Me, and my much younger girlfriends.

Not bad, I guess. And better than not getting to be “almost f-ing” 50. But still painful.

I mean, it seems like just yesterday I was “almost f-ing” 40.

Stu, Casey, Cuyler, and me many moons ago at the July 4th parade in Ridgewood.

Looking at this picture, taken in what had to be 200 degree heat, I’m reminded of the good old days of working ’round the clock, tending to Cryler, I mean, Cuyler, trying to squeeze in time with Casey (and whoever the big guy is on the end), and not having a single spare second to do anything about my hair (Roots are for trees, Suz!) or my hips.

You know, maybe “almost f-ing” 50 isn’t so f-ing bad after all.