SPOOKED!

"Knock,Knock!" "Who's there?" "Boo!"... "Boo who?"... "Oh quit cryin' or I'm not playing this game anymore!"

Well, FELLOW VILLAGERS:

The time is nigh. Halloween is upon us and folks are figurin' out what to wear to the costume party. So, in the "spirit" of the season, might we bow and recall that on this occasion, it is 70 years ago that our beloved CHAPPELL HILL CAFE came to be and has provided our LOVELY VILLAGE with cheerful smiles, good food and the small town barometer of who's good and who's bad! If ever in doubt, "Are you a Good Witch or a Bad Witch?" take a seat at 70 our beloved CHAPPELL HILL CAFE and you will soon know. It will be apparent by the temperature of your coffee and how high the waitresses have arched their backs.

Now, I'm informed that 70 our beloved CHAPPELL HILL CAFE ,is, in fact, HAUNTED! A ghost's movements are captured in a framed picture that is hung on a wall of the Cafe wandering the restaurant. A friendly ghost, called "Floyd", fondly so it would seem, making sure Mikey was tending the books properly and keepin' customers satisfied. Meanwhile Floyd's keepin' the waitresses somewhat nervous. Our DEAR FRIEND EMILY (AKA Sissy) has made peace with this phantom and they have come to an understanding as to the mutual beneficial interest in the continuing success of the Cafe and marking Big Mike's behavior.

When all this came to light last Sunday after church, our collective souls proportionally saved, all things considered, the scutter began.

"Pass the salt, and we need more butter" could be heard around the nearby tables as the tales were told. Turns out, there are more than a few haunted places in OUR LOVELY VILLAGE. Eyes began to dart downwards and people were speaking in whisper. Some claim to have video surveillance tape of a ghost haunting a well known bank, and a house of fine repute, graced with TLC and refinement but sports a ghost.

I can't blame the dead. I love it here in our Lovely Village Respecting Chickens. We have more churches per capita than most towns and no shortage of cemeteries. Fertile grounds for those who prefer sheets to a pair of Wranglers. If I were a ghost, rather than a ghost writer, I'd stick around and would dang sure be rattling chains in somebody's attic. I even wrote, as a ghost writer, for a time for two retired OSHA attorneys with several publications including Chain Link Fence Monthly. It took every bit of my creativity to make that subject interesting. You could say I was the "GHOSTESS WITH THE MOSTESS".

There's a difference between being haunted and hosting a ghost. One just follows you around and the other makes you crazy for your Dirty Deeds. Either way, its a ghost and you have to come to terms with your own special spector. Its not enough to throw a white sheet over it and call it Casper.

Stop in at the CHAPPELL HILL CAFE next time your around; say hello to Sissy, Sandra and Kathy and tip your hat to "Floyd". As long as he's around, nobody will be spittin' in your tea, least not out loud! And he's keepin' Mike in line, maybe even a straight one on occasion. Emily has a friend in poor old Floyd and in spite of claims of the "super"-"natural", she is loved by all.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO CHAPPELL HILL CAFE! 70 YEARS AND STILL GOIN'!

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SOY SAUCE!!! Mao Tse Tung-in-Cheek

FELLOW VILLAGERS:

A few days ago I contacted MY DEAR HUSBAND just before he embarked on his journey home from the wilds of the work force and nearly frightened him with those dreaded words, "Hey! I've got an idea!"

I had this intense craving for Chinese food, real Chinese food, of which Our Lovely Village is glaringly without. Pot stickers!, Fried Rice!, Kung Pao Chicken! Spicy Orange Beef! Egg Rolls! Hot and Sour Soup! Won Tons! YUM! So, panting and salivating like a pregnant woman in dire need of pickles and pistachio ice cream, I prevailed upon him to bring home some Chinese take-out. I anxiously honed and whittled our chopsticks in anticipation of the taste and aroma. Checking to make sure we had plenty of Soy Sauce, it occured to me; Yeah, Perfect! The old Robbies could be a Chinese food restaurant! Surely, "Sum Yung Guy" could make a go of it and Hey! They could even "Wok Around the Block" for delivery to us Villagers who've been deprived of the Asian fare. It seems almost fool proof!

