Yeeks! I'm late! And on time! Both!

First, the late one: Happy Birthday Dear Sis-in-Law Margarita (Not Her Real Name)!!!!! Hope you are having a fab birthday weekend!

And today is brother Bob's (His Real Name) 102nd birthday. Something like that. He is a LOT older than I am. Actually, only four years older. So he's, um, 43 today. Yeah, that's it. Happy birthday, Dear Bob! If any of my chicks turn out to be roosters, you have first naming privileges. It's the gift that keeps on giving, yet costs nothing. Perfect.

Bob gave me many imaginative gifts back in the day. Once he gave me a super-loud horn that hooked to some kind of air tank, so that I could annoy people more easily. Another time he gave me a salt lick from the feed store. No, we didn't have horses. It was quite a compliment, actually. He thought with my artistic talent that I could carve it into something pretty. I wasn't much of a sculptor, but I did enjoy salty snacks. I kept it on my bedside table for middle of the night salt cravings. Mmmmmmmm, good eatin'.

I have a million Bob stories, and I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations has run out on most of them. Also, his sons are adults and beyond corruption by now, I think.

So there was this one time, when Sky Harbor, the Phoenix airport, was just a little podunk place, and there was no security except for a couple of potbellied elderly guys that would be Wal-Mart greeters in today's world. Bob and I had the "clever" idea of putting weeds or something in Prince Albert cans and going out to the airport, pretending to be selling drugs to each other.

Nobody noticed. But heck, we killed a couple of hours and amused ourselves.

Yes, we were easily amused.