Neither a chewer nor a fly-catcher be

I am officially middle-aged. I went to Kaiser yesterday, and among the things they're trying on me to improve my sleep, they put me on blood-pressure medication. I'm actually a little surprised they hadn't done that earlier, since they've been yelling at me for several years that my blood pressure is a little high. Apparently this time it was quite high (145/110), which was probably because I practically ran up the stairs rather than take the elevator, because that was the first thing they wanted to do.

Either that, or they were worried my head would explode and make a huge mess in the exam room. In any case, I am now taking little tiny pills that are supposed to reduce my blood pressure. The down side of this, though, is that I may end up having to take them for years. Avoiding a stroke or something would be worth it, but if I start having to take too many more pills, I'll run out of space in the door pocket in the Volkswagen where I store them, and will have to get something else with bigger door pockets.

As a small celebration, today I went for what will probably be one of my last dishes of chicken rico at the place I go for lunch sometimes. It's basically pasta and chicken in a scampi sauce with a lot of cilantro, and it feels heavy, so I think I'll have to give it up. I can't even eat half a plate of it without feeling huge.

Of course, a lot of things are like that these days.

All I want to do is make it to 65 or 70 without dying too painfully, and I'll be perfectly OK with that. I have no particular interest in living to be 85 or 90... what the hell am I going to be able to enjoy?

Then again, few people are going to question an old coot who wants to drive his 50-year-old Saab Turbo at high rates of speed.

I've realized one thing I absolutely want to avoid when I'm older: I neither a chewer nor a fly-catcher be.

I guess I should explain.

Y'ever notice how there are two types of old guys who seem to have issues with their mouths?

Chewer: seems to be chewing, even if they have nothing in their mouths. I see them and wonder what the hell they're 'chewing' on, or whether their jaws are flexing just because they can't really control them any more. If you've never seen one of these, go rent The Grapes Of Wrath. Grampa Joad was a chewer. "I sure do like them spare-ribs..."

Fly-catcher: these guys walk around, or sit around, with their mouths partway open, as if they got partway into pronouncing the word "Alabama" and forgot what they were doing. It looks like they're trying to catch flies like some old iguana or something. These guys usually have golf hats on and their wives do not know how to drive.

I don't want to be either of these sorts of old guys. If you see me walking around 25 years from now with my mouth hanging open, feel free to toss coins or gum wrappers into the hole for points.