Back at home base

 

And stumbling sprawling through the doorway. Seems familiar somehow. Oh yeah, been there, done that; both as the sprawler and the sprawlee. Alcohol was generally involved, but at least (thus far) none of us have actually been bleeding.

Personally, I got so proficient at the ingestion of ethanol that I decided it was pointless to continue refining my skill; I ceased competing in that arena some seventeen years or so back. The offspring, however, still find it has entertainment value at times. As long as they’re not driving; that’s all I ask.

I can still come sprawling through doorways, but usually it’s because the tennis balls on the front of my walker get caught on the doorjamb. (As you read these words, I am in the process of qualifying for Denny’s Senior Special, so I am currently feeling a bit more decrepit than usual.)

I was actually considering holding my birthday celebration at Denny’s. I mean, why deny it?  Why not own it? Double nickels, dude, right there on the ol’ DL. Bring out the Methuselah menu, infant, and make it snappy — I’ve got one foot in the grave already!

(I have to admit I’m a little curious to see if Google’s Adsense plasters this page with Denny’s ads.)

However, I actually went into the local Denny’s to check out what the Senior Specials consisted of, and I’m afraid they just didn’t appeal. As a friend of mine put it, it’s like a kid’s menu for old people.  Sorry guys, but I’ve still got teeth. They may all be the product of modern dentistry, but they work. And so do my taste buds. If I’m going to indulge in actual eating, I want something a little more dramatic than spaghetti. So we’ll probably go out for Mexican or Japanese or Indian. Long as wherever we go, it’s close enough so I can get back home early.

Got to chase those damn kids off my lawn.

— Bob out