"How old am I?"

Heather is gonna kill me for telling this to you all, but I can't resist.

So, for the Rumble, I've been compiling statistics on all our entrants, including number, where they're from, and so forth. Just for fun, and to regale the room with many amusing bon mots about the eclectic group we've got playing in this year's event. It occurs to me that Heather's mother is probably the oldest creator that we've got in the Rumble, but I don't have the slightest idea how old she actually is.

So, I go to my primary source of all Shannon Info, and call Heather. I ask how old Diane is. She pauses for a long second, then asks, "How old am I?"

It takes me a second to digest this question. I wasn't sure if she was asking rhetorically, or if she was...well...really asking. So, I tell her. (This age, I knew - she's my best friend, after all - and no, I won't go blabbing Heather's age all over the net. I'll be in deep enough $#!+ for telling you guys the rest of this story as it is.)

"Well, just take my age and add 20 years. That's how old Mom is." Okey-doke. But, um...I was still wondering. Did Heather really have to ask me her own age?

The next sentence answered that question quite directly. "Honey, when you've lied about your age as much as I have, even you lose track after a while."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, in an anecdotal, slice-of-life fashion, should tell you quite a bit about Heather Shannon. Wonderful friend. Amazing person. Age fibber. :)

(If you don't hear from me for a few days, this time it won't be because I'm slacking off. It will be because I'm in the hospital.)