Old Sisters and Aging

The youngest of my three older sisters- here after to be referred to as my Old sister, Older sister, and Oldest sister- was up to on assignment, and felt it was time to celebrate my 50th.

I was "pleased."

I have spent much time and effort to ensure that, in the words of the great philosopher Red Green, "If you can't keep from getting older, you can still be immature." As would be expected, physical reminders of my impending plunge in the the second half of my first century are less than welcome.

I can't complain really. I recieved some great gifts. Books- expensive stuff when you consider the cost of shipping, boardgames- just what a hypercompetitive person needs to ensure solitude once the first game is over, and three bags of "Tim Hortons" coffee!

You can keep your coke, smack, and crystal meth. They don't do a thing for me, but give me an extra large double, double and you have one hyperactive, 275 lb. (125 kg- there are times when I love metric) fur ball!

I spent most of last night crouched in front of my FCC's face, eyes wide open, saying "You awake yet? You awake yet? You awake yet?"

For a generally mild manner person, FCC has a wicked left hook.

Now that I have come to, I have to stick my face in some snow to cut down on the swelling.

Later, mushers!