Friday, October 10, 2008
And another Christmas heads on over the horizon. Not in any way a white Christmas, and I actually did some Christmas shopping on my motorcycle a couple of days ago. Michigan weather continues to become weirder. I got to spend some time today with my daughter, and a nice sized portion of the weekend with my boys. I have an improperly functioning light saber I must return to Meijer sometime today. Very difficult to have the Force be with you if your light saber is not working as it should. My daughter presented me with a Mag flashlight, just the sort of thing you would expect from a young lady working at a hardware store. This baby would make a dandy weapon if I ever had a need to use it as one. It would certainly handle any light saber. The thing is at least eighteen inches long and is very solidly constructed. And American made, to boot. A real shame you cannot find a good, American made light saber here in Michigan; perhaps it would be unnecessary for me to have to run Barry's back to the store. My Christmas was quite festive this year. I whipped up my famous Chef Boyardee ravioli along with some stovetop stuffing for Christmas dinner, which delighted my sons, totally. No Christmas turkey for this crew, by golly. Rebecca demonstrated to me a digital memory device that hangs on your key chain and holds up to one gig of information, which is roughly equal to the capacity of my first PC. . .AFTER I upgraded it with a new hard drive. I was quite impressed, and proceeded to load the thing up with all kinds of photographs I have stored here on my current PC. I kept loading in photographs and waiting for it to say it was full, but it didn't happen. May have to get me one of those...
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Posted at 03:41 PM | (0) comments | Report abuse
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Friday, October 10, 2008
Here we go. According to the folks that make the laws in this nation I have another thirty five minutes to look someone in the eye and say the words "I am forty nine" without flinching when asked my age. According to my mother, I would really have fifty five minutes, as my actual time of birth was 12:20 AM on the eighth day of January , nineteen hundred and fifty seven. Either way I can count my time on this planet until I reach up to the half century mark in minutes. I am still not quite sure what I am to make of this, so I just may end up not making anything, other than an entry into this log. For the most part a birthday seems to be a bigger deal to the friends of the person celebrating the day than to that person. Of course, I guess that is all part of the fun. I try, and often fail, to remember the birth anniversaries of those close to me. While I do not believe I would lose any sleep if I didn't hear the words "Happy Birthday", it is always nice to know someone thinks enough of you to make note of a date simply because that day pertains to you. And, of course, there are the people that enjoy giving presents. I can almost hear Carly Simon singing 'Anticipation' whenever I have a present sitting on my lap waiting to be unwrapped. Sometimes I think that anticipation is the best part of the whole deal. At any rate, I am minutes away from the big five-oh, and I guess this is as good of a time as any to remind myself that fifty is only a number. Lately, however, I have found myself rather preoccupied with numbers these past few years, especially numbers concerning the sum of years in my life. Not too long ago the concept of becoming old suddenly didn't seem like such a terrible thing, after all. Very odd how your thinking on that matter can make a turn around when you believe you may not get old. I guess the part that matters to me the most here is the fact that I do not feel as if I have lived a half century, if there is really a way that is supposed to feel. In fact, I often believe, and behave, as if I am not any older than my young sons, and I definitely have notachieved the maturity of my twenty five year old daughter. I am going to be in rough shape the day those boys can outrun me. I should be grateful this body of mine functions as well as it does, especially as badly as I have treated it over the years. Okay, we are now right in between midnight and twenty after midnight. I think I am going to put on a jacket and go for a stroll. Perhaps spend some time thinking of the people that are responsible for giving me this life. Especially that woman whom always claimed twenty after midnight is the 'official' time of my birth. Perhaps while I am walking the angels will sing a chorus of Auld Lang Syne for me.
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