Double Nickels!

Or, as my beloved youngest, and CasinoRat in Training, likes to shout, "Ten the hard way!" 

Law's a mighty, Miss Esther.  I'm pretty sure that a person's brain gets to, like, 35 or so, and then refuses to think any older.  There are reminders, of course.  I used to remember virtually everything, and now, after a second glass of a late harvest gewurtztraminer I have to look up my own phone number.  Doon good though, doon good.  Playing the best golf of my life, have access to some of the best, most creative music since the mid-sixties, I have the best, most dependable and loyal friends, and man o man, having grandchildren is the true reward for having had to put up with two "how sharper than a serpent's tooth" daughters, who eventually turned out pretty ok, too. 

And their mother.  For her it's been a thirty-five year walk in the park on a spring day.  For me it's been day after day after day of relentless enthusiasm, good cheer, laughter, friendship and a love that, seemingly impossibly, continues to grow stronger.  I am one happy geezer-to-be.  Jeez, just realized that, as of about 7:30 tonight, Central Standard Time, I'll be closer to sixty than to fifty.  OK then.