I walk into a grocery store on a summer afternoon. I’m hot, tired and uncomfortable, no makeup, hair hastily pulled back in a clip. I’ve heard that’s what you get to do after you hit 60, and I have to tell you that I’m working it. Just on principle. I’m pushing my cart down the aisle trying to figure out what to make for dinner that will be tasty and nutritious and low sodium when a kid with dreads and ear buds comes tearing around the corner and narrowly misses me with his