Flossmore

Oh no, another one of my friends is moving to what my brother refers to as "Flossmore." It's the place we go to in this area when we get to be over 55 and start simplifying our lives. We move out of the homes where we raised our family into these gated adult communities so we are safe.

We go there so we can mingle with others our age. We move there to join in on age appropriate community activities.

We leave behind playground sounds to hear the golfers chorus of "fores" and daily rounds of ambulances.

We give up hunting deer to sit back and watch for the new Bambi's.

We trade our jogging shoes for hiking boots, our backpacks for totebags.

We use our binoculars for bird watching rather than scoping out the next mountain vistas.

The speedo swimsuits are replaced by body camoflouging skirted tankinis or trunks. A parade of high fashion swim coverups topped with rubber flowered swimming caps leads us to new ways to workout from swimming to dancing in the water. And when winter comes we don our flannel sweatsuits and parade around the gymnasium or aerobicize in wheelchairs.

We play bocce ball instead of bowling.

We plant pots of annual flowers in case we don't last another season.

We ride camel busses instead of Bart. We give up our cars and hail taxis or medi-transports.

We know when company is coming cause they can't get by the gatekeepers without our permission. We send the grandchildren home after 3 days to follow the rules (well that might be a positive).

To think, in just one more year and I'll be eligible to move to God's waiting room.