As some of you know, yesterday was my birthday (and for those of you who didn’t, what the hell, man? It’s like I’m not even one of the most important people in your life anymore. That’s just hurtful). I turned 53, and it was one of the best birthdays ever. First, I did a little birthday shopping for Jess (she is lovely and talented, but not always great at buying gifts, so I thought I’d do her a solid and do the birthday shopping for her ((also, as you can see, I haven’t lost my love of parenthesis))).

She got me some new albums by the Wood Brothers and by the Hard Working Americans, both great bands I’ve just found. Then, on my actual birthday, I had a pretty doggone good day. We got up and went to church, survived another board meeting, and went to lunch with friends. My friend Garth got me wound up talking about Trump, and sat back to watch (I mean, who doesn’t enjoy dinner and a show?). We got through lunch without me making too much of an ass of myself, and then came the only low point of the day: going to Walmart.

I really, really hate going to Walmart. However, since the object of this distasteful task was ice cream cake, I didn’t pout too much. Then we got home, and I got what every man on earth wants for their birthday — to sleep with the most beautiful woman on earth. The gorgeous and equally somnolent Jess and I got stuck into one seriously intense Sunday afternoon nap. It was awesome, and just what I needed. Jess enjoyed it too. Sadly, I can’t nap like I used to, so it only lasted about 3 hours (it’s sad when your stamina starts to go), but sometimes you’ve just gotta be thankful for what you get.

After the nap (and in case you’re thinking I’m using the word “nap” as a metaphor for something else, I’m not. Get your mind out of the gutter!), we had some leftovers, watched a couple movies, and went back to bed, and I read a couple more chapters of A. Lee Martinez‘ new book, Constance Verity Saves the World, an excellently funny book with a lot of heart, by one of my favorite living authors.

Then I went to sleep. It was a great birthday.

See, I like the unimportant birthdays (well, less-important ones anyway. They’re all important. If you don’t think so, try not having anymore). The big ones, the milestones like turning 40, 50, 60, etc., are a pain in the ass (often literally, because there’s always some jackass who thinks it’d be funny to whack you the appropriate number of times ((while I appreciate the thought, and under normal circumstances, you have to pay extra for that, I’ve reached the age where by the end, it’s just boring and painful))). Everyone also feels obligated to point out to you repeatedly and loudly that you’re one step closer to impending infirmity and death. Granted they still do that on regular birthdays, but they’re much less insistent about it, and easier to ignore.

It’s also nice, because there’s no company involved, which means I’m free to indulge my newly expanded, no-pants policy (basically it’s No-Pants Friday applied to all the other days of the week).

If you do ’em right, the less milestoney birthdays are just like regular days, only most people try to be a little nicer to you, and you get cake. There are no colorful banners announcing to the world that you’re becoming increasingly irrelevant, no boisterous well-wishers gleefully reminding you that you’re a lot closer to death than you used to be, no mess to clean up, no muss, no fuss. The biggest downside is having to respond to a large number of “Happy Birthday” posts on the Facebook, but you can even put that off a day or two.

Of course, I suppose having birthdays that are pretty much just like regular days is only good if your regular days are pretty doggone good themselves. I’m one of the lucky ones. Sometimes I forget it, but then I look at the life I have vs the life I probably deserve, and realize that pretty much everyday is a birthday, and I’d be a fool not to be grateful. As the great Ray Wylie Hubbard said, in his song “Mother Blues” (a song that I really relate to), “The days when I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations . . . well, I have really good days.”

Also, while there’s no need for you to get me anything, but you might want to get yourself a little something in honor of this auspicious day: I recommend my novel, Thumperica! A novel of the Ghost of America Future (you didn’t really think you were going to get through this without a plug for that did you?). It’s available on Amazon. Heck, if you’ve got Kindle Unlimited, you can read it for free!

Also, also, do yourself a favor and check out the links to the Wood Brothers, Hard Working Americans, Ray Wylie Hubbard, and A. Lee Martinez.