Happy birthday to me. My present upon turning 55 was getting to shovel a half block of snow; a neighbor got the other half. We’re the only semi-able-bodied men on this side of the street, so we tag-team snow removal on behalf of those less mobile.
As blizzards go this was pretty weak stuff, though the lawn will like the heavy, wet snow; just enough to soak the greenery without tearing branches off trees. Plenty of ice underneath, which makes me wish I owned an auto body shop. Instead of chipping away at a sidewalk with a plastic shovel I’d be pricing real estate beachside, browning like a fat pork chop in a skillet and enjoying a frosty beverage shaded by a tiny paper umbrella.
The snow croaked my plan to ride my age (55 = 55 miles). One friend suggested doing it on the stationary trainer (ho ho); another noted that I have been elevated to the ground floor of a new racing age group (which already holds most of the fast dudes who had been flogging me in the 50-54s before I wised up and retired from competition). A third sang me a variation of the “Happy Birthday” song over the phone:
Happy birthday to you
Your basement’s fulla poo
You work for a website
And they’re not paying you.
I could mark this auspicious occasion by drinking 55 ounces of beer, then peeing a big 55 in the snow. But I fear shrinkage in this vile weather. One wishes to impress the neighbors, not amuse them.
Late update: OK, it’s not exactly a present-free birthday. The aforementioned website finally crossed my palm with coin of the realm, a full 12 days past the contractually mandated deadline. A number of you have weighed in with various deranged salutations involving pricey beverages that I can’t quite reach from here. And the mom-in-law rang me up to sing a proper version of “Happy Birthday” (mind you, not just ’cause she fears being consigned to an Army cot in the garage when she comes to visit in May). Finally, Herself authorized the purchase of a used 12-inch 1.5GHz G4 PowerBook from PowerMax as a backup for the recently resurrected MacBook. This expenditure required the trading in of the two beater G3 iBooks that have been stinking up the joint, which makes it another exercise in thinning the MacHerd and therefore semi-responsible in addition to self-indulgent.
Mad Blog Media 
Happy birthday, ya old fart. I’m only a few behind you, but at least I’ll never catch you! You got that going for you, anyway. Have a grand time tonite.
Happy Birthday Patrick. Perhaps I’ll fetch some fine Scottish or Irish aqua marron for to offer a toast tonight.
I dunno about this getting old stuff. Kinda reminds me of the last 25 miles of a Century–just seems to get harder all the time and you get tired out. But I guess it beats the alternative, i.e., being prematurely picked up by the sag wagon.
Happy B’Day, Patrick, and you too can look forward to more junk mail from AARP.
Happy B’day Patrick. Do you start receiving mailings from AARP at 55?
Charlie
ACA is moving to the UCI age grouping for cross this year, so you just got cheated out of your 55er year. Congratulations on your racing-age 56 Bday!
Hope your Birthday is as wonderful as your wife…..wait is that even possible??? Happy BIrthday!
Happy Birthday ya old dog, and I’m right behind you. Settle in, sip and hug a lot.
Older and uglier on the same day. That’s bad luck, eh? But you should be used to it by now.
We, too, have been engaged in a cleaning/culling project, much of which involves boxes and boxes of old pictures. I found a few of you when you were younger and MUCH better looking. Maybe it was all that hair covering your mug…
If I can figure out the scanner, I’ll shoot you a couple.
Meanwhile, Happy Birthday you old retrograde reprobate.
CC
Haw — Chris, I have pix of you, too, and friends in the legal profession, so you may wish to be judicious in your distribution of your little art project. Small furry rodents are depicted, slathered with various lubricants, and not even playing “The White Album” backwards makes it palatable.
Happy Birthday, Patrick!
I raise a glass of cheap Thai whiskey to your health, continued ranting and kitty pictures.
Happy Birthday! Cheers!
Thought of you when Andrew Lloyd Webber touted his Turkish Van on
“the Graham Norton Show” that aired recently in the U.S. ALW showed video of the cat swimming (apparently Vans are fond of swimming) and also showed off the magazine “Vantastic.” The video of the cat in the pool is on ALW’s website.
Happy B-day from Cheeseland, and thanks loads- literally.
We’re next up for your blizzard. 4-8 tonite. I already put the snowblower in hibernation and cleaned up the yard (thrice)- all for naught.
Oh well. The mountian bike knobbies work pretty well on a snow covered street. At least I can ride.
Cheers.
Mountain bike knobbies with studs work even better.
My oldest son passed through the Springs yesterday and said there wasn’t that much snow there. His younger daughter was worried about getting home from their Texas vacation for her 10 AM Saturday, today, soccer game. They are sledding instead.
Duncan, Boulder, CO
Here’s to another 55 laps around the big ball of fire. And after that.. well, we know where everyone here is eventually heading, so at least there’ll be good company while we pay for our sins.
happy one, old dog
Thanks to one and all for the birthday wishes. I survived the occasion and Herself and I went for a short run this afternoon to sweat out the toxins, as if one could crack a sweat in 36 windy degrees. I’m rehydrating with a Mirror Pond Pale Ale and trying very hard not to look at my birthday bottle of Bushmills.
happy bday dickweed
i love you
Congratulations on entering another age group. From now on the age groups get smaller and the fast people get a little slower and more importantly fewer in number. There is podium possibilities if you can outlast the competition..
Happy Birthday
Speaking of discussions of mortality, here’s one from a buddy of mine at work. Analogies to certain work environments in Northern New Mexico may or many not apply.
So this guy dies and goes to Hell. Upon arrival, the Devil gives him the orientation and tells him he has his choice of three rooms in which to spend eternity.
Upon entering Room One, the guy sees countless people tied to posts being flogged, and they are screaming in pain. So he shakenly says “show me Room Two”.
They go into Room Two, and the guy sees countless people strapped to spits, being rotated above cooking fires by devils. They are screaming and writhing. Now really shaken, the guy says, “Please show me Room Three”.
So they go to Room Three. Here, the guy sees countless people, sitting waist-deep in shit, drinking coffee. He says, “well, compared to Rooms One and Two, this isn’t bad; I’ll stay here”.
The devil gives him his chair and cup of coffee and leaves. Then, moments later, another devil walks in and says, “Allright, break’s over. Back on your heads”.