Coming up on the Masters Division

Shamefully, I haven't posted nearly as much as I should over the last few months.  Louise has taken on the lion share of Fennell news.  Thinking of news, if we were to write a family newspaper, what would we call it?  "The Fennell Crier"?  Some mornings, yes, that would be appropriate.  "The Fennell Gazette"?  Sounds like "gazelle" which is definitely NOT how I feel after eating too much Nutella.  "The Fennell Times"?  Sounds too much like "Final Times" which is a tad morbid.  Anyway...

Summer has come and gone lickety-split and in a few days, I'll be passing the 40 year old milestone.  By some measure, its just a number.  Between 39 and 41, as Kai reminds us with his daily math announcements.  

But there's also a social component that is hard to escape.  Take running, for instance.  I'll now be a Masters runner.  I always thought of Masters runners as being, you know, OLD guys running in too-short shorts, shuffling through the race, then sprinting towards the finish line in a final blaze of re-lived glory.  Or scary dudes w/o an ounce of humor in them because ounces of humor are wasted weight for a Masters runner that must now crush all other Masters runners (yet oddly not give 2-craps worth to someone even a day younger than 40).

Even the name: Masters runner.  Has a noble ring to it, doesn't it?  Kinda like a Karate Master (someone who trains adult-sized turtles to become ninjas), a Chess Master (someone who is really good at staring at a 10x10 board for hours on end to move oddly shaped pieces in odd directions), or a Master Chef (someone who takes 20min to make scrambled eggs w/ saffron, essence chamomile, and lavender then charges $15.95 + 15% service fee).  So a Master runner must be pretty good at the art of running, no?  Like, someone who has is able to sprint through a dense bamboo forest in the rain, blindfolded, without gathering a speck of mud on the back of their shirt.   Or can run w/ perfect form, like REALLY runs, as opposed to a Novice runner who actually skips, hobbles, and falls most of the time. 

Yeah, "Masters Runner" doesn't quite fit in the same grouping as other "Masters"...

Young kids have it easy with ages.  Every age is associated with some type of milestone.  

5:  Start kindergarten.  

6:  1st grade.  

16: Compare your birthday to Molly Ringwald's and wish you were in a John Hughes movie.

18:  Senior year of high school.  

19:  First year of college.  

19:  OR stick around for ANOTHER year of high school if you live in Canada.  Because some people just can't let go of those magical high school years...  

21:  Legally buy alcohol in the US (usually too much on the first night, or so I hear).  

40:  Pay bills.  Go to work.  Get your smog certification renewed in California.  

Needless to say, the latter birthdays don't have QUITE the punch, zing, or the ancillary benefits the earlier ones do.

Teia, Kai, and Louise have been up to something, so I'm always keen to see what's in store.  My usual spy is Teia.  She'll happily tell me she wrapped some gifts and its a secret.   

Me:  What is the secret, T?

T:  Oh!  Its a shirt!  And some shoes!  And a watch!  And....

Louise: Teia Autumn!!! 

 (actually, she normally yells at me, because I know Teia's going to spill the beans and its a little unfair of me to take advantage of our anti-poker faced Peach.   Of our two kids, Kai has the best chances of becoming a professional poker player, Teia not so much)

A few weeks ago, Louise asked if I wanted anything special for this birthday.  I have to admit, I came up pretty blank.  No epic mtn bike rides, no ski trips, no sports car.  (we are going to go on a large sailboat for a few hours).  Instead, I realized I already have all the best gifts in our little home - an amazing & loving wife, two awesome kids, a broken couch that is now at a very comfortable angle for typing future blog posts, roof, food, bed, Nutella.  We're really quite lucky; everyday is a day to be grateful and enjoy.