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Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Hey, Guess What ...

It's my birthday.

I am turning 39 years old or, as I have been saying lately to my employees, I am turning Older Than You'd Expect.

Not an outright special day, though. The District Manager is coming for what annoyingly seems to be his monthly inspection so it's balls out crazy ass stressful at work. They need me today, birthday or no birthday.


Happy birthday to me.

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Getting Older ...

I want to start out by saying that women age differently than men. It's unfair and I'm sorry about that.

But, honestly, when I was younger I feared growing older. In fact, being real honest here, I never thought I'd live past thirty. I figured, me being me, that I would be killed or that I'd die in some accident. My older brother felt the same way too independently of me and my feelings. We never thought it would happen, the grey hair and the wrinkles and the big bellies. I never thought I'd get there. When you're young, being old seems so far away.

But, And I mean this with all seriousness, I think I'm somehow getting more handsome the more I age. Hell, Rob Lowe in his fifties look a million times more attractive than he did when he was in his twenties. He looked like a douchebag in the Wayne's World movie. And look at him now. He looks like he aged well, gracefully. You can see his life in his face, his hardships.

And me? I look alright. I think I'm pretty fairly handsome. Ish.

I like how I look. It's odd, right?

Anyways, I'm getting old. I can see it. I can feel it in everything I do.

And I like it.

Anyway. Age. It's strange. My knees pop. Like Rice Krispies. I have rare random back spasms. There are bags around my eyes that weren't there before. I have a belly now. That's been the hardest to admit to. I was always hideously underweight and I think a little proud of it, so it's hard to look down for me and see a belly. But it's there. My hair doesn't grow back as quick as it used to.

I'm getting older.

But there's good things, too. I have white hairs now. Each one I feel proud of, as if I have fought hard to earn each white hair. In fact, I want more. I want that Mr. Fantastic things, a Fantastic Four look. I want to look distinguished. I'm also stronger, both physically and emotionally. I survived a robbery at gunpoint, I survived living in California, and now my managerial job consists of lifting 30 to 50 lb. boxes all day, which I can somehow do without breaking a sweat or being attached to my inhaler 24-7.

Being older is pretty damn awesome.

The best part of getting older is seeing my kids growing up.

Maxwell will be going to school soon. Sigh. I will miss spending my day with him.

Isabela is having the same problems with math that I had when I was her age. Her sister just gave her "the talk" about what to be prepared for when she "becomes a woman" and all that business I am in no way qualified to discuss with an embarrassed ten year old girl.


I told my wife yesterday, you know, you look pretty gorgeous for a woman old enough to have a daughter with a job. And she just laughed.

We're growing older. Older and happier.

Wind Clan out.