I've been feeling my age lately, having trouble with my shoulders, one of which has an "impinged" muscle. I've been at physical therapy and it will get better. But in the meantime, I decided since I'm rapidly becoming "elderly" I'll have fun with it.

For example, Paul wanted to know what time he'd be leaving with Mike to go to the 4-H Shooting Sports (despite the fact he has his license, he's still not supposed to go to non-school/farm stuff without a licensed driver).

In any event, I told him "half-past."
"Half past what?"
"Half past the hour."
He still didn't get it.

Last night, there was a reception for a visiting writer, Philip Meyer, at the house of a professor Dan Hoyt, and his (and I mean this) lovely wife, Sarah. They have a craftsman style home in Manhattan. Nice house. I was standing and talking to a couple of younger graduate students, and there's a little telephone niche in the wall right outside the bedroom. On impulse, I asked "What's this for?" NO ONE KNEW. I had to explain the concept of a stationary phone, hooked to the telephone line with a wire.

This elderly stuff might be fun.