Despite the age spots on my skin and the dark circles under my eyes (well-earned, I assure you), I still feel closer to fifty than I do to seventy, even though I’m exactly halfway in between. Of course, I know what it’s like to be fifty. I can only hope to find out what seventy holds in store. Maybe the new diet will help me get there intact and conscious.
Having already been fęted by the family on Sunday, I didn’t expect much out of my actual birthday today. I did hold out some hope that I could sleep a little later than usual, but the yard guys showed up at eight o’clock this morning and worked on the last section of grass that they couldn’t do yesterday when it started pouring. I took pressure off myself early by deciding not to try to do the grocery shopping again. My list is now two pages long, with one page all produce. I’ll get to the store tomorrow. This time I mean it.
But it wasn’t a total washout, for a birthday. I talked to a lot of people, including my cousin Sherry from Iowa, who spent an hour of her own phone time cheering me out of my self-induced funk. Eric also dropped by with a card that cracked me up. He and I share a twisted sense of humor and a number of common cultural references, so we know how to make each other laugh. Smile, at least.