you can save it for the birds and bees

I turn 54 today…and they’re running commercials like this on my television.

Good grief.

Now, if this bald man can help me figure out how to avoid eating cat food in my retirement years, I’m on board with his plan…but what a drag to see those short ribbons stretch out a ways and then be reminded that they needed to stretch a lot farther.


That’s a drag.

That’s a stretch of my imagination to imagine a long ribbon.

Now, of course, thinking about the end of the ribbon is kind of like what I wrote about yesterday.

I’m “wrapping the sandwich” before I even have the bread out of the bag….I’m worried about the night to come when the sun is just cresting the hill and the rooster is crowing.

Actually, our stupid rooster crows a long time before the sun comes up.

He’s “bad to do that”.

I read a book a while ago that talked about how we probably need less money in retirement than we think we do.

I like that philosophy better…although figuring out a way to have a “butt load” (that looks kind of offensive written out…sorry) of money might be fun, too.

The book talked about community and vibrancy and having strong interests…and all the other things that really don’t cost a lot.

Desperately trying to avoid debt is the flip side of saving for retirement.

Maybe having no debt is the key?

Maybe this is weird to be thinking about this on my birthday?!

Do you know that when you turn 55…I’m 54 today…they start giving you a senior discount a lot of places?

What is this? Some kind of conspiracy to make us all feel old so that we’re more apt to just lay down and go away? Am I suddenly on the other side of the “youth conspiracy”?

I do feel like any chance of me doing anything “precocious” evaporated a long time ago.

That element of surprise is sailing over the beautiful horizon.

Now the only surprise is “I wonder what took him so long?”

Or maybe, “I really didn’t think he had it in him…”

Who knows…

A lady asked me if I was the “grandfather” or the “father” when I was carrying Sparrow around a fabric store…looking for Jenny…yesterday.

Of course, I proudly said, “THE FATHER!!! WHAT?!!! YOU LOOKIN’ AT ME?!!! YOU LOOKIN’ AT ME?!!!”

Actually, I only said…kindly said…”the father”.

That’s OK…it’s kind of a non-traditional situation to have these little guys running or laying around when I’m starting to look a little older. I can see why she’d ask that question.

I’d wonder, too, if I saw some old dude with a baby.

It is a trip getting older….not “old”, just a little older. It’s a trip to feel the gravitational pull of people’s expectations…that black hole of “how I’m supposed to act”….

I don’t want to be reminded of that…

Shut up, society!! In my head, I’m an immature youngster…so SHUT UP, ALREADY.

Another day older…but so much wiser.

So very much wiser…wise beyond my years.


“for the love of money” o’jays

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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