I'm 57 today and don't feel a day over 37. I'm just thrilled to be here.
Yeah, I admit I work at it. I play hockey three times a week, work out at the gym twice a week, throw in an occasional golf-ball whacking and saunter around the neighborhood whenever the mood strikes.
Fried is not in my vocabulary (except for the more politically correct "sauteed") and red wine is the mother's milk of conversation with good friends around a dinner table.
There are others who have followed a similar regimen who are no longer living on this planet. Accidents, disease, bad luck and other maladies can tear down and waste even the most healthy person.
So enjoying the occasional double latte, fat Dominican cigar, Roquefort cheeseburger, or coconut cream pie should be considered a celebration of living even by the most fastidious fitness freak.
Excuse me now , please, while enjoy my birthday cake!