The occasion is my 30th birthday and if you trust the balloon, I'm already gone...over the hill...washed up...five and a half feet under and sinking...kaput. Well, after a couple years of marriage I thought that might be true, but those thoughts I was keeping to myself at the time. At least the cake says "We love you." Actually, it was a nice party and a reminder of some of the better days in Ohio. With me is Brandon Dyer, son of my good friend Leigh, who I miss dearly. Now I'm rapidly closing in on forty. What will the balloons say then? "Candidate for Geritol", "Got Viagra", "Honey, where's my cane?". I suppose we'll find out soon enough.

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