it's a Sunday miracle

I'm blogging.

The more time that passes, I don't enjoy being around the 20 year old college girls with their 20 inch waists and 20 inches of hair.

I do enjoy it in the moment, until I get home and look at the pictures. Pictures which I won't be posting here.

Me, in all my thirty-something glory. Not so bad, if I do say so myself. I exercise. I eat right, I exercise. That's right, I said it twice. I hate to exercise so I should get that much more credit for it. But when you look at me next to them, it's not a pretty picture.

But someday time will catch up with them as well, and they will no longer be able to eat the Hostess Donettes either. You know, the really good chocolate or powdered sugar donuts that have got to be little circles of trans-fat, and wash them down with a real Dr. Pepper or a glass of real, full-fat chocolate milk.

Of course when time catches up with them, I'll be dead.

I hope there are Donettes in heaven. And no treadmills. And no 20 year olds.

Amen.