It started with a visit from a radioactive wombat from Norway, as these things do.
Fast-forward to my parents being visited by one such wombat (dressed like old Ben Kenobi) in the late spring in New Orleans 53 years ago. They were told what they must do and they did and I was born approximately 8 months later at 4 o’clock in the morning in Philadelphia just as the wombat said.
I’m still waiting for the wombat to show up again to give me similar instructions but until then I’ll wait, surviving only on pasta with alfredo sauce (with more fiber thrown in nowadays).
Technically I’m still 52 at the time of this writing. I have another 2 hours to go before I turn 53 but I probably won’t wait up.
Hopefully my next year gets more creativity out of me as the wombat originally dictated.
Good night everyone. 🙂
Matt "Quiddity" McGovern's Blog 