Aging Not-So-Gracefully

Malaise, I fear, has sunk its dark black teeth into my legs. I don't know about you, but I feel very much like I need a vacation. It's not my work schedule, which fluctuates more than Oprah's dress size, thereby granting me ample time to sit comfortably on my ass. (Not quite a vacation, but still). And its clearly not a semiconscious desire to escape some gritty, unpleasant climate -- Colorado in the fall just flat-out rocks. The leaves are beginning to splash yellows and oranges through the mountains and streets. Its sunny and cool, leaving behind the heat of summer. It's just nice out. Fall in Colorado is what justifies Winter in Colorado. Otherwise we'd all just go live in Phoenix AZ.

Scratch that. I don't know how anybody deals with that 111 degree crap. When do you ride your bike in Phoenix? 2:30 AM? I'm out.

Perhaps it has something to do with my age.  I'm 30 now. The golden age that very slightly predates regular prostate exams. Considering that one year and ten months ago, I was trying pretty actively to drink myself to death, I'm pretty pleased to be, well, to be alive. Some other people thought it was an occasion worth celebrating and correspondingly there was a party. The trouble with surprise parties is that they're pretty hard to avoid. All your prospective alibis are already there, and they know you don't have anything else to do. There was a piñata, and let me tell you, if whacking wildly at a paper mache car with a bat was fun when you were eight, its gonna be fun when you're thirty. Plus there's candy inside of those things. Yes. Candy.

Additionally MFK allowed himself to be photographed in what I believe is next year's cold weather racing kit. THIS also marks the first time a human has been seen wearing a snuggie while standing but not on the way to the bathroom or the fridge.

Thanks everybody.

Now... For that vacation: