At 6:32 in the morning of September 28, 1973, my mother gave birth to me. Unknown to her, the next 32 years would be full of a smart ass who thought that history was cool, loved basketball, and became addicted to X-Men comic books instead of weed. Who would have thunk it?
After my 30th birthday (a story for later), my birthdays have become a very 'normal' occurrence. Seriously, I don't know exactly how else to put it. Both my wife and I work our ass off, and we come home and crash. So today involved some take out sushi, Gilmore Girls, and a little snuggling. You know what. That was just fine.
Today officially has ended all the bad things that have been plaguing the household lately. Good news has struck twice in a week and that has lightened the mood. I'm dead tired, so I'll explain later.
For those that wonder, "dead tired" is not really a bad thing. Teaching is giving up a whole lot of energy and spirit. My wife and I have been dead tired, but not miserable. There is a difference, and I'll talk later about it later.
Whirling with Robert Frost
3 hours ago