I received an email from an internet friend a couple of days ago. We met on a now defunct social site and started writing back and forth for a few years. She was in her twenties, a teacher and a coach. A lot of stories went back and forth about our love lives, sex lives and general information.

Eventually the letters became fewer and fewer, trickling down to once a year. I'm amazed that we even kept in touch for so many years. Internet friendships have a history of fading away to nothing.

So to hear from her now was a real treat.

It was a long email. She told me about her daughter, who is three and her relationship with her child's father. Her professional and private life was updated as well. And she sent me some pictures!

To this day I don't know her last name or the town where she lives. I'm quite sure we'll never meet, but that doesn't matter. We remain friends, and that's all that does matter.

In a world of faceless strangers, I find comfort in knowing that someone out there in the ethereal cares.

~

I am a man of 67 years. Other than the pictures on my profile page, I don't post anything new. Why should I? Other than gaining 5 pounds, my body hasn't changed in a few years. Besides, we're not here to look at an old man, are we? I thought not.

Yes, I stroke a lot of women's egos in my comments. I'm not just here to stroke myself.

Rarely do I ever get a thank you for my efforts, but that's o.k. My ego doesn't need reassurance that I'm doing my job.

Just the delight of seeing so many beautiful women on a daily basis is payment enough.

Yes, it helps my fantasy life. Being able to still enjoy that is important at my age. I hear a lot of complaints from fellow codgers to the contrary.

As the old saying goes: Keep 'em coming and I'll keep cuming, too.

It's 57 degrees on February the second. The groundhog didn't see his shadow today, so that's supposed to mean an early spring.

The weather for the week ahead cites another day of 50's weather, then a return to the 30's by mid week.

Whatever. I'm outta here for a while!

~

I have been follicly challenged for many years now.

I've heard all the bald jokes and they don't bother me.

I don't try to hide my baldness with a hat. When I wear a hat, it's because it's sunny, it's raining or to keep my head warm in the winter (over 70% of the body's heat exits the body through the top of your head).

I think comb overs are stupid. I don't try to hide anything... take me as I am. A lot of women have.

If I wanted to make a lot of money off of my baldness, I'd tell people I just trimmed my hair and charge people to guess which one.

Realize this:

The Beatles had released 11 albums (all # 1), achieved world wide fame and left a legacy unmatched by any other band.

All of these things before they were 30.

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... is not just blowin' in the wind.

The old tongue twister goes:

"How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"

After watching several different Geico Insurance t.v. commercials the last few days,

I'd say the answer would be "A LOT!"

As paranoid as people are about the Coronavirus, if you swallow something and it goes down the wrong 'pipe' (as the old saying goes), repeated and prolonged coughing will make people avoid you like, well, the plague.

It happened to me today when I swallowed a drink of coffee wrong this morning.

... hopefully the last.

Kobe Bryant dead at age 41.

Walter Payton died at age 45.

Roberto Clemente at age 38.

Just to name a few.

All great players who did as much away from sports as they did in their respective sports.

Sadly, the beat goes on.

I got nothing.

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It's been cold enough the last few days that people are wearing two sets of pajamas to Walmart.

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