I turned 51 years old today, or so they tell me. I haven't been paying attention. I'm deep into the first draft of a new novel, lost in my own imagination, and I don't know what day it is. I go around dopey and goofy all the time. Not to mention Porky.
Reaching 50 was a big deal, and I celebrated by going to a banquet in Seattle where I was up for an award. A good friend won instead. This is what they call bittersweet. I walked back to my hotel drunk and alone, very late, in the rain. Seattle noir.
What am I doing for 51? I have no idea. My wife's got something cooking, some surprise outing. I feel sure it doesn't involve walking in the rain.
Otherwise, I'll probably be sitting right here. Cranking out more pages on the new book.
Ever the party animal.
2.02.2008
They say it's my birthday
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5 comments:
Happy birthday, you young whippersnapper, you.
Happy birthday Steve. Come out of the cave at least long enough for a toast!
Jas.
Oh, and I will be signing up for the Nuts and Bolts seminar.
My mother-in-law sent me a card that says, "You ain't nothing but a groundhog." It shows a groundhog crooning into a microphone, but I'm pretty sure that's Photoshopped....
Thanks for the birthday wishes.
Steve
Happy B-Day, Steve!
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