What's That Number Again?

Just a quick post this morning.  Got to get out and plant some flowers before it starts raining again.

I had one of those moments this morning.  It's my beloved spouse's birthday so I got up early to make him a special breakfast.  Now, I know how old he is today.  And I know there's a four year difference between his age and mine.  But this morning the numbers didn't work.  Somehow we were five years apart.  It seems when I had my birthday earlier this month, I'd managed not to click the magic clicker in my head.  The birthday had come and gone but my age had stayed the same.  What a shock this morning to realize I was a year older.

Do you ever forget how old you are?  For just a second?  You start to say, "Oh, she's about my age," and realize you haven't been that age for a long time.  You see an unexpected reflection of yourself and wonder who that old woman is.  Is the age you are on the inside getting further and futher from the stupid number on your driver's license?
 
I don't care.  I've had a coffee mug for years (given to me by my co-workers) that reads: "I may be getting older but I refuse to grow up."  Works for me.  How about you?

Off to my planting.

Happy Birthday, honey.

I'm Currently Enjoying: Suspense and Sensibility by Carrie Bebris

Groaner of the Day: This woman ordered an exotic snake through a mail order operation. When the package arrived, there were only feathery necklaces in the box.

Apparently, the boa cons tricked her.

A Birthday Present

It was a lousy way to spend his birthday.  Working all day then spending his evening in school.  Of course, there were a lot of guys in the same boat back then.  They had left to fight as soon as they turned 18 and now that the war was over, they were married with kids, trying to get through college the hard way. 

He got off the bus around 10:30, expecting to walk the several blocks to his in-laws where they were staying so her parents could help his very pregnant wife take care of their two year old son.  Then he saw the car waiting at the corner.  Hey, the day might not be a total loss after all.  They had come to meet him.  Probably going to take him out for an ice cream or something.  Not wanting to admit how pleased he was at the prospect, he assumed a Joe Cool saunter and strolled on over.

"Hi.  What are you doing here?"

"Get in the damn car, " his father-in-law barked.  "She having the baby!"

They reached the hospital in record time, popped his wife into a waiting wheelchair and hurried into the lobby.  A nurse armed with a clipboard stopped them.

"She having the baby," the frantic husband announced.

"Just a few questions," the nurse insisted.

The figure in the wheelchair looked up and said quietly, "Oh, I don't think we have time for that."

There must have been something in that soft voice, or perhaps in the young woman's eyes, but the nurse handed the clipboard to the young dad.  "You start on these.  We're going upstairs."

Fifteen minutes later, his daughter was born. 

For years two running family jokes would be the daughter complaining that every birthday cake she ever had bore two names and the father compaing that she was the most expensive gift he ever received - one he'd been paying for ever since. 

Happy Birthday, Dad.

I'm currently enjoying: Apocalypse Rising by Maria Zannini

Groaner of the Day: Most people don't know that back in 1912, Hellmann's mayonnaise was manufactured in England. In fact, the Titanic was carrying 12,000 jars of the condiment scheduled for delivery in Vera Cruz, Mexico, which was to be the next port of call for the great ship after its stop in New York. This would have been the largest single shipment of mayonnaise ever delivered to Mexico.

But as we know, the great ship did not make it to New York. The ship hit an iceberg and sank, and the cargo was forever lost. The people of Mexico, who were crazy about mayonnaise, and were eagerly awaiting its delivery, were disconsolate at the loss. Their anguish was so great, that they declared a National Day of Mourning, which they still observe to this day.

The National Day of Mourning occurs each year on May 5th and is known, of course, as Sinko De Mayo.

Happy Birthday to My First Born

I had a different post in mind for today, about linear programming and plotting a story.  But I'm waxing nolstalgic right now and I'm going to beg your indulgence.

Thirty nine years ago this morning I gave birth to a son. He was my first born and he was healthy and beautiful. He had wispy blond hair and big blue eyes. He’d been a breech birth so his head was not misshapen nor his face bruised. He was perfect.

As he got older, that whole perfect thing faded a bit.  I don't think it was a coincidence that my hair starting turning gray when he was a teenager. He never got in real trouble, but he certainly danced around the edges.  He pulled it together in college and was lucky enough to find a terrific young woman who was willing to put up with him.  (Okay, we sent her checks and begged her to take him.)
Together they produced two of my exceptional grandchildren.  

They live about an hour away, so I don't see him every day but he phones me often, just checking in or sharing something about the kids or maybe with a joke he's heard.  He always knows how to make me laugh.  (Come to think of it, that may be how he survived his teen years.)

I got to see him this weekend. Twice, in fact. At my granddaughter's play on Saturday and my grandson's lacrosse games on Sunday.  My son is the coach for the lacrosse team. He roamed the side lines, yelling instructions, no megaphone needed (it's a standing joke -my boy has great lungs).  And I watched him and thought about the man he has become.  A good man - successful in his career, devoted to his family, caring of his friends. Can I take credit?  Probably not.  But I remember that day, thirty nine years ago, and all the years that passed since then, and I look at him now.  And I'm really damn proud.

Happy Birthday, Greg.


My current word count: 31,131

I'm currently enjoying: Just finished Treachery in Death by JD Robb

Groaner of the day: When the driver of a huge trailer lost control of his rig, he plowed into an empty tollbooth and smashed it to pieces. He climbed down from the wreckage and within a matter of minutes, a truck pulled up and discharged a crew of workers. The men picked up each broken piece of the former tollbooth and spread some kind of creamy substance on it. Then they began fitting the pieces together. In less than a half hour, they had the entire tollbooth reconstructed and looking good as new.

Astonishing!" the truck driver said to the crew chief. "What was the white stuff you used to get all the pieces together?"

The crew chief said, "Oh, that was tollgate booth paste."