I am not going to write too much about what happened on Saturday night, because many of the people who read this blog know first-hand.
By way of preface, I am, indeed, curmudgeonly about a lot of things, some not so lovable – like hating small talk, disdaining public and especially undeserved praise and getting gifts. I would much rather give them, because it is such a selfish act of pride.
I also thrive on routine, feeling that tomorrow should be pretty much as today, with just enough small variation that I might learn something.
So, Saturday night, despite an NFL playoff game on the air, I had agreed to go out to dinner with my wife and another couple whom we have come to like, and it was at a restaurant I have patronized before with good gastronomic outcomes.
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Dismissing some wacky foreshadowings as just more wacky stuff from my wife prior to dinner, I wound up the victim of a surprise birthday party at the restaurant. I hate surprises. I have pronounced this view many times apropos of nothing other than the possibility something like this might happen.
Despite myself, I did enjoy it, mostly because the guest list of only 30, including five immediate family and my sister and brother in law who flew in for the occasion, were 23 of the friends who have meant the most to me.
I saw the party for what it was, and in response to a toast, I proclaimed this was indeed a fine gathering -- as it was a preview of my memorial service. I have achieved pretty much what I ever wanted out of life, and now I have seen the core group of mourners should I have the good luck not to outlive them all!
I always saw myself as an adult, even from early childhood, having believed I was born at 40. Which means those last 20 years have been really long!
So, thanks to those who attended and mostly to those who planned it and who are hereby disinherited.
By way of preface, I am, indeed, curmudgeonly about a lot of things, some not so lovable – like hating small talk, disdaining public and especially undeserved praise and getting gifts. I would much rather give them, because it is such a selfish act of pride.
I also thrive on routine, feeling that tomorrow should be pretty much as today, with just enough small variation that I might learn something.
So, Saturday night, despite an NFL playoff game on the air, I had agreed to go out to dinner with my wife and another couple whom we have come to like, and it was at a restaurant I have patronized before with good gastronomic outcomes.
.jpg)
Dismissing some wacky foreshadowings as just more wacky stuff from my wife prior to dinner, I wound up the victim of a surprise birthday party at the restaurant. I hate surprises. I have pronounced this view many times apropos of nothing other than the possibility something like this might happen.
Despite myself, I did enjoy it, mostly because the guest list of only 30, including five immediate family and my sister and brother in law who flew in for the occasion, were 23 of the friends who have meant the most to me.
I saw the party for what it was, and in response to a toast, I proclaimed this was indeed a fine gathering -- as it was a preview of my memorial service. I have achieved pretty much what I ever wanted out of life, and now I have seen the core group of mourners should I have the good luck not to outlive them all!
I always saw myself as an adult, even from early childhood, having believed I was born at 40. Which means those last 20 years have been really long!
So, thanks to those who attended and mostly to those who planned it and who are hereby disinherited.
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