Today I turn 52 years old (going on 95). I think I'm rapidly becoming the Ebenezer Scrooge of birthdays (Bah! Humbug!), inasmuch I don't regard my own birthdays as cause for anything but to be more depressed than I already am. The attached fuzzy photo is one that I had Dorine take of me (with my cellphone, at the gym) to mark this occasion. I can't help contrasting what I look like from behind now with how I looked just a couple of years ago. The 20-25 lbs. I've put on in the interim -- most of which I gained shortly after our "fateful trip" to the Caribbean in January 2010 -- went right to my midsection and has left me looking every bit as old as I feel. (I guess my legs still look like those of a younger man -- check out the definition in those calves! -- but then they benefit directly from all the "cardio" exercise I do.)
I also can't help noticing how my blog posts have tailed off -- 121 in 2008, 66 in 2009, 47 in 2010, and only 9 or 10 so far this year. I think I've said most of what I had to say, and, feeling as chronically bad as I do, I don't have much energy or will to think of things to write, much less actually to write them.