Bad Birthday

barnI recently turned 50. It was a bad birthday.

Okay, first off-my birthday was excellent. I will tell you about the
“bad” portion in a little bit. My sister, Deb, had made it into a
birthday week. She brought me coffee Monday morning, pumpkin cake
Tuesday and then resumed gifting me when I got back to work on
Friday. Debbie even brought breakfast pizza for everyone Friday
morning. Just prior to Deb’s arrival, Lisa and Jeanette had delivered
red velvet
cupcakes. It was a great day.

I did not want a big get-together for my 50th birthday. I had to work
the week-end so I could not stay up late and I really like small
gatherings. It doesn’t get much smaller than Lisa, me and three cats.
I got some birthday phone calls that night and Lisa and I just
enjoyed each other’s company. About seven that night, Lisa gave me
her birthday gift.

As a young man, I wanted a watch. Mom and Dad had an old watch that
didn’t work so they brought it to Elroy Jensen for repair. I waited
and waited for that watch and eventually drove my parents’ nuts with
my persistence. I eventually received the watch and the maturity that
comes with displaying a timepiece on one’s wrist. The best part of
this watch was the band I eventually attached the watch to and
affixed to my wrist. The watchband was leather and was very wide; so
wide that it needed two buckles. It reminded me of the tough guys I
saw on television. It was the mark of a truly “bad” dude.

You must know where I am going with this by now. Lisa gave me a watch
Friday night for my fiftieth birthday. It has a huge, simple face
consisting of an hour, minute and second hand. This chunk of time
perched upon a wide, leather band. It is so wide that it needs three
buckles to close it. When I wear it, it appears that I have escaped
from a gladiator
camp or perhaps am preparing for a really heavy bench press. It is so
cool. It is so bad.

Just this afternoon, someone noticed my watch. This watch is not shy
and I wouldn’t want it to be retiring. It is a watch that doesn’t
cover its’ mouth when laughing nor does it beg the pardon of any
earthly king. It is the kind of watch and band combination that says
“I’ll be your huckleberry.” It has found a good place on my wrist.

My birthday was excellent. It went just as I wished it to go, only
better. I woke-up happy and went to bed happy. It was a better than
most and it is an understatement to label it as good.
Thanks to Lisa and her good choice of a gift for her man’s fiftieth
birthday, it was bad. My birthday was so good that It was a “bad.”

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