44 Sucks...

I'm not going to bitch, but 44 sucks.  I turned 44 in February and between arthritis, costocondritis, and a pulled neck muscle, I rarely have days that are pain free.  Yet, I still feel lucky.  But I'm not the blessings counting kind of guy--I just know I have it better than a lot of other people on this big green and blue ball we call Earth.

I've got the Missus who is the most dedicated, persevering person that I know.  I've got a spare fridge almost overflowing with great craft beer (and a few holdouts from St. Patrick's Day).  I've started writing full time and am loving it.  Did I just count blessings?

Anyway, it's Friday and the weekend is here.  I'm going to put in 4-6 hours today on a new story (another robot story), and a longer piece that I'm currently calling The Portrait (an homage to Oscar Wilde's only novel).

It's not even 9am, but I'm already thinking about the day's first beer.  It's not far off.  I think the first victim will be a Sam Adams Blueberry Hill Lager.  I'll give a full review of the beer next week.

On Monday or Tuesday I will post a few paragraphs from a story I finished called Killing Machine.

Have a great weekend.  I'm going to.