Birthday Ruminations

Yes, today's my birthday. I'm even more senior a citizen than I was last year at this time. Sigh. But at least I get discounts at lots of places.

We tend to think of major milestones in our lives in terms of decades … as the slogans would put it:
- Don’t trust anyone over 30;
- Life begins at 40; and,
- 60 is the new 50, among others.

But for a lot of reasons I’m feeling more reflective this year at 62 than I was at, say, 60. Partly it’s because I’m older and crankier and suffer fools a lot less gladly, partly it’s because a lot of things happened in the past year. There were good things:

- My beloved first grandchild Marcy became a teenager (!) … there's a beautiful and talented young woman where this little baby used to be ...

- My beautiful granddaughter Leya started first grade ...

- Agnes continued to grit her teeth and put up with me*;

- I remained employed (knock on wood); and,

- I remained healthy (keep knocking on that wood).

There were sad things, like Agnes’s mom passing away while we were in Germany during the summer.

And there were bad things:

- The dirtiest and most unsatisfying election in a long time here in Virginia offered me the opportunity to vote not for the best candidate, but for the one I disliked the least;

- My elected reprehensives showed themselves to be spineless ass clowns who would rather shut down the government in fits of righteous, arrogant pique than do the tough job of solving the nation's problems; and worst of all,

- A person I loved and trusted and thought I knew turned out to be a conniving, greedy, self-centered assweasel**.

So I am celebrating my 62nd birthday with a mixture of joy at all the good things and grouchiness at all the other stuff. Which is probably normal, I guess.

And I thank you from the bottom of my heart***, Dear Readers, for coming back day after day to listen to my musings. You are one of the best birthday gifts I could want!

Have a good day. Age happily ... the alternative is worse.

More thoughts coming.

Bilbo

* Mostly because I can chop onions, kill bugs, and get things down from shelves she can't reach.

** Yes, an assweasel is much worse than an ass clown.

*** And the top and middle, too.