Well, it’s begun. My handsome, fit 25 year old son has had just about enough of me. He moved in with me last September at the behest of his siblings because I’d developed a frequent hospitalization habit fueled by diabetes, obesity and a buffet of other disorders. Charged with the task of creating change in my diet and exercise—to no avail, he refused to concede that his purpose had been reduced to just watching me die slowly under the same roof, far enough for privacy, near enough to someday phone the coroner before I start to smell. So following a heart to heart yesterday, we began a home workout routine today at 11am. It was a grueling 20 minutes that left my legs and arms limp and shaky but put my head back in the game of living my best life for my remaining years. I’ll let you know how it’s going along the way. Your thoughts, prayers and energy might be timely in the coming weeks. I’m a pro at making excuses.