My Birthday and the after effects.

It was my birhtday back a couple of days ago and for some reason I have not handled it so well.I did fifty and sixty well. I told myself they are just numbers and I went on my merry way. But sixty-three has been a little more difficult to handle because every time I turn around and yes

even turnoing around these days with a bad knee is difficult, I see another sign post in the road declaring I'm old. Beyond the bad knee that forces me to sleep with it in a certain position, I have a neck problem. My neck I've had problems with for years. I keep all my tension in my shoulders and over the years I have compressed two disks in my neck. Last year I did something to my neck and hurt it so I can't sleep on my back any more. I start the night on my right side facing Teri, at least until my thigh starts to hurt, then I will turn over to the other side until tha begins to hurt. Oh and sometimes when I'm laying down I feel like I can't swallow and even though I really don't need to I have to swallow and I prop myself up on my eblow to swallow. But it's all good (I really hate that expression) the alternative is someone throwing dirt on your face. On my birthday I make an effort to not think about all of that crap and Covid too and I go out to dinner with the three most important people in my life. I really enjoy going out to dinner

with my family, just the three of us. I know it is coming to an end sooner rather then later, but I'll enjoy it while I can. We go to Bailey's on Erie Street in Blauvelt. When it opened I enjoyed it more then I do now. It's still good, but it's not fablous like it used to be, I don't know why. Last year We all went to Outback in the Mall, it's closed and Covid gone like a lot of other restaurants. Teri made a reservation for seven for Bailey's and of course in the last hour or so of work a bunch of faxes come in and I'm trying to finish them before I leave. I leave late. Traffic on the bridge is still Covid (has Covid just become a verb/ adverb instead of a noun). I manage to get home on time, We leave and get to Bailey's about on time for our reservation. The restaurant is not quite Covid full (didn't I just use Covid to describe 'full' and doesn't that make it an adverb. God, I wish I'd found english in school more interesting.) As we wait, with our masks on fully, I look at the restaurant. People are sitting next to one another without their masks on. I wonder if that is really a smart thing. It reminds me of the time I saw someone in the BP gas station near my house without a mask on and yelled at him. Lately I haven't seem anyone with out a mask. I guess they have all gotten smart or gotten Covid and died. Natural selection, I guess. The dumb dieing off. (I'm sorry, that was nasty. I won't take it back, but I am sorry) We sit down and I leave my mask on while everyone else takes their's off. We order drinks, well at least I try to. I ask for a Sam Adam's and I'm told they don't have any. I get up and half seriously say, "OK, let's go.." No one else follows and I sit down. I ask for a couple of samples of different beers that I might like. Teri says I shouldn't ask for more then the two I have asked for. So I look at the menu and pick the beer with the highest alcohol content, it's called Cerberous.It's nine dollars a glass and I get this small snifter of beer. It's a dark, stout looking beer. I take a sip and it is awful. It feels thick, heavy and almost has a chocolate type after taste to it, but it's not sweet, it's bitter. But I've bought it and I will drink it. I take a couple of gulps to get started, it doesn't help. About half way through the beer I notice I'm laughing and enjoying the conversation more and more and the beer still tastes awful, but I'm still drinking it(8% alcohol). We order the bone yard and three sides. Nastia orders potato skins and crab cakes, two appatisers, she still doesn't finish. "Cramps!" she says "cramps!" are preventing her from eating. Never having suffered from them, I make no comment. After dinner, I'm asked what I want to do now. I say "let's go home." I see three people with open mouths, surprised. They were thinking Dairy Queen, while I was thinking it's twenty-six degrees, windy and I want to go home. So we go home and break the tradation of going to Dairy Queen after a birthday dinner. Sunday, I go to donate blood. I've been doing this since I was eighteen. Except for a span in my late twenties I have regularly donated blood. The last few years I've gone to donate blood I've been turned down because of low iron in my blood.Before that I was turned down to donate plateletes, which is a little more involved thing where they draw the blood out in one tube and return it in another without the plateletes. When it returns to your arm it's cold and feels funny. Your arm tingles and sometimes your whole body feels weird. Back in November, Elena and I donated blood and everything went well. This time, she is not interested, she has work. I go on my own like I have for years and I get to St Ann's in

Nyack a little early. I was here yesterday thinking it's the the right day. When I walk in and they try to hand me a bag of groceries, I realize it's the wrong day. So on the right day I get in a Covid line and hear the person at the door say they are just getting set up and are running behind. I have an appointment, which I hate to make, put this time I made one and I am able to walk past someone who didn't. I'm relaxed and patient going through all of the hoops set up to protect the blood supply. I answer all the questions about have I paid for sex in the last six months,been stuck with a needle, been with someone who has HIV. All of those fun questions. I sit down and wait to get called to get my finger pricked. Everytime I think about this I remember the old George Carlyn joke and I'm sure I've said it before. you can prick your finger, but don't finger......* or something like that. I've been taking my iron pills so I pass the finger prick with a 14.1. Later I read that 13.9 to 17 is acceptable and I vow to raise my iron level to the mid range. I play musical chairs waiting for a bed to open to donate blood. When someone ahead of me goes everyone moves up a chair. I finally get called and go over to the donation area. I tell the tech, my right is better then my left. I get comfortable on the chase lounge bed and prepare to get stuck. Now over the years I've had some very bad sticks in the arm. This one ranks up near the top. She sticks me, then proceeds to back up the needle without taking it out and goes back in. She does this several times before she calls over another person. He proceeds to do the same thing and after a few attempts he says I'm done for the day and I've got pretty lousey vains. I took a picture of the place they stuck the needle last night and I didn't even see the mark they left. All I see is the old man skin all around the wound and I wonder when did that happen. I'm looking at my hands and suddenly I see all the wrinkles and the one joint on my left hand that is swollen and it all is starting to come together, I not getting old, I've been there for sometime now and the next stop is Willoughby in the Twilight Zone, (orginial series with Rod Sterling. It's a stretch for some of you younger folk, god now I'm writting like an old man, to know what I'm referencing) Let's just say if the after life is Willoughby, I'm on the next train. This bog has gotten a little to dark so I need to post a couple of George Carlyn jokes to end it. If you spin an oriental man in a circle three times, does he become disoriented? Is it true that cannibals don't eat clowns because they taste funny? The IQ and the life expectancy of the average American recently passed each other going in opposite directions. I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older; then it dawned on me – they're cramming for their final exam. The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live. Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity. Never argue with an idiot; they will only bring you down to their level and beat you with experience. I'm told Mark Twain said this one. I'm leaving it in, it's so good and true. * “You can prick your finger ... Just don't finger your prick.” ― George Carlin /