It is said that my father accurately guessed the date of my birth. That wasn't exactly difficult to do. I have seven cousins on my father's side of the family and every one of them were born on either the 13th or 14th. On different months, of course.
This time around my birthday falls on Friday the 13th. A supposedly unlucky day - and an unnervingly accurate assessment of my entire life:
which has largely been one long consecutive series of disasters, mishaps, disillusion, mayhem, and misery.
Of course, I'm a devout pessimist.
The only good thing is that I'm a Sagittarius. Which means I'm multi-talented, intelligent, good-looking, fascinating, sexy, and intriguingly unique.
Of course, I made that up.
So, here's the Big Question:
How old am I?
Let's put it this way - it would probably take half a dozen birthday cakes to hold all the candles.
I'm way over fifty. That's all I'll say.
But, I want to deny the ugly rumor that my childhood photos were taken by Mathew Brady.
Think about that for awhile. It will eventually get funny.
By the way - a big happy birthday to Susan
who shares my birthday.