"Can't tell if it's a good omen, or a bad omen, but there's a storm a-brewing." That's how my sister Betsy greeted me the next morning, along with a fresh mug of coffee.
"Well, good morning to you, too."
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I’m sixty-three years old and in unchartered territory on this day of my birth.
• Old enough for Social Security, not old enough for Medicare.
• Old enough to be called “retired,” not old enough to be considered “an elder.”
• Physically (i.e., how I feel) too old for the Iron Woman Triathalon, but not too old for Advanced Yoga.
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