Tomorrow is the big day. The first day of the second half of my life. Kind of like the first 40 years were practice -- but for what? That is always the question for me. I'm feeling pretty good about it. I bought an elliptical to make sure I have another 40 years and am healthy enough to enjoy them. It makes exercise fairly enjoyable, although my body has tried to reject it. (I would blog all about it, but having already used the word vomit in a previous post, I decided to spare everyone the details. However, I do recommend that you eat your breakfast cereal after you exercise, not before.) I am going to get serious about finding employment that I enjoy. I am going to say yes more than I say no. I'm going to stop feeling guilty for having 30 magazines half-read on my coffee table, although I am going to try to finish them in a timely fashion.
So in a completely non-morbid manner (see above plan for next 40 years of healthy living, happy working, and reading) for those of you left standing when my final day comes, here is my request: cremate me and toss me into Twelve Mile half-way between the dock and the narrows. Hopefully, a fish will choke on me. Please send Caesar and any other canine companions in similar state with me -- just in case we get to choose companions in the next life. Give away my books and sell what you can. Spend anything left over on yourselves and know that I wish it was more.
And just to remind everyone what I looked like before I got old and gray, a picture of me and the Boom -- in the first act of my life.
2 comments:
It's nice to plan your funeral. I've already decided that they have to play "A Whiter Shade of Pale."
Oh, and Happy Birthday!
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