We were sitting with my dad Mikey and a bunch of his friends. During the team switch-a-roo – you know that one thing that happens in the middle of an inning – one of Mikey's friends leaned over to my right ear and said, "Hey Rabid. Why aren't you writing on your blog any more?"
"Well." I said, "There's nothing to write about. Life has been vanilla-flavored milquetoast."
It's true. Vanilla-flavored milquetoast. Blah.
At long last, however, things have changed and I've bottled some of my milquetoast life in a variety of flavors and spices. Lots has been happening around here (finally!) and I'm ready to force these flavors upon you folks.
First and foremost, is the flavor of forty – as in four 'n zero, 40, and old as mold! Last week I turned 40. At first I wanted to keep quiet about it all and pretend it didn't happen; wanted to bury my woes beneath a pillow for days and listen to the smooth sounds of seashores. I changed my mind, however, when I read the advice of the mighty and wise Tyrion Lannister, son of Lord Tywin Lannister, brother of Jaime and Cersei Lannister, and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands (from George R.R. Martin's Game of Thrones, and why has it taken me so long to pick up these books?!):
"Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you."
What I are now is 40! I wear this 40 as armor! I am 40 hear me roar!
This 40th birthday came in with a roaring. It was a week-long celebration. Stay tuned.