This morning, I was driving to work in my blue, 350Z and feeling extremely cool. My husband recently bought a new stereo for it, making my delusions of coolness even grander. So, I'm driving along, listening to Eric Clapton, E C Was Here, which has been my favorite album since it was on vinyl, wearing my shades and just chillin', as only the very cool can do. When I started to notice other drivers watching me, I thought, wow, is it possible I look as cool as I feel? But just as my ego was swelling like a pregnant teen on a hot day, I realized I had just driven the last ten blocks with my left turn signal on. Oh no, I've become one of them! All I needed was blue hair and a Chihuahua, that calls me Mommy. Old age is Hell, isn't it?
 One of the young Hispanic girls at work was trying to identify a customer. She said, "You know her, right? She's an old white lady." I told her, I didn't know all the old white ladies, but we do have a secret hand shake.
  It's Friday night and you know what that means. It's time to take out my contacts, put on some elastic waist pants and have a little wine for my arthritis while I watch the Rangers game. Old age is kind of comfortable.