Today is my birthday. When you get up around my age, birthdays tend to come a lot faster than they used to. I have noticed that I'm looking a bit older these days, but I'm happy that I'm aging like Sean Connery. I seem to have accumulated some knowledge about women, too. In high school I was a nerd. I was the only one who went on the obligatory trip to Mexico and couldn't find a date down there, and I HAD the five dollars. Now THAT'S a nerd, folks!
I had an interesting chat with my granddaughter, Puck, yesterday. She's seven, and I told her today was my birthday. She asked me if I was going to die. Now, you first reaction to a question like that from a child is to wonder what she sees that you don't. Then you find yourself staring into the mirror for the longest time while you brush your teeth. And about that, how did I end up with "old guy" mouth? My teeth are all healthy, but just old!
Anyway, Puck told me she loved me. Then she said that if I was to go ahead and kick the bucket today she wanted to have me cremated so I could be with her always. As an added feature she would give a scoop of me to her four little brothers so I could be with THEM, too. I feel it's only fair too mention Puck's real name is Carrie.
I used to be a good Catholic, but as I learned more about women I strayed from the party line a bit. You know you're over the hill when you can legally date a woman who was born after you got your first divorce. One thing I've learned about young women is they can't drink, and that flaw has served me well over the last few years. (Lord, I'm sorry I did that, I'll try not to do that in the future.) One girl I'd like to get drunk is Wendy Davis. I mean, with her views on abortion you KNOW what she likes to do, right?
About the only thing of historical significance that ever happened on my birthday until 2001 was Patton disobeying orders, invading Germany ANYWAY, and sending a picture to Omar Bradley, taken from behind, of him pee peeing in the Rhine. There was some saint who's feast day was my birthday. He had a limp like me, but never really did anything. Guess he was a nerd, too. My birthday is starting to be called, "Freedom Day," which, after four divorces I can totally relate to.
My physical, and lab work came in last week and I'm fit as a fiddle. In former days, I would rise in the morning and say an "Our Father," maybe throw in a few "Hail Mary's," for good measure, and charge into the morning. These days I sit on the edge of the bed, wish my shoes weren't so far away, and just say, "DAMN!" My memory is intact. (DAMN!)
I detest birthday parties, but a few gifts drifted in. One was a box of Oliva cigars. I got a thirty pack of beer to go with them. Frenchi sent me a note saying good things come to those who wait. I'm so glad she's of age! There was no cake. (I hate cake!) About the most exciting thing coming up this week is the arrival of a cold front on Friday, and if you're a Texan you can appreciate that. I ran out of Aleve, and I need to address that situation, but I'm regular, and that's always nice.
I remember my old business partner, W C Dorrill, who died at eighty-nine or so. If there was ever a type number one capitalist it was him. When I asked him how he viewed getting so old he said, "I wake up each day, reach for the paper, look at the obituaries, and if I don't see my name, I get up!
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