“Age has no reality except in the physical world. The essence of a human being is resistant to the passage of time. Our inner lives are eternal, which is to say that our spirits remain as youthful and vigorous as when we were in full bloom. Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and omega. An end in itself.”

― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Chole

So, I made it to seventy; let’s see how far I can go. I’m feeling good (this morning’s BP was 120/68), and I’m still enjoying beer life, so I’m optimistic about the future, unknown though it may be. Only way to find out is to live it while you got it, and that’s my plan. Thanks for coming along for the ride here at LTG.

Party prep is in full swing around here this morning. The kitchen is full of Swan’s family members preparing a smorgasbord of dining options, and Swan is at the party venue decorating. I hope the turnout this afternoon (we start at 4 p.m.) warrants the time, effort, and money invested in this event. We shall see, but I’ll be downing Zero’s, eating, and enjoying the beach vibe no matter what.

My Facebook has been exploding with birthday greetings from friends far and near, and it is nice to be remembered. All the folks I’ve been supporting have made sure to remind me that my help is greatly appreciated, and they hope I continue to prosper with a long life. Maybe the sweetest message was from Ericka, the young college student I’ve been assisting with school expenses (and briefly dated a while back):

Anyway, when I moved to the Philippines, one of my goals was to make life better for some, and I’ve accomplished that. School money for a kid in Bohol, help for a cancer patient in Manila, monthly support for the mountain mama here in Barretto, the aforementioned Ericka, and the street dweller I call “mama” are the main recipients of my charity budget. See, I don’t even count those teeth I’m rotting amongst the local children. Anyway, the point is my life isn’t entirely pointless. It is good to make a difference, even in a small way.

In other news, my caregiver/helper, Teri, will be departing my employ tomorrow. She’s been with me since I first arrived in the PI over seven years ago. Teri needs to return to Manila to care for her parents, and I’m sure they will be in good hands. I’ll miss having Teri around to make my life easy, but Swan has taken on the task of finding a replacement.

Okay, let me share some photos from my final day as a sixty-nine-year-old.

It was still too early to go home, even by my low standards, so we paid the very rare visit to Snackbar on our way home.

When the birthday morning dawned, everyone got back to work.

I’m honored that so many are working so hard to make the start of my seventieth year a special one. I’ll share the results in tomorrow’s post.

In a Memorial Day post from May 2012 of the LTG archives, I shared the story of my Great Uncle Frank (grandmom’s brother), who lost his life in the final days of WWII. As my grandmother Pernie used to say about “blood and guts” General Patton: Patton’s guts, Frank’s blood.

In a coincidence I didn’t remember, I celebrated my birthday four years ago at the eatery I’d helped my former girlfriend open, which was located at the same venue we are using for tonight’s celebration. We expect Marissa’s twin sister will be attending tonight to add to the old times flavor.

If you’ve been looking for an update on the asshole vlogger, Vitaly, here you go. He’s screwed, and he knows it, and no one seems to care. FAFO defined.

As usual, we’ll close with me trying to be funny:

An old cowboy wandered into a Starbucks one afternoon, ordered himself a black coffee, and settled into a corner seat. He leaned back, tipped his hat up, and took a slow, contented sip.

Before long, a young woman sat beside him and asked, “Excuse me, sir—are you a real cowboy?”

The old man thought for a moment and replied, “Well, I reckon so. I’ve spent my whole life ridin’ horses, herdin’ cattle, mendin’ fences, brandin’ calves, sleepin’ out under the stars, and workin’ the land. So yeah, I suppose you could call me a cowboy.”

The young woman smiled and said, “I’m a lesbian. Pretty much all I ever think about is women—when I wake up, when I shower, when I eat, when I work… it’s always women on my mind.”

The cowboy gave a respectful nod, and they both went back to their drinks.

A little while later, another man came in, took the seat on the cowboy’s other side, and asked, “So, are you a real cowboy?”

The old man paused, stared into his coffee, and said, “Well… I always thought I was. But after today… I think I might actually be a lesbian.”

I’ve been a lesbian trapped in a man’s body since I was a teenager. I love women!

Anyway, you are only as old as you feel. I’m not sure what that makes me, but I don’t feel seventy.