of the rest of you are more recent acquisitions, and I can not begin to express my gratitude.
Mal: We're still flying.
Simon: That's not much.
Mal: It's enough.
(And best wishes to Celelorial, who shares the day.)