Wednesday, July 13, 2011

THE BACK OF THE LINE - IT STARTS

41 today.

41.

I woke up and it didn't feel a whole lot different, except that I had my lovely wife roll over after snoozing her alarm three times from 5:30 - 6:00 and wish me Happy Birthday.  How can a day start better than that?  Well maybe if a BMW 330i convertible rolled up in the driveway after I had won a sweepstakes that is now run by Pat Sajak in Ed McMahon's stead, that would be pretty good.  But I'll take my wife any day.  She's really so beautiful in the morning.  Her voice isn't quite full, and much like the morning grass, has dew on it and needs to shake it off to get the full effect of the sunlight.  It cracks a little and sometimes goes a bit raspy.  It's sexy and kind.  And for some reason has kind words to say to me a lot so I kiss it regularly.

Yes I'm going to the office today.  Most people take the day off for their Birthday.  I'm not quite sure why.  For me, Birthday's are a double-edged sword as they are for most people.  Sure, it's great to celebrate the fact I'm here.  In fact, as I sit in my dining room and listen to the birds sing, I'm pretty sure I caught a bar or two of HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR JON.  Who knew robins, thrushes and wrens could whip it into a frenzy?   Yet it's a natural reminder we aren't here forever.  (Somehow I'm beginning to think that I took that part in Jewish studies too far -- you know, where you learn that nearly all Jewish holidays have both happiness and sadness.  We celebrate yet are reminded of who is not here to celebrate - damn depressing sometimes).

Alas, I have to get my butt in gear to head to the doctor's office so they can take my blood.  Apparently, my pale skin isn't the only clue that I lack sunlight.  I'm now short on Vitamin D, and my kindly internist has sought to lend me some so I can correct the problem.  Now, if it would fix my English looking complexion, that would be something, and he would be a hero to all men Phillips.  I have a feeling he's more concerned about the internal implications (hey, he ain't an INTERNIST for nothing) and thus I need to measure my vitamin intake now. 

I'm trying to eat better I'll say that.  One, because I'm conscious enough to know that when the day comes that my wife is carrying our unborn child and we're walking the street together, I don't want to be the one mistaken as being pregnant.  Two, I've noticed that I now react to bad foods a lot more quickly.  I get a noticeable high off a few glasses of coke and then crash like a stalled Cessna later on.  I haven't even done XTC and I have a feeling though the extremes are greater, the result is the same, but probably with a lot more naked photos.

Tonight, my wife and I will get dinner.  Dinner is sort of the fall back social-ISM of the day isn't it?  Whenever you meet up with someone, you get drinks and/or dinner.  If you haven't seen someone in a long time it's "Hey, let's get dinner."  And while you're at work you'll often have a phone call with your spouse that goes something like this:

"Hey.""Hey."
"How's your day going?"
"Fine.  How's yours?"
"Fine."
"What are we going to do for dinner?"

It drives our society, which in LA by the way will come to a screeching halt Friday night around 8pm when they begin the rolling closures of the 405 Freeway.  They're calling it Carmageddon for those of you back east, and sadly, you've probably actually heard about it.  If you want to witness an example of a city which has lousy infrastructure topple into some chaos, get ready.  Now, the question in my head is, if you're a foot thief, what a weekend this is for you?  I mean, what cop can really chase you?  Well, they'd have a hard time in a car at least?  Your worst fear would be that a cop gets smart and decides to bike it or just go after you on foot while you're running with a television.  Other than that, you don't want to have to report a burgulary or any sort of crime this weekend.  If you ever had the thought 'where's a cop when you need one' this weekend isn't a time to put that to the test.

I'm actually praying since the local news is so fascinated with police chases, that someday we get to witness a bicycle cop chasing another dude on foot, who then picks up a bike, and we cut to the on-the-scene reporter standing there saying:

"I'm in Venice, Jane, where this chase has been going on for nearly twenty minutes now and has reached speeds of nearly five miles per hour!"
I'm taking a second real estate class, only three years or so after the first one.  Hey, they don't expire.  I aced the first one, and this one, Real Estate Appraisal, isn't so hard.  Just a lot of terms and common sense.  Got to hit the books soon.  Back to studying for a midterm.  And here I thought that was all behind me.

41.  The big FOUR, ONE.  Forty-one.  Four and one.  41.  I remember in second grade sitting with Patrick Zubrow and David Moltz and giggling about how we'd be 30 in the year 2000.  We never calculated past that, probably because we couldn't add that far or we didn't think that was funny.  41.

Today is the day.  Happy Birthday to me.  I guess I should shower.  41 and stinky is no way to go through life.