There’s just something about birthday cake that makes one feel old. And fat, too. But at least it’s something that tastes good. What if birthday liver had been the tradition all along? I think I’d have quit having birthdays long ago, if that was the case.
Anyhow, Father Time caught up with me again this week, for the 59th time. You’d think I could find a decent hiding place after this many years. Maybe I just need to get some faster running shoes so I can stay ahead of him, as the Grim Reaper and he are suddenly starting to favor each other!
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