Somewhere along the line I lost year.

It goes like this. My wife asked what I would like for my birthday (1/6 scale Sideshow Collectibles C-3PO with light up eyes, full articulation and bonus com-link!) when my age came up.

“48! Guess you’re an old man now!” she said jokingly.

“48? I’ll be 47.” I replied. Adding a year to my age . . . HILARIOUS!

“No Honey. You’ll be 48. We’re 47 now.

don't let the sun go . . . you know the rest

don’t let the sun go . . . you know the rest

Wait a minute… was she right? She is three months my junior, so keeping track of each others birthdays has always been easy enough. Additionally, she is much more in touch with these kind of things then I am. Was I really about to hit 48 after thinking for I was rolling up on 47? HOLY HELL! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?

To be honest, I do not think of myself as forty anything and I stopped keeping track of how old I am after I came home from Iraq.

* NOTE * If you want to gain a real understanding of time and just how slowly it crawls along, spend a year and a half in the desert.

In my head I’m somewhere around 19 or 20. I can throw a baseball from third to first with no problem. I ride my bike for miles and never suffer from the effects of “rubber legs”. I eat all the junk food and never gain a pound. In my head anyway…

Somedays I don’t recognize the person squinting back at me in the bathroom mirror. That certainly isn’t me. That grey haired, angry-looking, reading glasses wearing, bad back and ruined knees person looks more like my Father! Sounds like him too! LOOK AWAY! LOOK AWAY!

I’ve never thought of myself as “mature”. When does that happen? When do you start to feel that way? Are you supposed to wake up on your 48th birthday and say out loud, “I’M MATURE NOW! I”LL BE TAKING MY GERITOL and PRUNE JUICE IN THE SITTING ROOM!” If that’s how it goes, that ain’t happenin’ here.

even Darth Vader has no idea how old he is sometimes

even Darth Vader has no idea how old he is sometimes

Aside from riding my bike, my favorite hobby is toy photography. Not landscape, not portrait, not architecture. Not anything that would be considered “regular” or even, “mature”, by grown-ups outside of the toy photography world. Maybe my love of toys, figures, Star Wars and all the rest can be attributed to my unconscious refusal to grow up all the way. Perhaps the drive behind trying to take the best photos of toys that I can, comes from that lack of feeling old. I’m not sure.

I am a bit worried that one day OLD will fall on me like the proverbial ton of bricks. Out of no where I’ll prefer to have “supper” around three-thirty, go to bed around eight and wake-up the next morning at four in the morning, ready for a day of going to the pharmacy and telling kids to stay off my lawn. I hope not, but you never know.

In the mean time, I’m gonna go take some pictures . . . of toys.




thank you to everyone that took a moment yesterday on Facebook and Instagram to wish me a happy birthday. I’m truly fortunate to have made so many friends from all over the world