I don't want to talk about it.

Yesterday's post went over like a led balloon. Hey, you no like the Crusades?

Anyway, today's subject will be worse. It's something no one wants to talk about, young or old. Leave it be.

But it's on my mind, and this blog gets what's on my mind.

I can't believe how old I look in the mirror. I know, everyone says that when they get older, but still. I don't FEEL that old -- again, I know everyone says that.

(Younger people are scrambling for the exits, older people are rolling their eyes and hobbling toward the exits.)

But there it is.

I can't say I'm really prematurely gray, since I'm nearly 60. Linda (though older than me) has hardly any gray.

What brought this about was that I had let my hair get pretty long. So yesterday, I got it cut, thinking it would improve the old man look. But no, still looking old. (More a groomed gray, than a scruffy gray, and I'm feeling squared-away, as it were.)

It is what it is.

Ironically, I'm having burst of energy, because I've lost 14 pounds, and my clothes are fitting better. I'm trying to walk at least an extra hour every day. I'm letting myself have plenty of time off, and I'm sleeping good. Finances are better than I ever expected.

I've just read that people currently have about an 80% chance of getting to 66 or 67 retirement age. I'm assuming that Linda and I have higher odds since we're getting close. And then an average of 14 years beyond that.

So finances become a very big deal. When and if to retire. How much to put in until then. How much to take out after. All, very, very complicated.

Anyway, I don't even like to talk about it, but you know, it's the big fat, wrinkled elephant in the room.