The title for this mornings post was derived as a testimony to my optimistic nature. I recently turned fifty so you do the math.

The first indication I had reached this milestone came with the mail last Friday. That was when I received my application for AARP benefits that included a membership card, a token I gleefully refereed to as my “old fart card”.

In celebration my dear wife made me a wonderful Mexican dinner and the kids, my son, his wife, their daughter, and my sons adopted BIG brother, “Big Louie”, stopped by. As always my wife had more than enough to feed anyone who stops at the house.

The weekend, as always seems to be the case, was a busy one. Saturday was a half day at the office followed with several hours working on photos and attempting to resolve issues with Filezilla. This has become my latest technological nightmare as it is the required manner for submission for material to the publisher.

The day was rounded out by helping David, my son, pick up some furniture for the new house they will be moving into this weekend. Again, Barney was brought out of retirement for a little light work.

The original plans for Sunday called for me to fill in for Pastor Harlan Dennis in Peach Springs. Public speaking is not my strong point but as I intimately know most everyone at the church there, it is more like a friendly gathering at the house.

Instead we, my son and I, spent the morning recovering an abandoned Penske truck in Lake Havasu City. This desert community occupies the top four places on my list of least desirable places to visit, live in, or talk fondly of.

We were quite blessed as we were able to hit the road early and beat the record setting heat of the afternoon. As a result it was a mere ninety degrees by the time we hit town.

The landlord had neglected to prepare the cooler at the kids house so we had them over Sunday afternoon. With temperatures pushing 105 degrees the last place to be hanging out is an old trailer.

Monday, my official day off from the office, was spent running errands for mother, helping my wife with a couple of projects, a stop at Mr. D’z, and a half dozen hours working on the next book, Ghost Towns of the Southwest. With a fast approaching deadline of September 1, there is a sense of urgency to get a rhythm going on this project.

So far the first stop towards the golden years seems to be business as usual. There is, however, a sense of excitement and anticipation. After all the first half of this life has been a wild ride and there is no indication the second half will be any different.