This year sounds like is should be special!

I don’t feel older, but I do. tireder, fatter, brokendowner, greyer, grumpier, drunker and duller. I’m not sure I can make 42 more at this rate of decline.

Genevieve asks if I wish i was a kid. Sweetheart…you can’t imagine how badly. When she asks what I wanted i can’t even remember. Now i just want a day off.

Looking back is revisionist history written by my current state of mind. Bad days it is makes me depressed, melancholic, regretful of every choice that landed me right here where I am. Good days I celebrate every moment leading up to this one of perfection, but focus more on the accomplished feeling rather than the feeling. At what age did it become so hard to be happy? Sometime around 2 kids, 2 mortgages and 2 jobs ago…

Genevieve was psyched to give me a present, Beckie bought cake, and goddamit it was time for ThNR, even if it would be table for 1.

It was the worst 1 hr ride ever. Sidewall slice, pedal smack riding the wrong lines to protect the soggy rear wheel sent me tumbling over bars banging both knees in exactly the same spot, and I couldnt even find my own damn tequila tree.

but I did. and all was well again, at least for awhile.