Another Year

So, here we are. Since last week, I added another number to my age. It's no big deal, really. At least I'm on this side of the ground.

Admittedly, I was a little miffed the Indians decided to announce their name change on my birthday. It's causing quite the kerfuffle, and while I personally think The Guardians is a fine name, there are a lot of folks who don't agree. (Sorry, boss.)

Also, I learned on my birthday that one of my new coworkers is leaving. Fine, Justin. Go ahead and pursue a better opportunity. Sheesh. Be that way. (Seriously, I wish him well, but I still feel bad because our team will really miss him.)

As things generally happen in threes, I was waiting for another dramatic announcement from somewhere. Thankfully, the rest of the day was quiet. 

Mr. Ginley and I walked up to our local haunt, something we haven't done since pre-pandemic. We had drinks and noshes, and it was nice. My margarita was the first in a long while, and it was tasty. The eats were okay, but I think we both realized our every-Friday-night routine will not resume. Given my new job situation, I don't feel the need for that weekly wind-down like I did in the final days of my old full-time gig.

Thanks to all of you who sent along natal day wishes. And a "Happy Anniversary" shout-out to my sister, who got married on my birthday a bunch of years ago. 

They say a birthday is just a number. And while I wish mine was a little lower, I'll take it just the same. Creaky bones aside, I feel pretty good for this stage of the game.

I may not have a mansion or a Mazeratti or gold records on the wall. I don't go to parties, sometimes until 4. No worries about handling fortune and fame.

Still, life's been good to me so far...