As my  birthday approached, I started to think about getting older. 

After all, I’ll turn FIFTY minus One (it sounds so much cooler than FORTY NINE) this year.

I was bopping around the Internet and I found this web site.  It’s called the  Living to 100 Life Expectancy Calculator.

You enter all your lifestyle and health characteristics (they don’t make you sign in or anything nasty like that) and through the magic of the Internet and modern medical statistics, it calculates your anticipated life expectancy. 

Here’s the description from the home page:

The Living to 100 Life Expectancy Calculator uses the most current and carefully researched medical and scientific data in order to estimate how old you will live to be. Most people score in their late eighties… how about you?

So, I took the test.  I even answered the questions honestly – no cheating, not even on my weight – and no, you will never learn that from my blog!

And my answer came back that even with ALL my bad habits, I should live to the age of 93! 

And if I do one little thing – floss my teeth every day – I can add another 1.5 years on to that.  (It’s really a net 1.35 extra years since if I floss every day for five minutes for the next 44 years, that uses up  .15 years.  I did the math.)

I guess my poor husband is going to be stuck with me for a a while. 

Oh, yeah, and bring on the lobsters with REAL melted butter AND chocolate cake with gooey icing for dessert.  It’s party time!

Maybe I’ll even go out and buy my PURPLE dress for the occasion. 

I already have the red shoes!

Thanks for stopping by for a little life story.  Stay tuned…

Joan Koerber-Walker

Author’s note: 

This poem, WARNING by Jennie Joseph has hung framed in our bedroom for 20 years.  I thought you might want to read  it and consider wearing purple occasionally too.

Warning – by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph