20 September 2012


Another birthday. Someone is another year older and finds himself one year closer to death (I kid).  Yep, it's my birthday. Based on the average life expectancy of an American male (76 years), I am solidly middle-aged and, having crested the halfway hump, am on the downward slog to the end.  Good times ahead is all I can say.

I realized today, on this auspicious anniversary of my birth, that I have now spent more than half my life with the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML.  Do you know what a good thing that is?  It is a very good thing. I can't imagine celebrating this day with anyone else.

I've hardly had time to wax philosophical or contemplate what it means to be another year older.  I don't older.  I rarely do.  No self-respecting 46 year old should laugh as hard as I do watching "Dodgeball." Seeing that kid getting nailed in the face by a wrench never get old.  Never. Ever.

So I'm one year older.  Hoping that I'm getting better with age.  I sure hope so.

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