Has it really been 20 years?

Late on a Thursday evening 20 years ago, during a Karaoke night at a Waterloo watering hole, I got up the courage to chat with a comely young lass who had a beautiful smile and a voice to match.

Two years later, to the day, we became husband and wife.

Twenty years later, she still has that same smile and voice.

Although, technically, we met earlier, that was the first night we actually "met" and actually got to know each other.  We think of the 22nd day of every month as our "monthiversary".

It seems like only yesterday she made my heart race:

• After talking in the car for an hour that first night.
• Two nights later when she fell asleep cuddled up to me with my arm around her.  I so wanted to kiss her on the head but I was too nervious.
• With anticipation at the elevator of her apartment at the numbers made their way to the 15th floor.
• The first time she nervously greeted me wearing a provocative red halter top.  :)

One of the nice things about being able to celebrate your wedding day and the day you met at the same time is those memories wind up never leaving.

Now, 20 years later, I still think of those early days in our relationship and cherish them.  Other relationships around us haven't fared so well.  Make no mistake, ours isn't all milk and honey either, but it's nice to know that two years from now we can still look forward to celebrating another 20th Anniversary.

This gruff old codger is lucky to have you, sweetie.

I love you,

      --Peter

Gerring Old -- OR -- The Numbers Game

Well, another birthday has come and gone.

I don't know why I bother.

Think this will be the last one of my own that I bother to celebrate.

After all, what's the point?

The reality is that one gets to a point in one's life when  it's time to stop making a big deal of it.  It's time to stop thinking about such childish things when the best birthday gift you get is the one you buy for yourself -- including the birthday cake.

This doesn't mean that I will no longer celebrate the birthday of my loved ones.  I guess I'm just at the point where I've come to realize that it's pointless to dream about someone actually giving a shit.

But the real point of this blog posting is to harp on something that I keep hearing.

It's been said your age is just a number.  I call bullshit on that statement.

• It's a number that society uses to determine what you are allowed to do as a youngster.
• It's a number that is used to draw the line that ushers you into adulthood.
• It's a number that determines how much you pay for certain things.
• It's a number that sets people's expectations about you.
• It a number that determines whether or not you can find gainful employment.
• It's a number that determines how long you remain employed.
• It's a number that defines you.

One may feel far younger than one's physical age but one's age essentially defines one's status in life, based on their accomplishments at a given age.

Now that I'm of that age where I'm closer to finding out whether the atheists or religious are correct,  I look back to to life of bad decisions, missed opportunities, huge dissapointments from those I had faith in and situations that didn't materialize, regarless of who is at fault.

Regrets, I've had a ton, but in retrospect, too few to bother with.  One must forge ahead.  I'm not ready to give up completely on everything.

Now it's off to spend some quality time with friends Johnny Walker and someone who just likes to call himself The Beefeater.  Now there's a birthday tradition I think I'll contine.

Why I'm done with facebook!

Yesterday, I finally did it.

I finally closed my Facebook account.  Not that I've been really using for anything in the past few years, but I would sometimes lurk on the pages and waste some time seeing what others have been wasting their time on.

I've been meaning to this for quite some time but have been too lazy to do anything about it.




The straw that broke the camel's back, however, came as I saw a wall posting from my well-meaning but often, security naive better half directly referring to my upcoming birthday explicitly mentioning my age.

This is just plain unacceptable.

Especially, considering this is coming from the same person who, upon signing up for Facebook herself, told me that she made a point of putting the wrong year in her birth date, not to make her look younger, but for security reasons and to preserve her privacy and security.

I suppose mine doesn't matter.

But I digress.

And I think where this is where the biggest problems lay with Facebook.  I find it fascinating that people are willing to lay their lives out for everyone to see.  The concept of having a personal life that is, well, personal seems to have completely left the building.

What really bugs me about Facebook:

The lack of personal communication.

Now, I'm not so old fashioned as to think you need to whip out the quill and starting writing in your best cursive script on linen parchment to get my attention.  E-mail is just fine.  It is a personal connection between the writer and me.

My e-mail address is easy to discover.  I'm disappointed in the people who would contact me on facebook when they can just send me an e-mail.  A personal Facebook message just doesn't cut it.  For some reason, there is a connection with e-mail that doesn't exist in a Facebook message.  I guess I'm just old fashioned.

The "like" button

Ok.  It's all fine and well to say you like something, but what if you think the statement made is utterly ridiculous, inane or otherwise ill thought out?  I'd prefer to see more buttons added such as:

• I hate this
• Have you actually thought about it?
• Do you really believe what you just wrote?
• Are you fucking nuts?

Bottom line is, I really don't give a flying fuck what anyone likes.

Tagging

I find it scary that someone can take my picture, post it somewhere and say, "That's what he looks like."

Perhaps consideration should be given to the small children and domestic animals who might see the picture and be otherwise scarred for life.

But seriously, if you took a picture of me, I'd appreciate at least asking for permission before throwing my likeness onto the Internet for all to see.  Unlike so many people, I value my privacy.

Checking In

Aside from the fact that I don't really care, (see the "like" button) it worries me when I see people who live alone are checking in somewhere.  I'm basically an honest person but to someone else it's saying.  I'm not home, please come over and help yourself to my things.

And the worst part is, whatever you do, is all owned, lock stock and barrel, by Facebook to do with as they see fit.

Sorry.  I've had it.