Today begins my 63rd year, and for some reason more than all the others before that number really does make it sound to me like I'm getting old.
The signs have all been there recently. I keep discovering new aches and pains most days, and my wife (a new sexagenarian herself, I might add) has started automatically telling me what the waitress just said even though she knows it makes me cranky. But the biggest giveaway is that I have begun to laugh at all those e-mails making the rounds finding the funny side of getting old. You know the ones that joke about having aches and pains, not hearing well and just generally being cranky.
To all those who e-mailed, Skyped, Facebooked and SMSed me, thanks for your birthday wishes. Those of you who used the 19th century technique known as a phone call already have been thanked. To those of you who meant to say something but forgot, don't worry. But just be aware that I received birthday wishes from www.FlyerTalk.com but not from you. Of course, it would hardly be fair for me of all people to think poorly of someone who forgot something. (Or, more likely, doesn't have an automated reminder on their computer's calendar.)
All this focus on my birthday made me remember that I had forgotten to check on a payment I was supposed to get last week. So I logged onto our bank account and sure enough on June 4 I had officially become a pensioner since that was the first day my retirement plan paid a pension check into our account. And that, I suppose, is confirmation enough that I'm no spring chicken anymore (not that I have any idea what a spring chicken is, anyway).
We had a lovely day yesterday. I missed most of my birthday morning with a late sleep-in. I was tired from a triple whammy of still being on West Coast time, feeling pretty run down from our very late arrival the night before and, oh yes, martinis with Dave.
Once we got rolling on the day, LK and I went to the mall and ordered an iPad. They're on back-order of about a week right now, so we won't get it until next week. But I think it says something about both of us that we will be returning home with a carry-on bag that will have two Apple Mac laptops, an iPad, two iPod Touches, two Dr Dre Monster Beat headphones, two mobile phones, a TomTom GPS and two Kindles. We don't think it's excessive, though, because not all of them are working.
As we were leaving the mall, a large guy was walking in the other direction. He looked quite scruffy and was wearing shorts, a baseball cap and had a t-shirt half out and half tucked in. I told LK that she had absolute permission to tell me if I ever was out in public and looked like that. She studied the guy for a few seconds and said, "But you already do look like that, except maybe you have nicer shorts." She did suggest, though, that I was starting to get a bit scruffy and needed to do something about my hair.
My "scruffiness" remained a hot topic last night when we went to one of my favorite restaurants with Sandy and Dave and Jordan. Rio Tomatlan's decor is nothing fancy (a big plus to me!) but the Mexican food is just about as good as it gets. And, since this was also Fathers Day in America, it was nice that David and I both got to celebrate at such a nice place.
My beard is coming in pretty nicely - and whitely - but my hair is showing signs of shagginess. LK told the table I needed a haircut and asked about where I should go. Sandy chimed in that the length was good. She remembered the pictures of my debacle at the barbershop last year and said I absolutely had to avoid old-fashioned barbers. I listened with interest as they discussed it further, and then it occurred to me. They were talking about me. And about whether I should get a haircut. And I was there. And I wasn't really part of the conversation.
I think that may be the other reason I feel older today.