A walk around Calistoga this morning. Coffee. Ibuprofen. Attempts at removing this ax I have lodged in the middle of my forehead. You see, turning Fifty only happens once every Fifty years: Best celebrated with a couple of good friends at a classy Inn while drinking a few wheat ales washed down with single malt Scotch. The good stuff.
Fun. But I'm happy turning Fifty only happens once. At least no ribs were broken during the celebration.
2 comments:
Allan,
The day after my 50th last year I laid around the house all day. My wife was an angel and let me rest my old head. I tried to party like I was 30 and I paid dearly for it. Don't believe I have even come close to that much imbibing since.
Glad you enjoyed your day...
Welcome to the 2nd half century--it's all cobwebs from here on out. ;-)
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