I turned 48 over this past weekend. Or, as I like to call it, thirty-eighteen. A few months back, I convinced myself I was already 48. So when the actual day arrived, it was no big deal. Because in my mind, I haven't been 47 since March. Trust me, it works.
As a side note, I had a nice visit with my mother Irene. She can't remember when my birthday is which is very convenient since I didn't have time to visit her in the nursing home on the actual day. This originally stirred some guilt but it dissipated after the 5th time she asked me when my birthday was. I was in the clear.
Irene told me that if she gets to vote in the presidential election that she would vote for Obama because "Obama is for the gays." Good to know. Suddenly I have a vision of 87 year old Irene sitting in a wheelchair by the rotary (or roundabout as it is called in other places) in East Longmeadow, holding a sign that reads "Vote For Obama. He's For The Gays!" You go girl! Which in reality is less frightening than the vision the neighbors had of me skinny dipping in The Wet Spot the other night. Hopefully they were all in bed early.