I’ve come to terms with my age.
At least for this week.

I’ve even decided there’s a few good things about our elder years.

Something for you to look forward to.

Write these in your diary and then look at them in a bunch of years.

I generally give less of a damn about what people think of me.
A skill I wish I had in my 20’s when some lady turned me down for a dance at the local Friday night hangout.

9:00 pm has become a socially acceptable bedtime.

Gossip bothers me way less now.
I still like to hear the dirt on people though.

I don’t feel the need to join every single new social media network.
However, people can join this blog if they want too.

All my friends are just as tired as I am.

I have no problem telling people to go jump in a lake if they make me grumpy.

Getting ready now takes less than 5 minutes because I wear what’s comfortable and not too dirty.

If I have a crush on someone, I just tell them.
They like to hear it because they think I’m harmless.

Sadly I admit they are probably right.

I ponder my late teens and wonder what the hell was I thinking.

Vacations don’t have to involve any plans besides naps.

I’ve learned to take everything a lot less personally.

I guess that’s why us old folks are considered grumpy.

I don’t care.

The wife can be an incredibly cruel person.
One of the worst.

Sometimes I wonder how I could have missed her faults when we first met.

After all these years I thought I knew how to get what I wanted from her.

The woman’s a constant surprise.

Divorce is out of the question.

What lawyer would take a case built around…Dobash Cake?

Share my pain while I explain how she broke my spirit and sent me to the back room, alone and crushed.

The kids come over (usually) every other weekend.

It’s the only time I get to eat high-class because she goes all out for them.

She cooks up a storm and it’s just wonderful.

Outside of putting them to work fixing things, a great dinner is the best reason for kids.

Then it’s back to leftovers and stuff made with chicken.

One set of kids were busy Saturday but the other set showed up at Restaurante Harrington.

The little lady made a provisioning run for dinner and returns with lots of various stuff including…the biggest Dobash cake I have ever seen.

It’s important to understand I love Dobash more than anything, except maybe for my dog that died last year.

To be in the same area with a Dobash is like a 16 year-old with raging hormones in the same room as the most desirable woman in the world.

Not that I remember how that is.

The government won’t admit it – but it belongs at the top of the food pyramid and is a necessary item for healthy living.

I looked at this thing taking up half the kitchen counter.

The aroma of chocolate Dobash made my head swim with desire and anticipation.

Did I mention it was really big?

A small piece wouldn’t be missed and someone needs to test it.
Wouldn’t want the kids to get sick.

I circled around it several times weighing the advantage of a bite of lovely Dobash cake verses the pain if I get caught stealing.

Being forthright, I decided to actually ask rather than steal a piece.
Anyway, that would be hard to hide.

I love it when a plan comes together.

So, batting my eyelashes and looking as cute as I could I said to her, “That’s a big cake. How about just a small taste?”

The heavens opened up and the wrath of the wife poured forth.

“It’s for desert. You stay away from it!”

In other words, go away.

Which I did, until dinner where the cake awaited those that ate all their vegetables.

Finally, six long hours after she brought it home – the moment arrived.

It was crap.

It came from Zippys Napoleon Bakery and it had just one layer.

That’s not a Dobash cake.

A real Dobash cake has two layers with a ton of chocolate pudding type stuff in the middle.

Every bite is supposed to have chocolate yummy stuff overwhelming your brain cells.

This was nothing more than a big, flat cupcake with a very thin layer of frosting.

Zippys has been letting me down a lot lately.

The wife and I made up – she was only looking out for me, wonderful person she is.

But Zippys should know it’s not a good idea to make me grumpy.

The war is on.

UPDATE: The wife says. “Your blog is wrong.”

I never knew she read it – I need to start being careful.

Anyway, she says the Dobash came from Sam’s Club, not Zippys.

Technically she’s right and I bow to her innate sense of fair play and accuracy.

Napoleon’s Bakery is owned by Zippys.

It sell cakes and pies in Sam’s Club and probably Costco too.

So it made a crappy one-layer Dobash for Sam’s Club.

I think it made it with one layer so it didn’t have to put the yummy, chocolate goodness in the middle and could sell it cheaper.

The same thing Zippys did to the Chef Salad I used to buy before they cut back on the good stuff.

That’s what I think and I think I’m right.

No matter where it came from, it was still crappy and I’m still grumpy at Zippys.

Yesterday was National Goof-Off Day.

That’s why I disappeared from the Internet.

I bet you didn’t think there was a day named for just screwing off, did you?

Not that I need one, it does come in handy at work when I do something stupid.

Not that the boss understands.

Goofing off is really a uniquely American thing.

We all know instinctively it means is to pass the time through the most unproductive means possible.

And still get paid.

I strive for at least one episode daily.

I am hugely successful.

Scientific studies have shown that messing around actually makes a person more productive.

Something else the boss doesn’t understand.

But I’m waiting for the last day of the month – March 31st.

It’s national “She’s Funny That Way” Day

A whole day dedicated to my wife, bless her soul.

A day to honor the women in your life who make you laugh…or in my case, who make me shake my head and giggle inside.

This is the lady who wants to put a bathroom in the dog’s daytime cage.

The lady makes me laugh.

If you prefer to pass that up, it’s also Terri’s Day, Take Your Parents to the Playground Day, Bunsen Burner Day, and National Clams on the Half Shell Day.

Something for everyone.

I have a couple of proclamations where the Mayor has named a day after me.

I guess I did something good at one time or another.

The Mayor of any city pumps these things out by the hundreds.

A nice letter gets it started and back in the mail is something suitable for framing, courtesy of the PR department.

Nice idea for a couple getting married.

One was actually done for a couple getting divorced.

I did wonder how they divided that one up.

And if you are a big shot or having a real big shindig, just about any Mayor might possibly deliver it in person.

And make a small speech.

Politics is a funny business.

That’s October 16th by the way.