On turning 30

I believe it was former Giants outfielder Chili Davis who said, "growing old is mandatory; growing up is not." Mark Twain may have put it better when he said, "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." But I prefer the ageless wisdom of Bob Hope, who said, "middle age is when your age starts to show around your middle." So by adopting that philosophy, I'm still in my 20s.

But who am I kidding? The 20s sucked. They were so ... you know ... 20s. At any rate, they're over. Ain't no going back. I woke up one day last month, and I was 30. I even took a picture to prove it.

My 30th just happened to fall on a Sunday, and not just any Sunday but the Sunday that the Cards went for a sweep of the Cubs. To celebrate the potential broomstick I headed to Mike & Molly's with my peeps. There, I met up with the MVP of the '82 World Series, Mr. Darrell Porter, and we enjoyed a cold one. (Left to right: Cold One, Porter, a kick-ass homemade B-day card.)

Later that night, I was given plenty of fabulous gifts. Gary Bennett hit a walk-off grand slam to secure the sweep of the Cubs, and my friends chipped in a stack of old baseball cards (including some Fleer!), several mix CDs, a gift card that turned into Willie Nelson's new book The Tao of Willie, a collection of Cardinals DVDs showcasing their World Series years from the '40s to the present (thanks M!), and the following stellar shirt from D&A (keeping me in the coolest threads as I enter my 30s).

Of course, no birthday at MnMs is complete without an Irish Car Bomb (or two). Bombs away!

I'm not sure that Amy -- who turned 30 just one month prior -- approves of all this drinking.

I leave you with this, a salute to beards and Hall-of-Famers with the baby blue Birds on the Bat. Bet you wish you got this for your b-day, huh?

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