Happy Birthday to ME!

I became a full-fledged curmudgeon in about 1986 but had all the signs of that status well before then. Although I’ve been flirting with geezer and/or coot ever since, I don’t think I really fall into those categories quite yet (debatable, admittedly, but let us not go there).

I had a landmark birthday on October 21 (I was born in 1936—feel free to do the math or just ignore the reality the same way I plan on doing) and I really appreciate all the attention that was paid and want to thank everybody, publicly, for all the calls and cards and meals and the many assurances that I don’t look my age. I know, I know, age is just a number and you’re only as old as you feel and…well, you understand the patter; a sop to the obvious.

So we, the royal we, will now proceed into the NEXT decade and deal with what may come, whether wonderful, good, miserable or god-awful. Whatever happens, you may rest assured you can still count on me to be a royal pain in the ass.