As we casually dined on our Chinese take-out, our momentary bliss was blown by the stunning appearance on television of Anita Dunn, the 'acting' Chief White House Communications Advisor giving an address at some sort of commencement. Now I will tell you that its just darn near impossible to get between me and my pot stickers. In fact, I love them so much MY DEAR HUSBAND and I once lured the children to our favorite Chinese haunt and we challenged them to see who could eat the most of them. Great fun! The jury is still out on who actually won, depending on who you ask.

But on this night, as we watched Anita Dunn drooling over her favorite philosophers, Mao and Mother Theresa, I must confess, I dropped my dumpling. ( much to the delight of my beloved Dawg).

First off, that is, at the very least, a really weird combination. I doubt there's a Chinese restaurant, or any other for that matter, hawking such a combo platter. Lemme see; okay, first we torture them, kill off the ones we can and then minister to them and tell them God loves them and they are precious creatures. Ms. Dunn is, shall we say, confused, at best. But because her idiocy cost me a dumpling, I am thinking more along the lines of a psychological disorder. Not only what she said was strange but her delivery was suspicious. Talk about "Take-Out"!

Now we learn that Our Fearless Leader and Champion of Change will soon be heading to Asia. There is a fierce debate over what type of souvenir there will be for this trip. Talk swirling about Mao-Bama T-shirts and posters of Obama in a communist uniform. I suppose the possibilities are endless and a few folks will most likely make a few bucks on the whole thing. But if you come across a T-shirt that suits you just right, check the tag and see if it says Made in China, it might sway your decision.

As far as the idea for a Chinese Food Restaurant at the old Robbies site, I still think it could work. They'll have to get creative with the menu..."The Mao-Bama Special", "The Mao/Mother Deluxe", "Socialism Soup with a Side of Tender Theresa". And at the end of your meal, they could provide the complimentary "Mis-Fortune" cookies.

I can't wait! But then I grew up in town where some of the best BBQ was found at a joint called Gingus Khan BBQ. No kidding. I think its still there.

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WHITE-WASH

Recently, my DEAR HUSBAND and I had our humble abode repainted. A nice, fresh coat of white paint, It really spruced the place up...a relatively inexpensive improvement with a simple case of white washing.

Speaking of improvements, hats off to the new owners of the former Wichita House on Main Street. A really nice job! The rest of us VILLAGERS are hoping for an Open House soon, crested jacket required of course to visit House of Im! (Just kidding!) Besides, I checked with JC Penny, Palaise Royal and even Wal-Mart in our friendly, nearby town of Brenham and there apparently has been a run on those jackets.They were all out.

I suspect there are quite a few health care providers, pharmacists, doctors, PA's, LVN's and so on who must be finding themselves a little short on Lab Coats, given the boundless yet insulting latest effort by Our Fearless Champion of CHANGE providing Dr.'s Lab Coats to any and all attending the press conference on the Sacred Lawn in our Nation's Capital in support of Obama-Care.

This man has no shame and an unprecendented kind of arrogance thinking we could be fooled by this stunt. First off, he was flanked by two Docs in lab coats who are known to be among his largest campaign contributors. Over the top obvious in my view. Might he have considered spreading his "message" by giving out free flu shots instead? I mean, we're All For One and One For All!, right? It reminds me of when your friends or family go to some dream vacation spot and were thoughtful enough to bring you a souvenir T-shirt. Imagine its slogan: "ShakIraqADillyac went to the Press Conference for Obama-Care and all I got was a lousy lab coat".

See, now I'm feeling confused. Is it the Green House or the White House? Or are we supposed to wear a (lab)coat of many colors and try to blend in. Maybe its my bent mind, but I'm watching the coverage of this press conference and I see Mr. Obama, head held high in what seemed too close to a sea of white lab coats; KKK's minus the hoods and burning stakes. "Come on in folks! Get your free lab coat, right here! Lab coats for Lab Rats!" Of course, based on recent revelations regarding the Czarahhrea in the not-so-white house, reviewing the white jackets abounding near the rose garden, there doesn't appear to be a "straight jacket" in the bunch.

My father practiced real medicine for 55 years; often it cost him more to treat his patients than he could earn due to the Guvmint medalling in health-care. He never minded, he often accepted a crate of home grown grapefruit or tomatoes or something else that came off the patient's farm. Instead of Pro-duce, today, he might be offered an iPod loaded with "Rap Sheeets" or something. I can feel him spinning in his grave.

