It's birthday weekend. And it's not just any birthday weekend: I turn 40 on Monday.
I read once that you spend the first 40 years of your life developing the virtues and habits that will control the next 40 years of your life. If that's the case, things aren't looking too good for me. No one's going to be calling me "Blessed" or even "Venerable" after I die. I might get "Good Dude," but that's about it. If all seven of my kids turn out well, I'll get "Good Father," which would be worth all the sweat and toil, but that's probably the highest aspiration I can reach for at this point.
Anyway, I started the birthday weekend celebration early with a spur-of-the-moment trip to the W, where I met a few friends for a few beers, then I went home to find my house's windows desecrated with reminders of my pending middle-agedness. After eating cheese pizza, my wife and I went to the drinking club, which was hopping with crooner music and a wine-and-cheese-tasting party (I drank beer, but ate cheese). We hung out there for a few hours, came home early (9:00), talked with the children for about thirty minutes, then retired.
This post is delayed because I had to take my 12-year-old to school for a band competition. I dropped him off at 6:30 this morning. He jumped out of the van, I yelled "band queer!" at him as the van door shut (just kiddin'), then went to McDonald's to grab a few greasy breakfast burritos (good for an upset stomach). Now I'm back home, writing this while my five-year-old daughter sits on my lap (Meg isn't the most-affectionate child, so I have to take these displays when I can get them).
There should be a decent amount of blogging today. My wife is leaving with the baby, so I won't be able to get any serious reading or writing done, which is a good formula for blogging: a desire to write, but not much time to do it. Long-time readers will recall that I started this blog because my life fits that formula perfectly.
Speaking of which, the two-year-old just wandered into my study. It's time to stop blogging.
