Happy Birthday to Me

So another year has come and gone. I keep edging closer to 40. I don't really care, but I ain't like I used to be. Heck when I left for the Army at 17, I was 135... almost too skinny for the Army. Now not so much. That is ok too. The other day I played volleyball with some friends, which it felt great to get out and get active. That or I was enjoying drinking too many sangrias. I felt every muscle that I thought would be fine the next day. Not really. I hurt.

And that is the catch that everyone must be snagged by. Yes I know that I could work out and make myself better, but really? Sooner or later we all succumb. I think the main thing that gets me in trouble is the mind thinks I'm still 17, 135lbs. when in fact I am older and fatter. My joints need time to limber up. Of course while I say that, I got a 44lbs 5-year-old and 25lbs 18-month-old that need me to pick them up. Or jump on me, or a horsey ride anyone?

I know I can't do the things I once could, I used to put that off on the stroke... I don't think I can write that ticket anymore. I can't do it because I'm old and/or fat. I confide in my wife, 4 years my senior, and while she understands, she is getting older too. She has her own things to dye, pluck, and otherwise to get done. So I'm happy I have a birthday to celebrate, I have no plans, no cake or presents (at least I don't think so) and that is ok too. I have pretty much everything I need.I think that before age 40 is just about as good as it gets. Sure if somebody wants to pay for a new Ferrari or boat I'd take it, but otherwise I'm content.