38th Parallel

I'm officially 38. Deb and I went out for my obligatory "free" steak dinner and meringue-covered flaming brownie on the 5th, and also went to church. Why? To vote, of course. (Yes, I voted for Ron Paul. No, I don't agree with him on everything. I just agree with him on the things that matter most to me. So there.)

This is one of the reasons why I know I'm spiraling towards 40. I'm talking politics. Add the grey hairs, and the dull ache that's been in my knee for two days now, and I'm a regular crotchety old man. If I had a lawn, I'd be yelling at the kids to stay the hell off of it. Then again, since it's Arizona, if I had a lawn I'd be knocking the little bastards into the cacti. (cactuses. cactoozles.)

The birthday festivities will consist of leftovers, work, and a heating pad and/or ice on my knee. If I can keep the face-to-face human contact down to just my wife, it'll be the best birthday ever.