First of all, happy birthday Alex Denmon. Getting old. I called Alex at 1:30am today to wish him happy birthday since he tweeted the following at 9pm EST yesterday: @adizz09: "The real question is do I celebrate my birthday at midnight Eastern Time, or Mountain Time? Hmmm?"
I hope my tweet quoting etiquette is up to snuff...
So I decided to find somewhere in the middle to wish the little guy a good one. He sounded really...tired. He must be having a blast out west on his trip. According to various sources he is either in Colorado, Denver, Nevada (Las Vegas), or California. Good times.
It is funny when you are nine years older than one of your brothers. I remember him being so small that he fit into the front pocket of my shirts or would sit on my shoulder swinging his legs back and forth as I strutted around town with my boom box kicking it to beats from Fresh Prince and Vanilla Ice. Maybe even a little MC Hammer.
I also distinctly remember him pooping out whole raisins and feeding them to him to see if he would do it again. He did. Digging further into the memory vault, I recall playing with him and getting into such important fads as Beanie Babies, Tommy-Gotchi, and Giga Pets.
If only he could have understood the power of a slap-bracelet. Or a Glow-Worm. Ah, as the world turns.
But his pooping of the raisins was fun. And gross.
Oh, and grapes. He would poop those whole too. What a freak.
But now, my God, he is almost drinking age. Crazy. I imagine he can now digest fruit fully.
Prior to wishing him happy birthday though I did keep my promise to myself and hammered out another thousand words in my novel. It went smoothly but according to my resident editor it needs some work in spots. So for now the word count is just north of 12,000.
Also, for those of you who are clicking to follow my blog, thank you. Sometimes it only takes the first dozen or fifty to get the ball rolling.