While he and the Bat have been out romping in the woods together, Pop put another mile on his canoe's odometer. I think that puts him at three-quarters of a century. I keep hearing from everybody how young my parents look -- Pop hasn't figured out how to slouch, yet, and the waistbands to his pants have not started the old-geezer upward creep, so people are always surprised to discover that he has a whiny old cat lady for a daughter.
If you stumble across my parents out there in the woods of southeastern Kentucky (and you don't have to avert your eyes) wish Pop a happy birthday, and tell him I told you to remind him to act his age. Heh heh heh.
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