It's the same every blog year. November 29th rolls around and the calendar says it's my birthday. But it can't be my birthday. The year I was born this man,
Abraham Lincoln Dwight D. Eisenhower, was president. Holy moley!
And I was in high school during the Nixon/Ford Republican years when the Draft kept us wondering if my brothers would wind up fighting on a foreign shore.
How has my non-birthday meandered into politics?
Doesn't it shroud everything these days?
At least that's the way it seems.
My non-birthday is a decade mark on the calendar for me and I must say that even though I feel almost as young as the still-uncolored bouncing curls on my brunette head, my mother confirmed that today is indeed the morn she birthed a tiny 5 lb. girl at 5:05 am who looked like a little squirrel in the palm of her hand with a head of dark hair.
Even though she called me a day early to wish me a happy birthday.
See....it's that age thing! She forgot her own daughter's birthday but "remembered it like it was yesterday." LOL I thanked her as if tomorrow had arrived. Did you get that, Bloggy People?
But let's look at the bright side. It's the year 2016. John F. Kennedy couldn't be further from the presidency in soooo many ways (nope, that wasn't the bright side) but the world still spins and I'm still alive in the year I turned something-something-something that shall not be revealed. It's really worse for Homer you know. I overheard him talking to his girlfriend last night. He said I "drove him battier than the Cubbies' dugout" on
I'm going to find some cake.
And a cliff.
Time for the next decade to begin.
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