As I write this, it is my birthday. I have been on this planet for nigh on 34 years now and while that is no longer classified as middle age, you would think I would be old enough to know not to use Vanilla Ice lyrics in the headlines of my articles.

Which goes to show how much I have learned along the way.

I am a member of the population that probably cringes the most when we get those annual e-mails telling us that "today's high school student never experienced Jimmy Carter" or something like that. We're right at that age that just borders the cusp of that kind of statement. Suddenly, because we are old enough to remember Pac Man or Pong, we're labeled as sort-of-kind-of old.

Don't worry, this is not going to be some depressing launch into the morbidness of age. Wait a few more years for that, when I launch full-tilt into my mid-life crisis (I already have the color of car picked out).

But I do have one observation to make: this is the age I knew I would be in the year 2000. This was the age that as a skinny little Midwestern kid surrounded by Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia posters I thought would be unbelievably old.

Well, here I am, and I don't feel that old. I can still play a fair game of ultimate Frisbee (when my knees work), I still can turn the heads of beautiful women (who usually have this weird befuddled look), and I still go out on dates (when my wife and I can get a babysitter).

Wait a minute...

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