When did I become a "geezer"???

Hello again!  After taking a much needed hiatus from my stressful writing life...(yes, I am being very sarcastic)...ok, seriously, I do not have an excuse for not writing in the blog since my son has made many humorous comments, caused me to lose more hair, and given me enough material to write a novel that would give War and Peace a run for its money in the past two weeks, other than...well, I don't have an excuse; period.

I could say that time has flown by so fast that I didn't realize two weeks have past...but that would only solidify my son's comments.  I could say that I haven't had time because I have been working on the house and couldn't do two things at once...or take a break from one to do the other because it would throw off my rhythm...but that would only further the inevitable solidification of my son's comments.  So, I won't say anything at all...except to my many (all 3 - but growing!) followers, I apologize for the delay. 

So, when, exactly, did I become a geezer?  Yes, my son calls ME a geezer.  The last time I checked, a geezer is someone who is slow moving, old, and unable to do the things he once was able to do with ease.  According to the dictionary, a geezer is an old person, especially an eccentric old man. 

Am I old?  NO!  Am I eccentric?  ummm...no...well, not really...ok, maybe a little bit.  But I am not OLD!  Well, maybe I am older than my son, but I am younger than a lot of other people in his life.  So, based on this technicality, I am not a geezer.

Of course, when I was his age, I thought 18 was the age I would become an adult, 20 was old, 30 was soooo far away, and 40 would never come.  Forget the rest, since I was unable to process that far in advance at such a tender young age.  Now, at nearly the youthful spring chicken age of 40, I look back and think, wow, I really didn't know too much at 10.  At 20, I realized my parents were right some, ok, most of the time...30 was just the beginning of my life, and at 40, I'm still learning what it means to be alive and looking forward to what the next 40 years have in store!  What scares me the most, though, is trying to figure out at what age my next epiphany comes...and what it will bring.  

So, as I take a bite of my humble pie, I have to say, yes, perhaps I am a geezer...but only to my son...well, and his friends...and probably a few other kids.  Ok, we will just stop that nonsense right there. 

However...I refuse to say, admit, claim, that I am old.  I can still (with a bad knee, too!) whip his butt in a foot race, overpower him in an arm wrestling contest (left OR right handed), outsmart him (most of the time) in a battle of wits, throw a ball (any) farther then he can, and best of all, I can still command complete control of the remote!  Ha!  So, there, you young whipper snapper, how do you like them apples?  ...geezer?...I think not!  Now, what was I going to write about?

Hey!  Who's that geezer with the bald/gray hair dancing with my wife?