The man teaches Sunday School, makes presentations to multitudes of people for work, was recently recognized for his hard work and given a major award (cue Christmas Story music) but he absolutely loathes to be the center of attention. Therefore, I took it upon myself to spread the word as I walked in late to church on Sunday and whispered in passing to every member of the congregation, "It's Scott's birthday today. Pass it on." One dear, stupid man actually asked me what I was going to give him for his birthday. I was already talking to my friend, Kaye, and bit my tongue answering only vaguely, "Oh, you know. Golf balls." Then I followed Kaye home before I spontaneously imploded to make my smarty pants remark. Thanks, Kaye. And you're right, of course. The shimmy makes the answer that much sweeter.
This is what happens when you realize you don't have any birthday candles. Let us take a moment and celebrate (not mock) that Garage Sales do not only have trash. Case in point.
I don't know who started it.
But I know who ended it.
Two of the three in the back row are standing on their tippie toes.
Happy birthday, Old Man.
Only two years away from your colonoscopy.
Yes. . . that was certainly a stupid question! You are such a riot!
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