Ah, birthdays... Nothing like a yearly knock-knock from Father Time, just to let you know that your room is ready. A couple weeks ago I turned 31, and oddly enough I am having a much harder time with that than 30. Not sure exactly why, it's just vaguely depressing for no apparent reason. The fact that I am still getting carded by bouncers and called "sugar" by waitresses ten years my junior is somewhat encouraging, once I get over the fact that it's also really annoying. It's especially nice when they look at my I.D., do a double take, and say something like "Wow! You're old!" Oh well. Out of the mouths of babes, or whatever.
This year's birthday was rather uneventful. I was mostly dead for a couple of weeks with yet another bout of what I have dubbed "The Cuban Super Flu". I got on the boat, zonked out, got off the boat, zonked out. That was pretty much the extent of it. I did have the opportunity to celebrate early with my parents and sister in Atlanta, so that was nice. They gifted me with a Bluetooth earpiece for my cell phone so I can stop driving down U.S. 1 with one hand. This is quite appropriate, since I am usually talking to them at the time. I also had a nice dinner date with hubby the next week at Bahama Breeze, one of my favorites. He went a little overboard with the gifts, but I will not complain. I have added to both my gun and power tool collections. Sweet.
Today was mostly uneventful. I finally got out there this afternoon and scrubbed a boat, which was a nice change. If only I'd had a radio - some tunes would have been perfect. No doubt the sandpipers are out there pooping on it as I type, but at least I made the effort. Tomorrow morning we will see just how much my back appreciated that little stint of manual labor.
Thought for the day: "Ships are the nearest things to dreams that hands have ever made, for deep within their oaken hearts the soul of a song is laid."
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