Okay, now I am ticked off. I just turned sixty, which officially makes me a geezer. These lines on my face are laugh lines, not wrinkles.

You know you are old when your back goes out more than you do. You can tell your age when your health insurance actually starts paying more than you have paid in.

You know you are a geezer when the twinkle in your eyes is the reflection of the sun off your bifocals. You know you are old when you do not care where your mate is going today as long as you do not have to tag along.

You have to feel your age when the flat top hair cut you had in your youth has actually come back into style along with the clothes you wore back then.

You really feel your age when your wife actually starts holding the door open for you because she gets to it quicker than you can. What is worse is you walk right through it without a hint of guilt.

Another thing that ticks me off is the fact that I have more hair in my ears than over my ears. And, sadly, I just read a medical study that suggests that your ears and your nose continue to grow as you grow older. I already had a pretty good head start on these respective body parts. I sort of wish there was something of a moratorium here.

I really felt my age the other day when I got down on the floor to play with my grandbabies, Ava and Ashley, but quickly learned that I could not get back up.

Geezers like me quit arguing over music; our big topic these days is our pension plans… or lack thereof. Conversations with your peers turn into dueling ailments as I recently learned when I gave a speech at a retirement community in Florida called The Villages. “Village People” do dueling ailments with the best of them. And, no, I am not really more patient these days; I just do not care anymore.

Life is weird for us geezers. We tip more and carry less. We read more and remember less. Younger people start asking your opinion about things… and then laugh at your opinion.

Maybe it is less of an age thing and more of a male/female thing. Men and women are so different in so many ways. Men are such simple creatures. Our brains look like series of little balls and each of these balls has its own contents … like our car or our house or our investments or our hobbies. And make no mistake; we do not mix the balls up because that is the only way we can keep them straight.

We have all these little spheres for a reason… we do not want them to touch! When a man discusses a particular subject, we go to that little sphere in our brain and pull out only what is in that little ball, careful to never open another ball or even touch another sphere.

Women’s brains, on the other hand, interconnect all these little spheres to one another and each is tied to a woman’s greatest strength- her amazing ability to never forget anything that has ever happened in her life- EVER! Everything is connected to everything else. Their brains are like high-test Google… the information super duper highway.

We men tend to use it and then lose it. Men do not have emotions; we just do not care.

Women, on the other hand, care about everything. Women file data away for future use and never hesitate to go to their superior recall function to point every single misdeed we have ever committed in our lives.

Men have a special sphere in our brains. It is, in fact, empty. There is nothing in this particular sphere. It is our little quiet place where we go to hide out. Men have the ability to think about absolutely nothing for hours on end… and still be alive and well. This drives women crazy. How can men be idle?

Women cannot stop mixing and mingling the spheres. They can not understand how we can be totally at peace with ourselves by doing absolutely nothing. For instance, they do not get how we can watch a NASCAR race or a football game. My wife is fond of saying, “Just read about it in the paper in the morning. All they are doing is turning left.”

To which I respond: Why not just go on-line to do your shopping instead of going into 37 different departments in 16 different stores for something you might purchase in the year of 2015? For women, shopping is about the thrill of the kill. Well… so is NASCAR and football.

Please, please, please… let us be in our moment of solitude. It is why we can go fishing for hours on end without a second thought. It is why we can stare at five sports channels without a hint of remorse or guilt.

The hardest thing for women to understand is the empty ball we have in our brain. That is our favorite sphere of all. It requires no thinking. It requires no decisions. It requires no effort. It is our blankie, as my beautiful granddaughter, Ashley might say. Leave us alone to suck our metaphorical thumbs and to rub our mental blankie.