I’ve arrived at a shocking realization: I’m going to be officially elderly on my next birthday. When I advertised for a Personal Care Attendant last month, several applicants emailed back saying they enjoy working with elderly people. At first their comments baffled me, since I no longer think of being 64 as the precipice of old age.
I mean, really! I blog and use social media. I read books on Kindle. How much cooler could I possibly get? And that wedding anniversary that John and I will celebrate two months from now will only be our 16th. Now I ask you, don’t I sound closer to 35 than 65? Thank you. I think so too!
Except that I blog and use social media because typing has gotten too strenuous for writing magazine articles, more less that autobiographical book that so many people throughout the years have told me I should write. I know I’m supposed to edit and revise blog posts like I used to edit and revise articles that I submitted to print publications back when I used an electric typewriter (some of you have probably never even heard of typewriters), but I don’t. I read books on Kindle only because I can no longer turn the pages of a physical book. And I had no viable opportunity for marriage (at least for a godly marriage) until I met John. Now I ask you, don’t I sound old?
Well, I guess I am old. And lately I’ve noticed that blogging daily has been growing more difficult. People don’t realize that typing with a headstick and Cerebral Palsy uses my entire body, not just my neck. Last night, after typing that 635-word blog post, I went to bed sore.
I haven’t been doing much digital art lately, as you’ve undoubtedly noticed by the graphics I use over and over to illustrate The Outspoken TULIP. I feel guilty about that, but blogging leaves me too tired to produce many new drawings. I rarely email friends, let alone write an actual letter. The Outspoken TULIP demands the bulk of my time and energy, causing me to ignore those other things.
I remember being 34 and writing counseling letters for work, plays for church, entries in my personal journal and 8-page letters to friends — all on (you guessed it) my typewriter. I’ll never be that productive again!
But I’m wondering whether or not blogging daily really honors the Lord. I take days off to go to Boston on dates with John, as I will to celebrate unFather’s Day tomorrow, but maybe I need days off to draw, write letters or even play solitaire. Who knows? I might even revise some blog posts before I publish them.