Enjoying my birthday here in damp and chilly Central Florida thinking I shouldn’t complain because it’s a hell of a lot worse where everybody else is.

Thinking about my Grandmother in her hospital bed fighting the latest in a seemingly never-ending stream of difficulties and wishing I could talk to her and share the celebration of her becoming a grandmother on this day thirty-six years ago.

Thinking about Jed Hastings, R.I.P., and missing the annual telephone call on “our” birthday. It just ain’t the same.

Thinking that thirty-six is much tougher on my brain than anything else in my thirties: I assume it’s because I’m closer to 40 than 30 and closer to 50 than 20. Crazy the way the mind works.

Thinking I must be completely loopy to go to Disney World by myself at thirty-six. But, damn, I had a good time.

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