Thanks for the birthday greetings. Like Y2K, the beginning of Y34 passed largely without incident. Surviving this long has taught me at least one thing: When filling my gas tank, I must hold the gas cap in my hand the entire time or I'll drive away with it still sitting on the roof of my car.

Wish I had more wisdom to pass on than that.

The storm you're about to get may be the one we're getting now. If so, watch out. Freezing rain might be the worst. It falls as liquid then turns to glass on the frozen ground.

Leaving the front door of the one bedroom mansion on Duke Road, I literally skated down the walkway to the sidewalk. A simple 200 yard walk to the post office down the street turned into a treacherous trek longer than a three hour tour including shipwreck and marooning on uncharted isle. Almost.

Good luck on your job interviews. What kind of work would you be doing? I spent part of yesterday searching the Internet for companies hiring freelance writers. I don't know if it will lead to anything but I need to develop some marketable skills in a better profession than this one.

That accounted for some of my birthday activities. The main event? Collecting names of area thrift stores from the phone book then going hunting for bargain priced books.

Woo Hoo!

I should splurge for new ones, I know, but the words are the same no matter how much you pay. For the price of a new paperback I got eleven books. No Vonnegut but I did get one by Updike and another by Madden. That would be John Madden, the former pro football coach turned star announcer.

See? I'm not getting too serious.

The grand finale was a party at Rosebud Bar downtown. Turns out one of the bartenders, Val, shares my birthday. (So do Alan Alda, Sarah McLaughlan and the anniversary of the space shuttle Challenger explosion.) They closed down the small restaurant (La Petite Rose) attached to the bar for her party and I got to go.

At one point I went over to the main bar just in time to see a major brawl erupt. Mix an overly crowded bar with drunk patrons and the not so shocking result is that an accidental shove turns into a showdown. I appreciated the attempt to liven up my bash but the police weren't as amused. The night lost a lot of its steam after that.

So did I. I went home, ate one of my specially delivered cupcakes, played guitar and sang to Annie and went to bed.

Y34. Why indeed.

John

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