It’s my birthday. Maybe that’s not the kind of thing one should point out about ones self? Too late. Facebook. Cat’s out of the bag.
On my way home tonight Stef called. It was three of midnight. She asked me to wait. While I did she conferenced in Helaine. This was a first. Stef has mastered a new skill.
At midnight they sang happy birthday in the silly, laughy way only a family can understand. I’m not saying family life is always silly and laughy, but a family has such deep understanding of each other it’s easy to know what will play!
Helaine baked. Banana cake with an amazing frosting. Wow.
I got cards from Stef and Helaine and a few friends. There were a couple of gifts including some photo equipment.
If the photo stuff had come with charged batteries I’d be talking to you later, not now.
The Facebook greetings have begun to flow in. By the end of the day hundreds of you will have wished me Happy Birthday and I will have read every one while looking at your teeny little profile picture.
I love your profile pictures. You look like the crowd I’d see at the DMV. It’s a place everyone has to come regardless of position or social status.
I like getting your birthday wishes. You are very kind.
Helaine asked I not mention my age. I won’t.
I will only say I walk the stairs as often as I can at work–at least once, sometimes twice a day from the basement to the third floor. Walking the stairs is like checking the oil in your car. Doing it will let you know when something goes wrong, but it won’t fix something that’s already broken.
Last year was tumultuous. It ended like a fairytale where the protagonist rides off into the sunset his head held high. I like a fairytale ending.
It was the middle that sucked.
I would like a better year next year, please.