Thirty. And Counting.

Thank You, Joan Everds,.Coronado, CA
www.everds.com

I just turned 30 today. Does that mean I’m old? Or does it imply that I can buy a smoking jacket, sit around in a circle with men and smoke cigars discussing football strategy? It might just have a connotation to the effect that I need reconstructive surgery for my jowls so that I can cleverly conceal my crooked smile. I need to get a golf set, a plaid sports jacket, a deerstalker, an old gramophone, a lazyboy and gray flip flops with little cotton toes. I gotta start wearing pajamas that are secured using nylon threads and invest in property in Florida. This day has been just another battle at work, a lot of good wishes from family, friends, colleagues and short-lived positive vibes from beautiful women who are otherwise as intangible as dolphins at Seaworld. It definitely consisted of an arguably enlightening conversation with my mechanic about transmission issues with my car and a good natured call from the credit card company stating my bills are due. Have a great birthday! The gas company may have promised me three units of free gas but I’ll still want my eggs over easy. I did spend an eventful morning speculating how to generate balmy lineweights on my project which are pleasant enough for consultants to reinvent the polka.

After all coordinating a project is not only about buying onion bagels each morning and skillfully applying cream cheese so that all worksets are current and modifications reloaded, which will ascertain me being born again as a wealthy, rich nobleman in some remote English village. Suddenly Cooke County sounds like such a nice place to move to. I could lie in the sun, drink wine, eat cheese and talk with my mouth full. I’m still a bachelor and this morning’s news forecaster announced that there’s hope for me as long as an albatross finds its way into Walmart and asks for directions. The hormonal changes have been quite vociferous in stating their claim too. I’ve developed a strange liking for post it notes and rearranging groceries in patterns inspired by crop circles. It’s called impalpable confidence and a lingering sense of trust that peppermint manufacturers display when deploying a new product. My friends have started associating my handle with the respectable title of ‘old man’. I need to have my prostate examined and the reports sent over to a top detective agency. Crime is low these days. So, is my ability to harness logic and make it stay on course while my mind displays the homing capability of a headless chicken drunk on vodka & milk. So long suckers, the party has just begun!