39 One More Time

I love being 39. It happened again yesterday. Being 39 means being ageless. You don't get older. You just get better. Why screw around with perfection?

Grace with with us on my 39th which is unusual for a Sunday. She always spends weekends with her mom or with her dad. But something came up and Gracie landed with us at about five yesterday.

We had dinner out. It was a nice place, fairly new with lots of positive critic reviews.

There's always something for our girl to learn when we have dinner out. She's six years old and still learning the fine art of dining with manners and graciousness. This time out Gracie learned that you don't wipe your bread on the plate of butter but using a butter knife instead puts you apart from some of the other Cowtown diners .

The birthday boy had meatloaf. Wifey dined on halibut. Grace chose sirloin tips.

Our server sensed it was Bob's birthday and asked how old I was. Eighty-five I replied. Don't feel a day over 39 though.

Once home there was Baskin and Robbins ice cream cake.


I wanted Grace to kill the cake for me. Take the knife I said, and put that cake out of its misery. Grrrrrr.

Gracie put on her gameface and tried her best to kill the cake.


















At this point I thought she really was going to do it. She seemed ready. Grrrrr, she said, knife in hand. Grrr.





















Then we started laughing. It was time to eat the 39th birthday cake. Another year has bitten the dust. I can hardly wait until my next 39th birthday.