Disclaimer: I am 2 bourbons and a large margarita in
Disclaimer 2: I pour bourbon at home 3:1
I turned 46 years old today. It was the best birthday I can remember in a long time. I can say that now because I can actually still remember today. Tomorrow may be another story.
45 sucked ass. I made my birthday plans in July of the previous year feeling a strong pull towards a milestone birthday. I’d worked hard on my body and fitness since He Who Should Not Be Named But Kissed Lots showed up. So in an effort to prove something to myself and kick off the second half, I planned an epic ski trip. I envisioned testing my mettle on Mammoth’s treacherous backside, proving not only that I’ve still got it, but that I’ve gotten more of it than ever.
And then the fucking blizzard of the fucking century blew in. And I skied a ½ day of a four day vacation. And I drank. And I cried.
What I didn’t realize then was that 45 was actually the end of the first half. Time to retreat to the locker room for review and strategy. 46 is actually the milestone. 46 is the beginning of the second half and I’m up by a lot; a whole 46 years of life experience, good and bad (but not terrible) and I am a fucking force to be reckoned with.
46 is rad. At 45 you’re so much older than those goddam 40 year olds. But at 46! At 46, you’re so much younger than 50 year olds!
So today I had a pretty typical day but the sun was shining and I was so grateful for my health, my strength and the love in my life. I bill myself as an antisocial curmudgeon. But the truth is I just have a very discerning palate. Perhaps not my most lovable quality, but I put up a stone cold front. All of you within reach of this manifesto have worn down my edge and brought magic into my life. You have taught me things, made me laugh, challenged me to continue to grow.
Today I heard from friends all over, not acquaintances, but people that know the real raw me. And yet you are still willing to love me. You wished me a happy birthday. It came true. Thank you for your love and friendship.
It’s time to closeout with a nightcap. Bourbon #3 (9?) is calling. Cereal and school lunch for everyone tomorrow!