Funny Guy Fifty... I mean... Friday...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband, Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     Cheryl and the kids went to Newport, Rhode Island, last weekend, so I was home alone. I hate being home alone, so I did what I always do when I am alone... I try to find people to hang out with.
     On Saturday, I had a date with my mom. I called her and told her to pick any restaurant that she wanted, and I would pick her up and show her a good time.
    You may be thinking... any restaurant, huh? What a great son! This could cost him some big bucks!
    If you're thinking this, you don't know my mother. She was going to pick either the Outback or Panera. We always go to the Outback or Panera.
    Sure enough, she picked the Outback because she had a coupon.
    I said, No, Mom, we are not going to the Outback. We are going to go some place different. Do you like crab cakes? 
    Yes, but that can get expensive... I have a coupon for the Outback.
    No, we are going to a little place called Stoney's.  It's on the water, and I hear that they have good crab cakes. 
    Do you have a coupon?
    No Mom! No coupons. Get in the car.   
    But Stoney's is far away.
    We can talk. 

    As we started down the road, there was a short period of silence, but I came prepared with a great ice-breaker.
    Mom, isn't it hard to believe that your baby is turning fifty this week?  
    You?
    Well, I am your youngest.
    Your oldest sister is going to be 62.
    Whatever! Doesn't it seem like yesterday that you were taking care of me... cooking for me, cleaning for me?   
    You know... I never had to do your sister's laundry.
    Yes, I have heard that. I have heard that you never had to do Michel's laundry, Joe was your beautiful baby, Sheree was like a second mother, Paul is your favorite, Jeff is your best athlete, and I was adopted from the Indians. I have heard it all before. But I am turning 50. How does that make you feel?
     Oh, you were not really adopted from the Indians. Happy Birthday.

     That is right boys and girls: I am fifty years old today, and apparently, I did not come from an Indian Reservation.
     Ah, fifty.
     I have confirmed my age with my wife. A couple of years ago, I kept saying I was 48, and then on my birthday, Cheryl pointed out that I had only been 47, so I got to be 48 for two years in a row.
     See, you can cheat Father Time.     
     The thing is... I don't feel like I am 50. I still go out and do the same things that I did when I was 25. I can still throw batting practice for hours at a time.  I play basketball and softball each week. And I still wrestle with the boys. I do all these things and I feel great.
     Well, let me walk that "feel great" comment back a little bit. My neck and shoulder are both killing me... I get depressed thinking about how much better I used to be at basketball and softball... and most of the time when I am wrestling with the boys, I am lying in bed... hiding... under a pillow... playing possum.
     Oh, and let's not forget that I have to get up to... ahem... "evacuate my bladder"... three times a night. Other than that... I'm in pretty good shape.  
     But still... fifty.
     I was 14 when my father turned 50.
     He seemed so old to me. He didn't like any of my music. He didn't know any of the major league players, much less their batting averages, home run totals or how many runs they drove in. He insisted that I keep my hair short. He listened to talk radio before it was really even invented, and he wore thick-rimmed black glasses that were out of style even then.     
    Oh my gosh... I just realized: I don't like any of my kids' music. I don't know many of today's major league players, their batting averages or their home run and RBI totals. I make my boys get short haircuts. I listen to talk radio. 
     Well, at least I don't wear those silly black-framed glasses! That has to count for something.
     What's that? The dark-framed black glasses are in style now? You mean my Dad was uh... a... uh... uh... MY DAD WAS A TREND-SETTING HIPSTER? 
     Let me repeat that... My dad, with his thick black glasses, was a trend-setting hipster. 
     Cool.

     Well... my date with my mother went great. We enjoyed some delicious crab cakes, saw a beautiful sunset, and to cap off the evening... I smoked my last peace-pipe.
     My mom asked if she could come spend the weekend with me. I advised her that she probably didn't want to come home with me because I was just going to do some laundry and clean up before Cheryl and the kids came home.
     But then I thought... My mother can do five hours of laundry in fifteen minutes... She can still cook... She seems to like to clean... Who am I to deny her this simple request?
      Sure Mom, come on over... and as an added bonus... I will try not to wake you up when I get up to pee!
      So, the week I was turning fifty, my mother cooked for me, cleaned for me, and took care of me. Just like when I was a kid. What a great present!  
      Now, if I can only score some goofy black-rimmed glasses, I'll be set!