Some of you might remember the old TV commercial for cold medicine or aspirin or something featuring a nice looking actor, popular at the time, and he opens the ad by saying, "I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV". Might've been Marcus Welby or something, but I'll go no further as to avoid dating myself other than to speak longingly towards stethoscopes, of all colors.

White paint should be reserved for picket fences and old houses, not for walk-ins on the D.C. set. I have to believe this will all come out in "the wash" in time. Then we can concentrate on stain removal.

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AS THE CROW FLIES

As a child, I can remember being afraid of certain things, mostly imaginary and did not actually reside beneath the bed or lurk within the closet.

As I aged, ungracefully I might add, I found a new fear. CROWS-FEET! Those little lines around the eyes that tell the tale of not only your years but your experience. Some call them wisdom lines, others call them laugh lines...well-earned.

Thankfully, we, in our MOST LOVELY VILLAGE Respecting Chickens, have an annual opportunity to celebrate and enjoy THE SCARECROW FESTIVAL!

How happy to see the Scarecrows stuffed and propped along Main Street in anticipation and welcome for visitors; Vendors hawking their wares and goods, folks milling about, enjoying the advent of Autumn.

However, amongst our celebration and joy of our ScareCrow Festival...Might we remember that the ScareCrow is intended to 'SHOOOO' the black crows that seek to pillage the seeds gracious farmers have sown for another year's harvest. Thus, the necessity of the SCARECROW. The Scarecrow's job was to ward off the invasion of crops by black birds. Adorned in old and colorful clothing, stuffed with hay, propped and poised to stand vigilant against these errant fowls. Our dear departed friend, Alfred Hitchcock, can remind us all of "birds pissed off".

One must wonder, how our latest "Regulatory" Czar with a faux fur Disneyesque animal rights agenda will reconcile this issue while advocating all animals must have the right to an attorney and representation in cases of alleged abuse and horrifically, the opportunity to defend and defy euthanasia. Without opposable thumbs, how will these blessed creatures be able to invoke their right to one phone call? For that matter, lacking the funds to travel to court they even lack the requisite limb to hitchhike their way to the halls of justice. Only to be tarred and feathered.

And if required to testify, will these poor creatures be tied to an interpretor that might just collapse claiming ,"I can't take it (fake it) anymore!" What will we do if we need to provide 'End of Life' Counseling in Barkology or Meowism? Further, will the sufferers of a "simian cleft" be denied treatment for reasons of genus or species?

Finally, there remains the question whether a Village Respecting Chickens can coexist with scardy crows or will there only be room for one rooster in the new regulatory regime? Just exactly who is the cock of the walk?

Make no mistake, I love the SCARECROW FESTIVAL!!! And
I intend to be there with bells on! Come along and enjoy! These wonderful Fall days are fleeting and we need to notice its visitation. See Ya There!


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THE ORDER OF THE ARROW

Not much in this life is more wonderful than a good night's sleep. It slips between our fingers as we age and we sleeplessly worry over a myriad of circumstances and concerns that occupy our lives and our minds. We toss and turn and finally surrender to the break of day and trudge forth again through our somewhat regular routine looking forward to the soft pillow to rest our heads upon when the day is done, and then, again move forward with an odd Blue Plate Special Combo of Optimism with a Side of Grim Palor.

This past Saturday night, I slept so very well, it was almost a crime. Slumber, peaceful sleep and an overall feeling of well-being when I awakened. What, I wondered, was the key to this peaceful sleep!, Can I bottle it, market it and make a fortune? My brow was less furrowed and my teeth less gritted. What was the source of this feeling?, this feeling of that long-gone stranger "HOPE"!

The source was, in a way, the Fountain of Youth. I had the privilege of spending some time with the Boy Scout Troop # 652, bravely camping out in our Lovely Village at the Most Admired Estate of our Neighbor and friend, in an effort to earn their bicycling badge by cycling 25 miles in one day. Also scheduled was an Archery Event, but the inclimate weather shut that part down.

Given the interruption in the programmed events, I figured it would be interesting to visit with these Future Bearers of the Torch Of Freedom about the state of our Nation. Certainly, we can make no mistake how the Boomers and Seniors feel about all this, but the Town Halls and the Tea Parties don't often put their ear to the ground on what the young folks have to say. With all the talk about 'Its about the Children' and 'The Children are our Future', and 'It takes a Village...' Has anybody bothered to ask these fine young kids what they think?! I dusted off the crystal ball and gazed into the minds of the Future Leaders To- Be- In Training. After all, the Boy Scouts is a renowned organization promoting leardership,honesty and responsibility and it would appear that those qualities will be vital to our country.

