I love December. For a few fleeting weeks I get interesting stuff in my mailbox. No political postcards, no adds to change my supplemental insurance; instead I get cards - Christmas cards and birthday cards, also little slips of paper that say I have a parcel (I love that word parcel) in the main office. It's fun and makes a refreshing change. Not saying how old I'll be next Sunday but the melody of "76 Trombones" keeps running through my mind. Actually that's more upbeat than last year when the phrase 'three quarters of a century' was haunting me. Funniest birthday card today: on the front - 'Turning your age is a lot like frying bacon in the nude." Inside - "You know it's gonna hurt, but you're not sure exactly where."
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