Yes, the day has come.
I am 53 years old today.
Let me see, 53 years old ... that means I was born way back in 1957. I was the first child born to Phyllis and Carl and after me, against the belief of many people (my mother told me so), they had another child, my sister Gail, two and a half years later.
I am sure we both aged our parents plenty, but gave them lots of joy too.
But back to me (since it is MY day) ...
I feel good for my age, not that 53 is really old anymore. I certainly feel better than I did two years ago to the day, when I had my gall bladder removed. I never felt so sick in my entire life as I did on that day. Since the operation, I have had some bad health days, but nothing terrible like that.
I feel pretty good, to be honest with you.
I never got into the vices of smoking and drinking ... I don't do either.
My vice, if I have one, is cookies. If you put a package of Oreos in front of me and dared me to eat them, I know that I would--the entire bag.
I have no idea what I am getting from my family this year for my birthday. I am sure it will be a few DVDs, maybe a little cash.
That's fine. At this point in time, I look forward to the cards as much as the gifts.
People have asked me what I am doing for my birthday. Well I can tell you that pretty easily:
I'm working.
Yes, I am going into work today. It's no different than any other Wednesday on the calendar. I will put my nose to the grindstone and work, work, and work some more.
I would prefer not to, but what's a poor boy (literally) to do?
So happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Larry, happy birthday to me!
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