Three Score and Two Years Ago

Nothing like another birthday to get a person all maudlin and introspective. Year sixty-one wasn’t too bad. The world only outright tried to kill me once with that heart attack last August, although the broken ankle in March might have been another half-hearted attempt by the fates. Calculating all the near misses in my life that reasonably could have ended up in terminal tragedy, I figure that (were I feline) I’d probably have about three lives to go. Four, if the ankle doesn’t count, and it probably shouldn’t.

The Prof got me a pair of top-notch headphones while we were in California for an early birthday present, which set the bar pretty high for anyone else who was thinking about maybe gifting me anything. As of now, he remains the undisputed Champ of Birthday Gifts. Sister the Elder did go to my Amazon wish list, but she didn’t read the note I put next to the link and randomly ordered something else on the page that I’d saved. Sister the Younger gave me a Tea of the Month membership along with a bright red tea kettle with a whistle that you can’t take off or otherwise prevent from going off. Haven’t decided what I’m getting myself yet.

The Prof is also taking me out to a real restaurant tonight. That’s a big concession on his part, since he really doesn’t like going to eat anywhere that you can’t walk the check up to the till yourself. I’m not supposed to drink alcohol any more, but I may grant myself a one glass exemption tonight.

Spent most of the day navel gazing, but now that I’m typing I can’t find a reasonable way to write any of my thoughts down that doesn’t come out all wrong. It irks me when words fail that totally.