The Unwelcome Birthday


Last Thursday I turned 60. Emotionally it wasn't a pretty thing. And if one more person tells me that 60 is the new 40, I'm going to scream!

I resisted the urge to get drunk. Unfortunately, that's a consequence of being older and a little wiser. Getting drunk doesn't help a thing and adds physical debilitation to the problem.

What is comes right down to is this - I'm pouting. And, if I tell you why I'm pouting it will be obnoxious whining about almost nothing.

Deep down inside I know that I am very blessed, which makes it embarrassing to be found whining. So I'll just pout in silence.

My family has tried to cheer me up with happy, positive thoughts about the wonderful rest of my life ahead. Maybe even with my best accomplishments ahead of me.

My youngest sister, who is a decade away from this startling age, finally humored me by allotting me one day of pouting per decade. That means I can keep pouting until Wednesday.

To be truthful about it, I started my pout the day before my birthday, so Monday is the only day I have left.

It's nice to put limits on pouts.