In twelve days, I turn 38 – something I’m happy about considering I had a heart attack at the age of thirty two. As of today, my age is apparently equivalent of a dog that is ~5.428 years old and I am thus still chasing cats. Such is life.
I beat you by a few months. (But even if I hadn’t, there’s the whole girls-mature-faster-than-boys thing.)
Anyway, with this much lead time, I hope you’re planning an appropriately excellent celebration!
the whole girls-mature-faster-than-boys thing
Ugh. Hearing that again brought back many ugly memories of constant reminders in 6th grade.
In high school, I had this theory that girls matured faster than boys until about 9th grade, at which point they *stopped*. Now that I teach college, I realize that no kids at all mature, ever.
(I also know that from self-inspection at age 37, to be 38 in a month.)
Heart attack at 32? Ouch!
Yes, the girls vs. boys things was gratuitous teasing of one blog-sibling by another. Which probably means:
(1) Girls don’t mature faster than boys, or
(2) I’m not really older than John.
My 36th birthday was this past Saturday. Because of this post, two of my co-workers christened the occasion “The 20th Anniversary of ‘My Super Sweet Sixteen.'” They even got me a new car (a 2005 Hot Wheels® Ford Mustang GT). I was three months premature, so, at the risk of veering into the realm of ID, you might say it’s a “biological miracle” that I’m even here. But enough about me… Happy Birthday Dr. Lynch. I wish you all the best.
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