At first, I paused, and figured I would get a bunch of "I dunno" and "WHATEVER"...BOY was I wrong!

These boys, aged 12-15 years old,( actually on average 13.5 years old, as I was corrected) were not only delightful,well-mannered, informed and well-educated; but more than anxious to be heard about the condition of our country and where its going.

When I began to ask the group some non-leading questions, their individual and collective personalties emerged. None were overly influenced by the others and all seemed to have their feet squarely planted on the ground.

I queried, "What do you like best about coming out to Our Lovely Village? It was a close tie between the scenery, the hills, the variety of road-kill and, oh yeah, the Bluebonnets!

When the topic of discussion focused on more serious issues, I was frankly amazed. These kids KNOW what they're up against. When I asked, "How do you feel about how our goverment system works?" One future torch bearer and his friend gave a friendly punch in the arm to each other and said "Hey, look at us!, We're from different schools. We're rivals! I'm wearing my school shirt and he's wearing his, but we're friends! Why can't the Government work that way?" My heart swelled with the notion that these two can compete and yet find a commonality without rancor.

Daring into deeper issues, the question was how did they forsee themselves repaying the debt accrued by the government, left and waiting for the time when they are young adults and are saddled with the whole mess. How did they feel about the government mortgaging their future with about as much care as a bunch of louts leaving the cracked peanut shells on the bar room floor while feeding themselves on the free pick-up peanuts and washing it down with a cold one. Somebody else will clean it up, right? Some of the scouts were staggered by the numbers but each had a response. Some were very witty and some were rather serious...a range of ideas from "killing all the politicians", "overthrowing the Government", "Texas seceeding" and one comment from no doubt a budding young lawyer who's answer to repaying the debt was,"Simple. Sue the Government". And then there was the scout who clearly had given these topics alot of thought. His facts were correct and he had answers that were cogent and well-delivered. Not surprisingly, this scout is a leader among the troop. Tall, easy on the eye, and an air of professionalism. For a moment I wondered if we had a soon-to-be politician on our hands. So well spoken, and he gave a very straight-foward minor discertation on the evils of Socialism. His position was to stop all government spending and had an expanded view on why Socialism, or in his words, Communism won't work. He said,"A free market can solve problems the government can't". I couldn't resist asking him what he wanted to be when he got through with school. Certain I would hear him placing dubs on some public office, he surpised me. He aims to become a Vegetarian Veternarian. In a confusing way, I felt a little relieved although sharp, bright minds infused into the political arena may be necessary, particulary if the politicians are all killed. I wondered silently how he would cope with the inevitable euthenasia of an animal too badly injured or terminally ill to survive. I surmised he would not indulge in a Death Panel.

We moved on to the topic of End of Life Counseling, and the response was unaminous: "Oh my God, that is SOOO stupid". One young scout of local note declared it wasn't fair for everbody else to pay for "Some bum sitting around watching TV". (I double checked the zipper on my purse to make sure my copy of TV Guide was out of sight!).

We talked about the Cash for Clunkers program, most thought it was a failure, scoffed and laughed at the Cash for Appliances idea and one even suggested a Bucks for Blenders program.

On the issue of the 2nd Amendment, the group became more animated. They were talking mostly all at once on this point but I did catch something about the difference between a bear with a baseball bat and a baby with a spoon. Your guess is as good as mine on that one. And a comparison was made between the innocents having the right to protect and/or defend themselves but that there will always be "malfactors" and banning something only makes it more desirable and will create a dangerous underground market. One pointed out and challenged the others to remember Prohibition and what a huge rebellion it created. I asked if any had read or heard about Speakeasys. One of the younger ones said, "Speakeasy...Yeah that's when your Mom's not yellin' at you". A literal translation, I suppose, but maybe the simple truth in his world.

Anyway, the dicussion trailed off at this point but these young minds were invigorated and they began to bounce their ideas off each other. That made me happy. Its the only place to start with this generation and I hope they will continue to think and exchange ideas and formulate potential solutions for the future that awaits them.

