Newscoma

I am sitting in Chez Coma sneezing as the end of Harvest has kidnapped my nose and is holding it hostage. Oh hay bales, you mysterious intertwined bundles of hell that kidnap my soul each year.

On the other hand, dear farmers of Hoots, thanks for feeding all of us because that is cool.

I have been thinking a lot about getting older this weekend. I guess it’s allowed sometimes. My late mother’s birthday was on Nov. 8th. I usually have a bit of a mortality check around this time of the year. On the way to Nashville, I noticed there is so much more gray in my hair than I even realized.

Now here’s the big secret. I love it.

I think it’s sexy and groovy. I don’t mind that I’m getting older. Yeah, I don’t heal as fast I used to but I’ve  earned everyone of those bad boys by being a complete spaz for the last 44 years.

I think it’s glorious.

Now with that said, you freakin’ kids get off my lawn, I need a nap.