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Saturday, Feb. 16, 2002
When the land was new they say communicating was sometimes done by way of smoke signals.

Thor, Bluto and Outfoxed would have had to get together to work out the signal pattern first, of course. There would have been a signal meeting. I can just about hear how the conversation would go.

Thor: “Okay, Bluto you go to that hill in the east, Outfoxed, you go over there to the west. Get your fires going and send me a message. One puff means hello, two means let’s get together for drinks afterward, three means the Indians are coming and we better get the hell outta here.”

Outfoxed: “My signal blanket is in the washing machine….”

I don’t think sending up smoke signals is nearly as primitive as the state of emailing seems to have become. Here’s a fairly typical morning’s worth of email for me:

Increase the length of your penis 1 to 3 inches in just two weeks!
Lower your cholesterol with this winning plan!
Investment opportunity of a lifetime!
Teens and Farm Animals Here!
Hi! I was in Chat with you last night…
(no, you really weren’t)

I used to dutifully unsubscribe to these worthy missives. It seems that the flood only became worse, with more and more imaginative come-ons. This morning the inbox was full again. I especially like the one entitled “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”

Shucks, I’ve been deleting emails, you insufferable fool.

Today caps a furious round of birthdays to have taken place in the first couple weeks of February. By the way, what is it about February birthdays? Seems like every day someone has one. Those first couple weeks of May must have been decreed as prime mating season. “’Tis the Ides of May, go ye and Procreate.”

It so happens that my middlest child Maggie and Corporate partner Stu have the same birthday. Today. And Maggie is 16! My gosh, I still picture her fresh from a bath, swaddled in a towel, grinning at me as only a 4 year old can grin. And now she wants the keys to a 2,000 pound capsule of steel and rubber so she can go out seeking…I don’t know. What do 16-year-olds go out seeking?

Stu, on the other hand, has no age. He is of the cosmos, the ageless and ancient ones who drift placidly through time and space, bereft of worldly concerns and absently scratching his wizened and altogether serene forehead.

In other words the stubborn goat is older than dirt and just about as attractive.

So, Happy Birthday to two of my favorite people. May your lives be long and filled with the wonder of giving and the joy of friends and family.

Of course, if Stu doesn’t give me back my Shawn Colvin CD’s that he borrowed this may be his last birthday.

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