Rated Mature:

If you have been keeping up with us, you know that we care for my mom who is 85years old. She has good days and not so good days, but we have come to recognize that if her spirit is light her emotional resilience is great.!!

My cousin keeps my mom laughing.  Laughter seems to lighten her spirits and becomes food for her soul. Last week we spent the afternoon laughing and listening to my cousin’s rendition on “getting older” from how she now dresses to forgetting little things to phantom farts.  I thought for this article I’d add some inspiration and brevity we all can relate to. “ Hey wait….what did I come in here for?” 

The Body Noises-:

You know you’re getting older when your body starts making noises just for existing. I mean the simple act of standing up now sounds like a haunted barn door opening. EhhhRRRGH. And that’s just your knees. Your back chimes in like, “Sit back down, Linda. That was your one move for the day.”

Plain old forgetfulness-:

And last Tuesday, it could’ve been Thursday, honestly, what is time anymore, I spent 15 minutes tearing the house apart looking for my glasses. I mean tossed sofa cushions, crawled under the bed, behind the bed, accused the dog of theft…

Only to find them…
ON. MY. HEAD. And then I had the audacity to be mad at myself.

And speaking of losing things…
Let’s talk about car keys.

Why is it that every “keyless entry” car still requires the key to be somewhere near the car… but not necessarily in your hand?

I once drove to the store with the keys in the fridge.
Don’t ask me how.
All I know is that somewhere between the milk and last week’s soup, my car keys decided it was nap time.

Now picture this:

You go to the store. Buy detergent. Walk out. Put it on the roof of the car because you’re juggling your purse, your receipt, and a half-crushed protein bar from 2014.

You get in, drive off…

…and a block later—BOOM—your detergent flies off the roof like a soap-scented rocket and explodes on the windshield of the guy behind you.

He’s waving his arms like, “YOU DROPPED YOUR ARM & HAMMER, LADY!!” And I’m trying to figure out if I can just pretend I’ve never seen this detergent in my life

Oh, but that’s not even the best one.

One time, I wrote a check to Verizon…
…and mailed it in the Geico return envelope.

I don’t know what happened. Somewhere between licking the flap and congratulating myself for not swallowing the pen cap, I apparently had a stroke.

And bless the poor mail clerk who had to open that like,
“Jim? Did Verizon acquire Geico overnight or is Barbara just time traveling again?”

The Passwords-:

And let’s not get started on passwords. Hoo boy.

Back in the day, your password was your dog’s name. Maybe a “123” if you were feeling wild.
Now? You need uppercase, lowercase, a symbol, a secret handshake, and the last four digits of your soul.

Logging into anything feels like defusing a bomb.

“Was it Spring$unshine99 or Spr!ng$unsh1ne99?”

Meanwhile, I’ve been locked out for three hours and somehow turned off my garage door from three states away.

Technology is not my friend anymore.

And text messages? Oh, autocorrect is a menace.
You try to send a sweet message like, “Hope your day is awesome!”
And autocorrect turns it into: “Hope your dad is a possum.”

That’s how rumors start.

The Food-:

And food. Oh, sweet lactose-free heavens.
You used to eat pizza at midnight, then jog a mile the next morning.

Now? You eat one slice of cheesecake and need to lie down like you just returned from war.

And spicy food?
Spicy food is now an Olympic event.
You take one bite and your stomach’s like,
“ARE YOU READY TO FIGHT, FOOL?”

Memory-:

Let’s not forget memory.

I now play a fun game called “Why Did I Come In Here?”

I’ll walk into a room with confidence and immediately forget why I’m there.
Just standing there… staring at the lamp like it might tell me.

Sometimes I’ll be holding something and have no idea why.

“Why am I holding this potato?”

And if someone interrupts you while you’re making a grocery list?
Forget it.

“Milk, eggs, paper towels, and—”
SQUIRREL!

The Phantom Farts-:

Oh! and you know what no one warns you about when you get older?

Surprise farts.

Oh yeah. I said it.

I call them “stealth toots.”
Because they sneak up on you like a ninja in orthopedic shoes.
You’re just sitting there, minding your own business, reading a recipe for gluten-free banana muffins, and suddenly—
pfft.

The tiniest sound… but the impact?

