The Old Gray Pere

I woke up this morning with stiff legs and a creaking back. The marathon is going to kill me this time. God, I'm getting old, I thought. I did a few stretches, hobbled into the kitchen and made some coffee. Sat down to do some journaling, and looked at the date.

March 7. Oh. At least I'm not as old as some people.

Happy birthday, Dad (he's the one on the left). Have a great day. I'll be there in spirit, and Larry and I will drink a Manhattan for you tonight.

The white hair suits him, don't you think? I can't wait for mine to finish the transistion to that color.