Elizaberrie= my mother’s nickname for me when I was good
And yes, I had a nickname for when I was bad too.
On the verge of 50, looking in the mirror and pleased, generally, with the aging process. Even if I didn’t like it, not much to do but go under the knife. And thank you, I am not ill and in need of surgery, just old.
It has been a long strange journey to be polite.