Friday, October 16, 2015

Birthday 46

I've got a medical condition.

I'm deteriorating.  I'm growing less flexible.  Exercise and dieting has less effect.  I'm increasingly forgetful.  My hair is falling out, and my skin has creases in it.

Naturopaths call my condition a Systemic Yeast Infection.  Mainstream doctors call it Growing Older.

It's getting worse.  Soon, I'll only be able to talk about how things were when I was younger and how bad kids are these days.

In May, I'm turning 46.  Like most men diagnosed with Growing Older, I have to accept reality.  

Half my life is gone.
Maybe more.

I won't become famous.

Seems I'm still young enough to be infamous.
I'll never have gaggles of models throwing themselves at me.
Depending on how you define models.
You can understand why Growing Older might make me depressed around my birthday. You can understand if I sat alone in a Starbucks updating my blog and wondering if I'd prefer to be cremated, buried, or dressed like a piñata and hung up at an unsuspecting child's birthday party.
Um, kids.  That's not candy.
But I don't get depressed about Growing Older because I do something crazy every year.  I go on quests, jump out of airplanes, shoot guns, and so on.  While this kind of celebration does lift my spirits, it also taxes my imagination.

I'm running out of ideas.

Except this one.
 After some thought, I decided 46 will be my microbirthday!

Here's the deal: I will bring my birthday party to you.  Pick a date and time and I will visit you, bringing:
·         Enough cake for everyone
·         Utensils, plates, cups, and napkins
·         Candles and lighter

You don't have to bring anything.   No, seriously.  Don't feel you have to bring a present.  You are my present.
Um, scratch that.
Some small requirements:
  • If you are more than an hour of Silicon Valley, I'll have to see you on a weekend.
  • Umm...
  • Hm.
  • Okay, that's about it.
Stay tuned.  I'll post a calendar here next week.... Or whenever I figure out how to do that.

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