It had been raining most the day and the day before but these guys didn't seem to mind, ankle deep in mud and short of an archery event and no bon-fire. I asked one the adults how they all made it through the rain storms. I was told the young scouts jumped on it and set up camp despite the weather.That's the spirit! As I was leaving, they got back on their bikes for another ride down Old Chappell Hill Road. The 700 or so big-time cyclists attending the annual annual Chappell Hill Bike Ride sponsored by Chappell Hill Bank were gone with their fancy bicycle stuff and their sea of spandex and brightly colored helmets that sort of make them look like a carton of Easter eggs. These young scouts didn't mind, even the one in second-hand tennis shoes with the 25 cent price tag still stuck to the toe. They carried on beaming smiles and echoing laughter and jokes and a little bit of "What's for supper?". Knowing the Host of this event, I'm sure it had something to do with Fajitas, and alot of it, painstakingly grilled, in the rain, in his lean-to smokehouse. A round of applause for the tireless Host and his fellow Troop Leaders/Volunteers!

I really did sleep well that night. With a deep sigh of relaxation I thought, ya know?...there is hope for our civilzation, society, especially with such bright, intellegent and strong young boys like the ones I met from Troop 652, poised to inherit the future. Us older ones should have confidence and reassurance in the eventual passing of the Torch of Freedom and Protection of our Constitutional Rights to individuals such as these. Far as I could see, these are capable hands, thinking, paying attention and straight as an arrow. When they do get that archery badge, we can proudly call them Arrowheads!

Oh, and if I ever have to pitch a tent in the rain, I want these guys on my side, or at least on my speed dial. I'm sorry their archery match was rained out, but make no mistake about these guys; their AIM is true! And in my book, that's a Bull's Eye!
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GREENSLEEVES:

Once upon a time, 'green' was a simple idea. When most of us were comin' up, there was only one green in the Crayola box. We were spared from the confusion, frustration and anxiety of having to discern the difference between Blue Green, Hunter Green, Fir Green, Olive Green, Lime Green, Grass Green, Green Shoots and so on.

Back then, the only words of warning and wisdom about 'green' were delivered in terms like Green with Envy, The Green Eyed Monster, "Don't get on that horse, he's only Green Broke ( which is a couple of bucks short of being broke) and that slimy stuff on whatever it was in the refrigerator that was too old to eat.

Then things changed. Plopped down in front of the color TV, us kids found a deep and abiding affection for Kermit the Frog, a charming, yet woe-begone little green frog with a heart frought with unrequited love for Miss Piggy (a diva-bankster, truly a Material Pig), through Sesame Street and sang along to the sit-com music of Green Acres. And who can forget that first or second guitar lesson where we learned the first few chords of GreenSleeves, which endures even today.

And while some of us felt empathy for poor little Kermit when he crooned "It's Not Easy Being Green" little did we know, or could even imagine, just how true his lament was to become in the case of the current Green Czarist Incarnation.

Today we find ourselves not only still befuddled by the different shades of green, but our Fearless Leader and Champion of Change has provided our country with, what does He call it, The Czar of Green Jobs? If we were to actually have a viable job market not attached to some dwindling life support system, we could call it a Green Jobs Bizarre! Used to be, green jobs meant mowing the lawn or pruning the trees, planting a vegetable garden...honest, wholesome work that would earn you a green back.

Now, not to put too fine a point on it, first off, I'm kinda uncomfortable with this whole Czar thing...(or in this case, this A**hole Czar thing). Do we really need Czars green or otherwise? More importantly, do we need or want such a Czar clearly crippled with the lack of articulation and a pronounced dependence on profanity and vulgarity when referring to others? How does such a person ascend to such a position within the Administration of Complete Salvation and Redemption, Oh, and "CHANGE". Perhaps he has climbed the political ladder or alternatively the proverbial (GREEN) Bean Stalk that Jack did. (No offense intended to JFK).

In our Nation's capital, will we soon be calling the house on Pennsylvania Ave. the GREEN HOUSE? Could this be part of the Green House Effect or is it the source of it?

Kermit was right. It's Not Easy Being Green! And now, our young school children are not struggling over which green Crayon to pull from the box but are further charged with sign painting flattering images of The Fearless Leader, composing letters to themselves on "How Can I Help The President" and memorizing the words to insipid sing-along songs exhaulting the President.