Emotionally devastating.

And they don’t come with any warning anymore. There’s no build-up, no tummy rumble, just:
“SURPRISE! Here’s your reminder that your pelvic floor has filed for retirement.” And let’s be real: we pretend like nothing happened.
But our dog knows who look at you like…”I heard that Linda”

The Family Dogs-:

And speaking of dogs…

Let me tell you about my dog.
She’s 14. Old, stubborn, dramatic—and honestly? She’s me in dog form.

First of all, this dog forgets everyone who lives in our house. Every day.
She’ll look at my husband like he just broke in.

And don’t let her hear the TV doorbell.

Oh yeah. That’s a whole other thing.

We’ll be watching a home renovation show, and suddenly the “ring” sound comes from the screen.
She FLIPS OUT like she’s in charge of border patrol.

Barking! Spinning in circles! Running to the front door like she’s auditioning for Dog Cops: Suburban K9 Unit.

And then… she just collapses.

Not like fainting from fear—oh no.
More like she used all her dramatic energy and decided,
“I’ve done my part. Time to lie dramatically on the tile and recharge.”

---

The Incident-:

But the worst—and I do mean the worst—was The Incident.
You’ll know it by that name. We all do.

So she’s in the bathroom with me. Because of course she is.
You reach a certain age, and dogs become your full-time emotional support squad.
She follows me everywhere. Shower, laundry, tax appointments.
Nothing is sacred.

Anyway, she’s squatting to pee on the pad. (I know—delightful visual, you’re welcome.)

And here comes the tiny male dog.
Much younger. Much shorter. Much too curious.

He scampers up behind her—tail wagging like a man on a mission—and starts sniffing where he absolutely should not be sniffing mid-stream.

And before any of us can say, “DON’T DO IT!”
She pees. Directly. On. His. Head.

Just straight-up, no regrets.
A full baptism in golden regret.

He stood there, stunned.
Like he had just been knighted by the Queen of Bad Decisions.

And we? We were traumatized…at first, before it became so funny our sides hurt.
My husband tried to grab him with a towel like he was a live grenade.
I was laughing so hard I nearly joined the old dog on the tile.

And to this day, if you say, “Don’t get too close,” the little one immediately backs up.
He learned his lesson.
Kind of. He still tries sometimes.
But you can see the hesitation in his eyes—like he’s reliving a war flashback from the wrong end of a fire hose.

---

The Takeaway

Aging isn’t about denying what’s changing—it’s about laughing while it happens.
Your pelvic floor may have retired, your joints may squeak like old floorboards, and your memory may occasionally take a coffee break…
but your sense of humor? That’s your secret superpower.

So, you know what?
I’ve decided to embrace it.
After all, every pfft is a sign you’re still alive, still digesting, and still fabulous.
These aren’t accidents—they’re mini-reminders of endurance.
Your body is saying, “I may be seasoned, but I still got gas in the tank!”

So, the next time a phantom fart visits uninvited, just smile and say,
“Ah yes—proof of life, and dinner well enjoyed.”

Because thriving after 60 isn’t about being perfect—
It’s about owning your noises with pride, grace, and maybe a good air freshener.

So instead of embarrassment, I’ve started adding it to my gratitude list.
Today’s entry: Still breathing. Still laughing. Still occasionally whistling from the wrong end.

Conclusion-:

So yeah.

You’ve got the surprise toots, the dramatic dog with TV-induced PTSD, and the small male dog with a… let’s say a unique kinky and no personal space boundaries.

This is life after 60.

Is it graceful?
No.

Is it a sitcom waiting to happen?
Absolutely.

You know what though? I wouldn’t trade it.

I mean, where else do you get this kind of entertainment for free?

We may forget why we walked into the kitchen…
…but we always remember how to laugh.

Even if it’s at ourselves.

Even if it’s because we wrote a check to Verizon and mailed it to Geico.
Even if our dog faints at the sound of a doorbell on HGTV.
Even if a phantom fart tests our dignity somewhere between aisle 7 and the checkout

…or we witness our little dog getting rained on by betrayal.

Humor is the magic of getting older:

You stop sweating the small stuff.
You start telling the best stories.
And you absolutely never trust a fart after lunch.

---