Who Can Really Say?

Today is my 50th birthday. Or to euphemize, it's the 21st anniversary of my 29th birthday.

Happy birthday to me
Now allow me this plea
Don't send anymore junk mail
From the A-A-R-P

Eh hem. Birthdays with an "0" on the end of them, from 30 through 60 at least, tend to get a lot of attention. "What's it feel like to be old?" -- you know, stuff like that. Once we reach 70 and beyond, I think everyone's just greatful you're not dead and that stuff stops. My response to those questions is always the same: I'd rather be alive and 50 than dead at a younger age. The way I see it, those are the two choices, right?

Last week, for reasons that had nothing to do with the birthday then on it's way, my mood went from bad to foul to worse, and the result (among other things) was no blogging. I'm looking to recharge over the long weekend and when I get back from a short trip, I'll maybe even have something to say about this.