An old cowboy once said "I don't buy green bananas". Good advice it would seem in retrospect. Thankfully, in our Lovely Village, we tend to understand that being green is alot more about protecting our children, preserving our Constitutional rights, standing up for what's right and barking at that which is wrong. Perhaps the Crayola folks can come up with a new color for the box; True Blue-Green.

Listen carefully to what's goin' on. All that glitters is not GREEN!

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BURNING CANDLES AT BOTH ENDS:

A Cake Walk.


So much in this life happens that we wish with all our heart we could take back, change or live-down. Far too much time spent in regret, in my view, but nevertheless, its part and parcel to our "experience".

For instance, on one occasion of the birthday of my Most Cherished Mother, (the actual year of her birth we are not privy to), my sisters and I, with the treasured help of our Nanny, secretly baked her a cake. It was such an event, my sisters fluttering about and our Dear Lannie making sure the frosting was just right. The cake was completed, candles and all, and stowed away in a cabinet in the kitchen awaiting the big moment. All was going well, everyone was prepared and the four of us girls waited with grand anticipation for Mother to return home from the Beauty Shop.

We had it all timed out. Well, really and truly Lannie and my sisters had it all timed out, and when Daddy arrived, his job was to contain the "wild card". Meaning 4 year old me. He came in the front door, glee and excitement all over my sisters' faces, and he immediately scooped me up in his arms in an effort to squelch the enthusiasm. My Mother arrived home, fresh from the Beauty Shop, coifed and curled and sprayed and the moment arrived. Perched on the steps to the breakfast room and kitchen, my sisters prepared for the presentation of the cake. Daddy had a momentary lapse and failed to halt the spontanious outburst of his youngest girl: "I SMELL CAKE!! I SMELL BIRTHDAY CAKE!!!" That was it. Can never be taken back and a surprise Birthday party ruined single-handedly by a four year old.

I'll never live that one down and I am frequently reminded of it...So here's what I suggest:
NO MORE BIRTHDAYS! In fact, as Mayor, I propose a moratorium on birthdays, surprise or otherwise.

*PROCLAMATION AND ORDER*

As of this date, all birthdays beyond the actaul age of 45 shall be

eliminated,unrecognized and regarded as unlawful and without merit of any sort. All good

citizens shall remain 45 years old in perpetua given the age of 45 is just sufficiently beyond

the carelessness and wrecklessness of youth and sufficiently steeped in some wisdom minus

the synicism of a more advanced age.


It is further Decreed and Declared that all Driver's licenses and passports shall be renewed

retroactively and shall report year of birth as 1964. This will eliminate the reviled, of late, so

to speak, proposal of subjecting aging and/or ailing citizens to "End of

Life Options and Counseling".


Alternatively, "Endless Life Options and Counseling" shall be made available through

qualified professionals with services including, but not limited to, "The Proper Use of

Sunscreen"; "Maintaining That Youthful Glow"; "Gray! Gray! Go Away" (a home study

tutorial) and a special series, "The Eternal Flame: How To Keep The Love-Lamp On".(also

available on DVD with musical soundtrack featuring Barry White and Marvin Gaye).


Further Ordered and Decreed, any individual requiring attention to special needs, whether

physical, visual or mental, that are not "age appropriate" will be dealt with with the utmost

consideration and complete discretion.

With regard to Birthday Cake, no restrictions, except the number of birthday candles which

shall not exceed 45.

It is further Ordered that the actual counting of the number of candles be prohibited.

Birthday candles can continue to be "blown out".


Requests for birthdates prior to 1964 shall be considered and contemplated on a case by case

basis. For obvious reasons, this shall be treated as a request for assisted suicide, "first come, first serve", as this can be construed as a time sensitive issue.

SO ORDERED AND DECREED BY THE OFFICE OF THE MAYOR
***********************************************

(Ladies!, Think of the money we'll save on anti-aging eye cream and face lifts!! 75 will be the new 45! Hey, the Guvmint lies all the time, we can surely take a dusty leaf from that book and lie about our age and I, for one, will want to see proof of just how old this "counselor" is while advising me of the most cost-effective way to die! I suspect he or she will be somewhere in the neighborhood of 45-ish.

Go on and celebrate your birthdays, but don't COUNT those candles before you blow them out! Be judicious and modest or else they could wind up as simply Candles in the Wind. In this case, less is truly more.

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