Today is my birthday. I am now 49 years old. For some reason this feels like a very big deal to me.
I have this fear of turning 50 and saying "I hate my life". I can't allow that to happen. I'm going to work very hard these next twelve months to ensure it doesn't.
Remember that scene in "A Christmas Story" where Ralphie is walking home, and gets plastered square in the face with a snowball? This is the incident that triggered his insane rage, and caused him to beat the living shit out of Scut Farkus.
In the past weeks, life has bombarded my face with several attention getting snowballs. And I need to muster up the courage to do something about it. Just like Ralphie.
I'm not where I need to be. Not yet. But Good Lord willing, I've got a year left to get there.
6 hours ago