The humungulous carton my treadmill was delivered in today is probably something I should keep, in case I ever need a place to live. Iíd hate to lose my house in the country, but I think I could set this box under the freeway overpass and have room for the occasional visitor. I know Iíll fit, because I had to crawl halfway inside it as I was getting all the parts and pieces out.
However, thatís all my treadmill is at the moment: parts and pieces. Iíve shown a photo of the upright case to anyone who would look, silently (or not so silently) pleading for a little help (which, I believe, is forthcoming, whether I deserve it or not). We had a combined family birthday (for Eric and me) tonight at John and Suzanneís, and I feel confident Iíll get some kind of assistance long before Iím actually ready to step on the treadmill.
As for the birthday dinner, it was great fun. Aiden insisted on singing the ďyou look like a monkeyĒ version of the happy birthday song to both of us (he thinks heís funny, and heís right), and we each blew out some candles. Not as many candles as our years, which if you combine our ages would require 91 candles and a fire permit, and way more breath than I, for one, could possibly muster after downing three tacos and a flagon of rosť wine. (Or was it four tacos and a carafe?)