It might very well be true.
The only problem is that big boy's toys tend to be fraught with complications. There are many times that I yearn for the simple days when I had the Jeep.
When I was six years old I was diagnosed with leukemia by two doctors. One of them predicted that I would never live to be twelve.
To make a long story short (which has never been one of my assets), I outlived both doctors....by an enormous amount of time.
To be brutally honest (which is one of my few assets), life would have been much more sweet if my existence had been extinguished before I was twelve.
Anyone who says that life gets better with age - or that you're only as old as you feel - is.....
sensitive people, please hold your ears
........full of shit.
But another birthday has arrived like a runaway train and I couldn't find a way to derail it.
As for my age - the less said about it the better. In the past, I used to lie about my age so outrageously that there were times when even I couldn't recall the genuine number.
Finally I gave up lying about my age and simply ignored it. I suppose that's the most painless ploy.
As my life tumbles towards the inevitable reward of oblivion, the years seem to pass more and more quickly - and my astonishment is replaced by frustration....and fury.
One day I'm a sweet, innocent, adorable babe in the woods - -
- - - and the next day I'm a grotesque, disgruntled, decrepit hermit in the woods - trying desperately to hang on to past bouquets, despite the growing influx of weeds.
Don't put too much analysis into this post. It's merely a jumble of fleeting thoughts.
Oh, by the way -
Happy Birthday to Susan, who shares my birthday...
....and to Geo. - who was born sometime in December...
