Hey Jakey,

I was deliciously naughty all day today. Today being my first full day of living with that awful number: 38.

I had a 9am meeting in Reno this morning, but it was called off on account of snow and more snow, and whiteout conditions on the highways. So I "worked from home." Meaning I went to a movie, shopped and had lunch.

Like I told daddy this morning before I left the house, I'm "making hay while the sun shines." Which is an old person's way of saying that opportunities to take a middle-of-the-work-week ME day don't present themselves very often, so I was going to take advantage of it.

Went to a late morning showing of "The Hills Have Eyes." I mean, it was the ONLY movie playing at our little multi-plex that I felt I could stomach. My choices were some stupid chick-flick comedy with Matthew McConaghy (sp!), The Pink Panther remake, and several other shit movies. Anyway, "Hills" was B-R-U-T-A-L. I liked it. A lot. It was just hard to watch. The body count was amazing. And it had the cute blonde girl from "Lost" in it, the one who plays Claire, and she had an American accent. Did I mention that this movie was brutal? Also, medium (yes MEDIUM!) popcorn and large diet.

Then, shoe shopping and trips to Blockbuster and RiteAid.



Then off to the Carson Valley Inn for a late lunch. This is the only restaurant in Minden-Gardnerville in which I feel comfortable dining alone. And here's my super-secret tip for anyone who dines at the coffee shop: ask for a seat in the smoking section, even if you do not smoke. The smoking section is light and airy with windows and room to stretch out, and it's usually not at all crowded back there. In the non-smoking section, tables and booths are crammed in like sardines, and it's dark and claustrophobic, and it STILL reeks of cigarettes, because it's a CASINO! So, take it from me.... smoking section.

I ordered the Monte Cristo. Do you know what a Monte Cristo is? It's a ham-turkey-swiss sandwich that's been dipped in batter and deep-fried! Sprinkled with powdered sugar and dipped in berry syrup! Ugh! Sounds horrible! Sounds like cardiac arrest on a plate, especially when paired with fries, no? Oh.... heaven.

The jock-like person hunched over his table in the picture above is Alex. He's reading Harry Potter. He has 11 pages to finish before his test later in the afternoon. He needs to get his adult high-school diploma before the week is up, because he's shipping off to Marine Corps boot camp on Saturday, and the Marines won't take him without that diploma. He thinks that boys in the military should be allowed to drink before the age of 21, because they might just die in battle, never knowing what it's like to be wasted. Recently, he himself got wasted while working his shift at the grocery store. He vomited and vomited and eventually passed out in the park. But he never has hangovers. He does feel the need, however, to take three to four massive shits the morning after, then he feels all right.

He told me all of this, and much much more, as I munched on my Monte Cristo and dipped my fries in ranch dressing. Sweet kid. Chatty. 18 years old at the most. Reading Harry Potter and gushing about the movies. He finally said, "Damn you!" and returned to his reading. I guess I had distracted him.

Now that I think about it, I should've grabbed his book and tossed it out the window. Maybe he'd flunk his test. Not get his diploma. Not ship off to San Diego this weekend. Not die at a roadblock ambush in Fallujah. Instead, I wished him luck on his test, and luck in the Marines, and told him not to go and do something stupid like get shot or something. Then I paid my check and left.

Chance encounters like this make me want to avoid the local newspaper for awhile. It'll break my heart if I see his name there sometime down the line, listing off his survivors, hailed as a hometown hero.

Bah. He seemed quick and smart and savvy. He'll do fine.

So... three days actually of celebrating my birthday. Sunday with you and daddy, and we went, where else, to Sizzler! You ate like a little piggy again. Well, all of us did, really.



Then Monday, half-day at work, half-day playing with you and daddy again, full day of listening to Cracker's "Happy Birthday to Me," now a 13-year-old tradition. P sent me home early on account of it being my birthday, so I came home and you and I and daddy went to the park and played basketball, then got some pizza. Then today was a me-day. Tomorrow all will be back to normal, except I will be in my late thirties, rather than my mid-thirties. Oh, and I'll have three days worth of eating crap food that I will have to atone for.

Love you, Jake! Sleep well!