Well, y'all.  Today is my 43rd birthday.  Or, if my mother's voicemail was accurate, my 44th birthday.  Hint.  It was not accurate.  I'm 43.  It's fine.  Either way.

I took the day off, which was awesome.  I slept in just a little, then made my way south of town.  I had a long massage.  Deep tissue.  I feel loose and bendy.  It's all good.

I did some shoe shopping then met my friend Jim at Pei Wei for lunch. My fortune said something about my quick and decisive actions (in bed).

After lunch, I did a little hunting/gathering of the retail variety, then picked up some stuff for dinner and came home.  Tonight is hockey, then sleep. 

I don't feel 43.  I don't know what I feel.  So maybe I do feel 43.  Yesterday at work, a 27 year old asked me how my 40s were.  Were?  Well, they started strong and will continue strong for another seven years.

I get it though. At her age, she has no idea what 43 looks like.  Hell, me either.

It looks kind of like this:

Cards from Jim (L) and Matt (R).  Flowers from Mom (center). 

That's it and that's all, y'all.



Forties feel like my twenties, only in my twenties I still had tolerance for morons. Nowadays mentally I'm an old curmudgeon.