I almost finished my latest project over the weekend. I am putting up a covered porch on my land in Virginia.

It hasn't been an easy task for me, but it really hasn't been any more difficult than other such projects. I felt like I needed to come back to work Monday so I could get some rest.

I guess I am a slave-driver of sorts. The ‘of sorts' part would be due to the fact that I mainly drive myself. I don't have the heart or affluence to drive others.

The porch still needs a top rail, but I am undecided as to whether a flower box or a big flat rail would be best. It would be nice to have a place to sit things, but it would also be nice to see flowers around the porch in the summer time.

I kind of thought this weekend might be a little different, since my birthday was Friday. In a way, it was. Everyone in the family bought me new shirts. I think I ended up with 11 summer shirts, counting T shirts. I subsequently went through my closet and discarded those shirts with ironing marks, bleach stains, unidentifiable markings and holes. After recounting my ‘good shirts,' I realized that I now own 11 summer shirts that I can wear on a regular basis and another 20 ‘work shirts.'

I was very thankful for all of my gifts. I also got a picture frame with a trout on a chain hanging off one side, a nice wooden bow and some other items. I am looking forward to using the bow in the near future. As for the picture frame, I don't really have a great fish picture to put inside of it, since I can't figure out how to fish and take pictures of myself simultaneously. However, the black and white line drawing that was already in the frame looks pretty good. I might as well leave it in place. I go through a lot of shirts. Mainly because, when it comes to clothes, I usually seem to be wearing the wrong things at the wrong time. Why is it that things always happen when you are wearing your ‘nice' clothes?

When ever I need to do that involves filth and grime, like make emergency repairs on a vehicle, I can be assured that I will be dressed in a necktie. However, if I need to be ready for church or a meeting, I always seem to be wearing old clothes and a baseball hat. It's been this way all my life.

I guess that is why children get such a hard time from their parents. They probably do some better than I, since they have mothers to tell them what to do. Once you grow up, you're on your own. I take that back.

My mother still tells me what to do whenever the opportunity arises. I don't admit it, but she's usually right.

Speaking of whom, Friday evening I went to visit with my parents, who had prepared a meal for me. Well, they left a steak in the refrigerator. After that, I went to my place in the woods and tried to spend a relaxing birthday with a few friends. A very few. OK, there were four people there. I tried to play my guitar a little, but I find that I am a bit out of practice. Perhaps I should try to get back in shape in time for the fiddler's convention. I don't want a band of lonely feline and canine minstrels following me around and singing in unison with my discordant melodies.

With that well noted and documented in the annals of American history, I must say that I feel it is hardly worthwhile to mention that I am older now. I hardly noticed the extra lines around my eyes and the ever-growing bags beneath my eyes. The hair on my bald spot doesn't seem that much thinner than last year. Come to think of it, it isn't easy watching yourself age. Unless, of course, you just close your eyes.

That'll be coming soon enough. Besides, closing one's eyes can make brushing your teeth difficult and shaving almost dangerous.

Therefore, I guess you have to put on the rose-colored lenses and do the best you can. People guess me younger than I am all the time. In fact, a member of my own family asked me the other day, "Isn't your birthday on the sixteenth?" You see, that would make me at least two days younger than I really am. That certainly made me feel better about life, especially with me just having a birthday the day before.

Having said so, I must admit that I sometimes need to pull out some timeless adages to help me get by.

Things like, "Age is like cheese, the longer you keep it, the worse it stinks." Or, "if age were wine, I'd be priceless." And don't forget, "If you are lucky, you might live long enough to be as old as a flea on God's dog." Or was that if you're unlucky?

It was enough to make a body want to go home and stick their face in a cake — maybe a carrot cake with cream cheese icing.

Get more tongue in cheek commentary this week's issue of the Alleghany News!

Email: allnews@ls.net