I am not one to stay up New Year’s Eve to watch some celebrity drop the ball at Times Square at midnight. All year long I have to put up with people dropping the ball so I’m not going to make a special effort to watch somebody drop another ball.

As for the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and myself we stayed home New Year’s Eve and enjoyed our own society. It’s always good to have nothing to do and knowing that nobody will stop by and nobody’s going to call us on the phone. A night with the cell phones quiet is like a night in the forest. Everybody is out celebrating the end of the old year.

I think everybody has the right to celebrate in his or her own way.

A friend of mine has a saying, "I'm going to get as old as I possibly can get." From what I can tell, he has. I must agree with his sentiment. Of course, the alternative is… well you know. Another friend of mine likes to tell me, "Brother, you're only as old as you feel." I am not sure how old feels or if wrinkles are involved. But, I am feeling quite fine, thank you.

Just the other day the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage came in from her workshop, sat down on the couch and said, "Whew, I feel like a hundred."

At the time, I did not know if she was talking about dollars, pounds or years. Being the old fogey that I am, I know there are times when silence is golden and this was one of those golden moments. But, what does a hundred feel like? Is there some special sensation that pulsates through the body when a person reaches that age level? Or, is it the absence of anything pulsating through your body?

Am I getting old or his time passing faster than it used to? It seems I just settle down to do something and before I know it, it is over.

Back in “the day,” a minute had 60 seconds. An hour had 60 minutes. A day had 24 hours. Oh, for those good old days.

I am not exactly sure how many seconds a minute has or how many minutes an hour has because he goes by so fast I cannot keep track. Technology has taken over and I for one object.

For example, I like looking at my wristwatch and seeing the second hand slowly tick around the dial. Now, we have cell phones with a digital clock. Unlike these digital clocks, all they tell me is what time it is right now. I like to look at a wristwatch and get a whole view of time: past, present and future.

I know that a week does not have seven days anymore.

I remember my grandfather telling me that the older you get the faster time flies. Laughing at him at the time I thought it was another of his little stories he loved telling.

Just the other day I caught myself telling one of my grandchildren, “The older you get the faster time flies.” Then it occurred to me. I am my grandfather. I am not sure how I got here, but here I am.

It is hard keeping up with things, especially when time ticks by so fast. Just when you think you are all caught up, you realize you have to start it all over again.

I was complaining about this the other day to the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. Normally, I try not to do any complaining in her presence. She has the ability of turning my complaint upside down and confusing me to the extent that I have no idea what I am complaining about.

In my complaint I said, “Where does time go?”