Sixty And Counting


Well the big day has come and gone. I would like to be able to say that I am none the worse for wear, but that isn’t true. I believe that yesterday was one of the more crappy days I’ve had in a while. Sixty. Who’d of thunk it? Certainly not me. Every time I glanced at my birthday cards setting on the table, the 60 would pop out at me and make me feel like hey, look at the old lady! I felt really old and really depressed. Maybe it was just the let down from all the partying on Saturday.

My cousin Mary had a wonderful dinner party for me and all my family was there to help me celebrate. The beer wagon had rolled in and of course I had a few. (Brain cells be damned.) At least no one wore black arm bands. I took a few shots from the younger generation, but in good humor for the most part. The food was delicious and a good time was had by all.

For the life of me I don’t know where my philosophy went that age is only a number. It works great if you’re talking about someone else. I think it’s the old, I’m not going to live forever and the fact that we are celebrating it scares the hell out of me.

But it was a good excuse for all of us to get together and drink a little beer and have a lot of fun. God has been very good to me and I pray he lets me keep my sense of humor for the next twenty years or so, ‘cuz if not it’s going to be a real drag.

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